Becca
I opened my front door and started talking before Isla had a chance to say a word. “I know, it’s a lot for me. Is it too much? Am I going way overboard with this? Just tell me. Don’t worry about hurting my feelings.”
Isla stood on my porch, dressed in a logo sweatshirt from the bakery and a pair of running tights. She had a weekly long run with a marathon training group, and they met near my house at Lake Merritt. It wasn’t unusual for her to stop by afterward if she knew I had the day off, but this time, I made a point of asking her to stop by because I needed a second opinion on my outfit. Isla had the benefit of being a little less fashion-savvy than Cherry, so I knew she’d be honest without worrying about upsetting the fashion gods.
“You look amazing.” Her eyes roamed over me
