Isla POV
Carmilla arrived at nine on Saturday morning with two large bags, a coffee in each hand, and the energy of someone who had been awake for hours and was genuinely excited about it.
I opened the door in my pyjamas.
She looked me up and down. "Good. You're not dressed. That saves time."
She walked past me into the apartment like she had been here before.
She went straight to my wardrobe.
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I stood in the doorway of my bedroom watching her pull things out with the focused efficiency of someone who knew exactly what she was looking for and exactly what she was not.
"This." She held up a beige blouse. "No."
She dropped it on the bed.
"This." A grey cardigan. "Absolutely not."
Another drop.
"Isla." She turned to face me, arms full of muted coloured, safe clothing. "Do you o
