Isabella’s POV

By the time I hear the familiar sound of Cole’s car pulling into the driveway, I am already emotionally prepared to cry, scream, laugh, and possibly fake my own death. Not because I am unhappy. Because I am exhausted on a level that transcends physical reality.

Peter and I are sitting on opposite ends of the couch like survivors of a natural disaster. The house looks like it has been hit by a small, very loud tornado. There is a stuffed giraffe hanging from the lampshade. ...