“Skylar, I haven’t made proper introductions yet. This pint-sized barrel of attitude and oversharing is my daughter, Emmeline, but she’ll shank you if you don’t call her Emmy—” “I would never shank Skylar Stone,” she mumbles as I forge ahead. “And that boy lying on the grass in a pile of embarrassment is my son, Oliver. Or Ollie. Call him what you want—he won’t shank you.”
