I snap Liberty into her highchair, placing a paper plate in front of her. From mine, I cut tiny pieces of cheese pizza then slide them onto hers. I tear a piece of thinly sliced ham for her and move her toddler cup of milk within her reach.

As I turn toward our table and my plate, I find Hamilton staring at me. “What?”

He shakes his head. “I’ve got a lot to learn,” he murmurs, brow furrowed.

“You’ll be fine,” Memphis assures him. “Most is common ...