“Yup. We’re going back to London tomorrow morning, probably for a good stretch of time. Row is opening a new restaurant in Edinburgh. He’d like me and Serafina close by.” Serafina was my niece. She’d just turned two and had her mom’s huge blue eyes, her dad’s wild onyx curls, and the neighboring opera singer’s lungs. The girl could scream her way to a catastrophic earthquake. “Dylan…” Cal hesitated. “I have an idea.”
