I was brushing out the last bit of tangles in my hair when I heard it—the unmistakable edge in Ramona’s voice. 

“Are you serious right now?” she snapped, her voice rising from down the hall. “You’re really standing on what you said? You’re not coming to dinner with me?” 

I froze, my brush mid-air, eyes darting toward the door. 

From the corner where she sat cross-legged on the bed, Sloane looked up too. “Is that...?” 

I nodded slowly. “Ramona.” 

Sloane’s ...