I Married a Widower With Two Daughters — Then One of Them Led Me to the Basement and Asked if I Wanted to See Where Her Mother Lives

from the couch.

“You have a runny nose,” I said.

Emily sneezed into a blanket. “I’m also dying.”

“Very tragic,” I said. “Drink your juice.”

By noon they were playing hide-and-seek like tiny maniacs.

“No running,” I called.

They ran.

“No jumping off furniture.”

Grace yelled from upstairs, “That was Emily!”

Emily yelled back, “I’m continue reading …