Bianca lets herself in, a bag hanging from each hand. “Okay, I’ve got two subs, one ham, one turkey, both split right down the middle and every candy the mini mart had to offer.” “Any chance you brought a bottle of, god, anything?” “Shut up, are you done breastfeeding?!” She practically beams. I laugh, but my shoulders fall, and my intuitive best friend drops the bags where she stands, hopping up onto the bed in the next second.