Isabella’s POV

I paced back and forth just inside the entrance of our home, a part of me regretting giving in so easily when Ethan had insisted I remain home.

Waiting was torture.

The lights of dawn were threatening to crest. Meaning more than twelve hours had passed since Ethan had left.

I had tried distracting myself for the first few hours. In my perfume lab, one hour, reading in the sunroom, within the ...