Nia's throat closed. She kissed Amara's hair and smelled strawberry shampoo that was not the brand she used to buy.
"Stay up here a little longer," she said. "Play your game. Mommy needs to talk to Daddy downstairs. If you need me, you call."
"Are you mad?" Amara asked.
Nia almost lied. Then she remembered seven months of being lied to by omission and decided her daughter deserved at least a piece of honesty shaped for a six-year-old.
"I'm confused," she said. "And a little upset that I didn't get to help choose. But I love you. And I love Daddy. Those things don't stop being true just because grown-ups make messes."
Amara nodded as if this were acceptable jurisprudence. Nia left her there with the elephant and went back into the hall.