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You’ve got my number.”

I hiked my thumb in the direction of Erin’s departure. I fell against the side of the bed and into Helen’s awaiting arms—she still lay on her stomach at the edge of the bed. “Sounds like quite the night.”

“Hope you’ll take pity and go easy on me this morning,” I said. Helen didn’t reply; she couldn’t. Tara turned to look at me, her eyes positively green with envy, and I had the feeling she was devising workouts that would border on defying the Geneva Conventions. She had yet to earn privacy. “Wait… where are you going?”

“I’m gonna get Camille started on breakfast, then wake Helen and the kitten up.”

“Wake them up, how?” I asked, but her bright eyes twinkled in mischief, and I already knew the answer to that question. I watched as she reached down and placed her free hand under Erin’s fingers, encouraging the girl on her knees to look up at her.