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“Can I make it go higher?” She twists toward Bane, keeping hold of the reel. “Daddy!”

He approaches with Sprout’s leash wrapped securely around his wrist. “Give it a little more line, then hold it there.”

Babs loosens the reel, and the dragon rises above the other kites while Biddy circles us with her butterfly still pulling against the string.

“Emma, look at mine.”

I turn toward her, keeping one hand near Babs. “I’m watching.”

Biddy beams and runs past again, her cheeks pink. The kite follows her across the lawn.

We spend the next hour keeping both kites above the trees. Sprout tries to chase their shadows across the grass.

Bane untangles the strings when the girls cross paths, repairs one of the dragon’s tail ribbons after it catches beneath Babs’s shoe, and prevents Sprout from biting the butterfly whenever it dips within reach.

Mara remains near the bench, guarding the bags and offering advice without leaving her coffee.

When Babs’s line winds around mine, Biddy directs us from several feet away. I walk in a circle beneath the crossed strings.

“You have to go under it,” she says.

“The line is above my head.”

Biddy considers the distance. “You could jump.”

Before I test that suggestion, Bane catches the reel and steps behind me.

His chest presses against my back. He reaches around my waist, lifting one line over the other without releasing the leash looped across his wrist.

“Keep the reel in front of you,” he says near my ear.

“I am keeping it in front of me.”

“You’re pulling it toward the left.”

“That’s because you’re making concentration difficult.”

His hand settles over mine as he corrects the angle. “Am I?”

The question brushes across my skin as I turn my head and find his face close to mine. His gaze drops toward my mouth, and the warmth of his breath touches my cheek beneath the distant sounds of the park around us.

Sprout jerks the leash before either of us moves closer.

Bane stumbles into my back, my grip loosens, and the reel spins as the dragon line races through it.

“Daddy!” Babs shouts from across the grass.

Bane catches the handle before it hits the ground and locks the reel. Mara laughs from the bench.

I step away, tucking my hair behind my ear as Bane looks down at Sprout. “Your timing continues to be appalling.”

Sprout sits beside him with his tongue hanging from the side of his mouth.

By the time the wind weakens, both girls have grass stains across their knees, the dragon’s tail has collected several leaves, and Sprout has stolen a glove from a toddler sitting near the benches.

Bane retrieves it from beneath a picnic table, apologizing to the child’s father, and I sit beside Mara on the blanket as she packs the empty Thermos into one of the bags.

“You’re enjoying watching him crawl under there,” I say.