"Mommy, who's coming to dinner?"
Brielle was sitting at the kitchen table, coloring while Estelle prepared the evening meal. The house smelled like rosemary and garlic, warmth and care.
Mira sat down beside her daughter. "Grandma, Grandpa, Uncle Ronan, Aunt Violet, Freya, and me. And one more person."
Brielle didn't look up from her coloring. "Daddy?"
"No, baby. Not Daddy."
The crayon stopped moving. "Why not?"
Mira chose her words carefully. "Because you said you didn't want Daddy at dinner. Remember? After the school program?"
Brielle's face crumpled slightly. "I was mad."
"I know. But sometimes when we're mad, we still mean what we say." Mira touched her daughter's hand. "You can change your mind later. But for today, Daddy's not coming."
"Who's the other pe
