93
Rosa’s POV
The guest room smelled like lavender, a scent I recognized as distinctly Emilia’s. Her love for all things calming and soft hadn’t changed. I sat cross-legged on her bed, my suitcase tucked neatly in the corner. Emilia shuffled around the room, fussing with pillows and blankets like she thought I’d complain about the arrangements.
“You don’t have to try so hard,” I teased, a smirk playing on my lips.
She glanced over her shoulder, her expression caught between a laugh and a frown. “I’m not trying hard. I’m just making sure you’re comfortable.”
“Emmy,” I said, using the nickname I’d called her since we were kids, “you could stick me on a couch and call it a night. I’d survive.”
She rolled her eyes but finally stopped adjusting the already-fluffed pillows. “Fine. But don
