Page 413 of Wicked Brutal

Piper runs into the middle of them. “Privet!”

Katya immediately crouches. “Privet, moya malen’kaya babochka.”

Piper throws her arms around her, then spots the food. “Pozhaluysta.”

“You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

“Pozhaluysta.” Katya laughs and gives her one. Piper takes a bite. “Spasibo.” Then — “Merci.”

Tobias groans. “She does that.”

“I know both,” Piper announces.

Becca crouches beside her and says something slowly in Russian. Piper catches enough to answer. Wrong. Tobias corrects her. She tries again, and Becca smiles. Then Bella calls something to Tobias in French from across the yard, and he answers immediately, and Iz cuts in, and Bella fires back, and Becca joins, and now all four of them are talking in French — fast, overlapping, Tobias gesturing like he’s forty instead of ten.

I look at Ally. “Do you understand any of that?”

“Not a fucking word.”

Piper appears beside her. “Dollar.”

Ally sighs and pays. Tobias yells from across the yard. “FIFTY!”

“You weren’t even part of the conversation!”

“I heard it!”

“This is bullshit!”

“ONE HUNDRED!”

Ally stares at him. Becca doubles over laughing.

I fucking love this family.

Everywhere I look, somebody is doing something that would’ve sounded insane four years ago. Thomas O’Farrell is the governor of Massachusetts, and right now he’s somewhere in the yard letting my four-year-old fine him a dollar. Dad laughs from the grill, Callum beside him, Gideon and Clifford too. Theodore brings another tray from Katya. Saoirse and Mom are sitting with Ally now, discussing something for the nonprofit between interruptions. Alice has a sketchbook open on her lap, and Piper is leaning over it, pointing at one of the frogs.

She does all of Ally’s children’s-book artwork now. Every frog. Every ridiculous little creature. Every world Ally creates for kids who need stories about being scared and brave at the same time.

Then Louise walks past carrying another dress, and I stare at her. “Why do you have a backup?”

She looks offended. “Have you met your daughter?”

Piper Jane — the label — started because Louise wouldn’t stop making Piper clothes. Now there are kids I’ve never met walking around in things with my daughter’s name stitched into them. Piper doesn’t understand that. To her, Aunt Louise makes clothes. That’s it.

Delilah catches Piper before she crashes into her. “Whoa.”

Piper grabs her hands. “Did you bring art?”

“I work at the MFA. I don’t steal the art and bring it to birthday parties.”

“Why?”

Delilah pauses. “Because prison?”

Piper thinks about that. “Okay.”

“Excellent talk.”