"She makes me smile."
I was as surprised by Mike's deep, reflective voice as I was by the actual words. The dish of cookies in my hand shook a little as I froze in mid-step. He was humming as he filled his paper with a rainbow of colors while he leaned against the kitchen doorway and stared toward the living room where Mia was lying on the floor with her crayons.
"What?" I pretended not to know, but my chest constricted with anxiety.
"Mia," he replied, his eyes narrowing a little as though he were seeing her from afar. "She smiles exactly like I did when I was a child."
I put the plate down on the counter and mustered a laugh. "Every child smiles like that, Mike. broad and careless. That is what makes them children.
His focus remained on Mia, so he took a while to reply. After a time,
