Damian went still, and glanced toward the doorway, where Mabel was standing, listening.

“Because I love being with you, Lily,” he said.

“And with my mommy?” Lily asked, with the devastating directness of a three-year-old.

Mabel very nearly dropped the glass of iced tea in her hand.

Damian smiled.

“Especially,” he said, “with your mommy.”