Diana's POV
The weekend brought no respite from work, only a different kind. I stood in the backyard, sleeves rolled up to my elbows, hands deep in soapy water as I scrubbed at a stubborn stain on one of Damian's shirts. The sun beat down mercilessly, making sweat trickle down my back.
"Damian, are you sorting those clothes like I asked?" I called over my shoulder, not bothering to look back.
A delighted giggle was my only answer, followed by the sound of splashing. I sighed, knowing exactly what I'd find when I turned around.
Sure enough, Damian had abandoned the pile of clothes I'd asked him to sort by color. Instead, he was playing with the bubbles from the wash basin, blowing them into the air and chasing them across the yard.
"Damian," I said, my voice sharper than I intended. "I
