“Look.” Lillian returned with an ice pack and placed it on Morgan’s elevated ankle. “I know you’re being very noble about the whole situation, but there’s clearly something going on between you two.”

“Can we focus on my ankle?”

“No,” Angie said before Lillian could answer. “Because I don’t understand the problem.”

“The problem is that Morgan thinks Emilia is fragile,” said Lillian.

“That’s not her call,” Angie said.

“Nope. It also isn’t the reason she’s scared.”

“Right here, guys,” said Morgan.

“Kate?” asked Angie.

“Kate.”

Morgan tried to stand as she had zero interest in hanging around for the rest of this conversation, but Lillian shoved her back down. “Stay off the ankle.”

“Then can we not talk about this?”

“Hell, if you’re not into her, I could be,” said Angie.

“She’s not your type.” Morgan couldn’t help bristling.

“I could make an exception.”

“What’s going on with Lana, anyway? I thought you were done with her.”

“I am.”

“Then why was she over the other night?”

“Because I wanted to get laid on my birthday.” Angie folded herself into the corner of the couch. “Is there a problem with that?”

“She’s not good for you.”

Angie’s hazel eyes were unreadable. “Also not your call.”

“Children,” Lillian said warningly.

“I just don’t get it. You’re kind, beautiful, funny, and smart. You deserve someone who appreciates that, not someone who . . .” She gestured vaguely, unwilling to put into words what women like Lana did to Angie.

“If that’s what I wanted, I’d date you, Donovan.” Angie stood abruptly, clutching a spitting James to her chest, and stalked out of the room.

Lillian sighed.

“What? Everyone gets a say in my private life, but I can’t say anything about hers?” said Morgan.

“You’re . . .” Lillian paused. “You and Ange are different.”

“Lana is a dick.”

“Lana isn’t the problem, Morgan.”

Lillian’s quiet words deflated her anger. “I should go apologize.”

“Later. Stay off that foot. I’ll talk to her and make sure she’s okay.”