"You promised you'd never leave me," I said, tugging his sleeve until fabric bunched under my small fingers. He looked down and smiled the way he only ever smiled at me—slow, private, like a secret being handed over. "I did," Wyatt said, ruffling my hair. "I promised." "Then marry me when I'm big," I said, dead serious. Everybody laughed, which was the point. Laughter turned me small and safe. "Marry you?" Wyatt repeated, mock offense in his voice. "Can you even cook?" "I'll learn," I said. "Okay," he said. "I'll marry you if you can make a better omelet than Grace." Grace Zhang scoffed and pretended to be offended as she carried a tray. "Little miss has a head full of ideas," she said. Her voice was as ordinary as the clink of china. She set down tea for Wyatt and me and watched with that soft look housekeepers reserve for children who belong to the family and children who are not. "She already makes better noise," the butler said, and someone else took up the joke. Wyatt tucked me under his arm the way men tuck newspapers under their elbow, a private confirmation. "Deal," he said. "I'll marry you." No one said adoption. No one said family papers or signatures. No one needed to. I knew, the way I knew the light switch by the couch. I knew because Grace always stacked my favorite blanket on the guest bed. I knew because Mrs