My heart pounds loudly in my chest, and I have to stop myself from putting my arm around her and pulling her closer. "Definitely," I say. I can see the shift in her demeanor - the slump of her shoulders, the way her eyes dull. She's getting bored. Or sad. And all I want to do is make her laugh again. "Tell me, Emily, what do you want to be when you grow up?" I do a horrible impression of a stuffy therapist.

She laughs loudly, which earns us dirty looks from the twins, but I ...