Sophia dropped the bags with a dramatic thud in the middle of the living room and kicked off her heels like she was home.
“Liam mentioned he dropped you off at home,” she added, tossing her hair as she made a beeline for the couch.
I blinked at her, barefoot, still very much unprepared for the storm of her energy taking over my apartment. “When did you even get back?”
“This morning,” she replied, pulling the band from her hair as she made herself comfortable on my couch. “Didn’t even unpack. Dropped my suitcase at the house and headed straight here.”
I raised a brow. “Seriously?”
“Obviously,” she said, already rummaging through one of the shopping bags like it owed her secrets. A moment later, she pulled out a glossy white pastry box and opened it like it was sacred. “Liam’s marinatin
