The girl frowned. “Why she in bed?” “She’s trying to make the bed, but I refuse to get out, and she’s too weak to move me.” She giggled at her uncle. “You’re lazy.” “Lazily handsome.” He winked at her. The girl turned to me and announced, “Papa can move him.” On second thought, she pursed her lips. “Nevers mind.” “Why never mind?” Ronan asked with humor. “Does it have something to do with his phone in your hand?” She glanced at the cell and made a face like she didn’t like the question. “Papa says I can play a princess game if I eat breakfast.” I smiled. “And I’m assuming you didn’t eat?” She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t like eggs. Or toast. Or porridge. Or—” “Okay,” Ronan chuckled. “You don’t like food.” Happy he understood, she nodded, then said quietly, “I might like food after I play new princess game.” Wow. This little girl was going to rule the world. Not to mention, she appeared to be about three with the vocabulary of a child much older. She would grow up to be a gorgeous female Einstein. Or a criminal mastermind. She was giving Ronan those big dark eyes that would be impossible for even Hitler to resist. Ronan chuckled and shook his head. “Okay, kitty Kat, what do you need from me?” She smiled real big and handed him the phone. “Find game, please. I could do it,” she said haughtily, “but Papa won’t tell me the password.” “What a tyrant,” Ronan drawled. “What’s the game called?” “T dunno. It was on commercial after one of Mamma’s kissy shows.” It took Ronan three tries to figure out his brother’s passcode. I was beginning to think this entire family was full of geniuses. He opened the app store and searched for princess games with bloody inked fingers. His niece peeked over his shoulder while he scrolled through the games, and I felt more than content just watching them. “Okay, we got Princess Hair Salon,” Ronan said. “Ew.” He moved on. “Princess Room Cleanup?” Her nose wrinkled. Mine too. “Princess Horse Club?”