"My first-grade teacher taking me aside asking if Renée hits me? Yes. I was just barely six, I don't think I would even have understood why she was asking."

He chuckles and shakes his head.

"What?"

"Nothing. I have a weird sense of humour."

"Very weird, apparently."

"Yep."

The door opens and in walks Andi. "I haaaaaate history, I studied presidents for like all afternoon with Meg and I still turn half their names into Spoonerisms. Hi, Trouble."

"Hi, Andi!" he says, waving.

"Why do we have to have so many presidents, couldn't they have longer terms or something to be gentler on poor innocent high schoolers?" She flops onto the sofa next to Bella. "Whatcha talking about?"

"The time Mrs. Cornell was suspicious of my bruising patterns, oddly enough."

"Yeah, that was weird, Mrs. Cornell knows Mom."

"You okay, Trouble?"

He grins. "Who, me? Peachy."

"Also he made us a cake for after Chinese food," says Bella.

"I did!" he beams. "It's going to be awesome."

"Ooooh, what kinda cake?"

"Lemon. With buttercream frosting."

"Ooooooooh."

"So don't fill up on all of the dumplings and leave none for me, this time, or you won't have room for cake."

Trouble giggles.

Soon enough, Renée comes home, carrying bags of Chinese takeout containers. "Hello, girls! Hello, Trouble - ooh, a cake, did you bring us dessert again? I hope Bella isn't extorting you or anything."

He laughs. "Why, does she do that a lot?"

"No! Mom!"

"How else am I supposed to explain all the sugary presents?"