*Isla*

Poppy clutches the back of the couch, her freshly manicured fingernails gleaming in the light of the antique chandelier hanging over our heads. I wait to say anything until I hear Ben and Maddox’s footsteps recede down the hallway and out of earshot. Then, I turn to her, sighing as I meet her eyes and ask, “Is this what you want?”

“Yes,” she replies with finality, giving me a soft smile. “I love him, Isla. He loves me. And based on what happened today–” she ...