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Arlene turns her face away, shoulders shaking.

“What word?” he asks cautiously.

Darlene opens her mouth.

“Don't,” Arlene and I say together.

Rylan looks at us.

Darlene looks disappointed. “But I was going to show him.”

“I think he remembers it,” I say.

Rylan rubs a hand over his face. “Selena...”

“Where did she hear it?”

He glances at Arlene, who folds her arms and waits.

“I may have said something downstairs.”

“Something?” I repeat.

“A word.”

Darlene nods eagerly. “The fuck word.”

Arlene loses the battle and starts laughing. I press my lips together, but the sight of Rylan standing there looking as though he would rather face an entire rogue army than explain himself to a four year old nearly breaks me.

“Darlene,” Arlene says, recovering enough to speak, “remember what we just talked about? We don't use that word.”

“Okay, Mommy.”

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

Darlene looks up at Rylan. “You shouldn't use it either.”

He nods solemnly. “You're right.”

“Mommy says it's bad.”

“Your mommy is right.”

She seems satisfied with that, but only for a moment. Then her expression turns thoughtful.

“But what does it mean?”

Rylan opens his mouth, closes it, and looks at me.

I smile sweetly. “Yes, Uncle Rylan. What does it mean?”

Arlene starts laughing again.

Rylan gives me a look of pure betrayal. “Selena.”

“What? She asked you.”

Darlene tugs on his hand. “What does it mean?”