DAVA was the one to crack first, her irritation simmering over. "Quit with the death stare, Skye, would you? It's just making this soooo uncomfortable."

Skye, slumped against the gleaming white stone countertop of the giant kitchen, didn't even flicker an eyelash. "I'm not staring. I'm paying attention."

"Watching what? My flawless technique for constructing a sandwich?" Dava shot back, sarcasm dripping from her voice as she carefully placed lettuce on a slice of artisanal bread. "Or are you attempting to determine whether I've poisoned it?"

"I am observing the man who, these last two years, has existed in a ghostly manner while looking after our daughter," Skye replied, his...