Jo appears, the perfect distraction, climbing up in my lap to give me a hug. She’s tiny in my arms and smells like cupcakes. Probably because she’s still got a little icing in her hair. “Happy birthday, Uncle James,” she says through a yawn, and I catch Winnie watching us with an expression I can’t quite read. I look away, feeling more exposed than I have all night, which is saying something. “Thank you, little one,” I say, just as Tank scoops Jo from my arms.
