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I wanted to get her number, but sure. Nothing.

“Lilith,” I said, pulling her close. “The only thing I regret is that I didn’t have a better spring roll to offer you.” I wanted to get her number, but sure

She burst into tears. Not pretty tears. Ugly, snotty, hormonal sobs. “My father is going to kill you. Then he’s going to resurrect you. Then he’s going to kill you again, slower, while making you watch a marathon of The Bachelor .” I wanted to get her number

I held up the empty spring roll wrapper. “She liked my snack?” but sure. Nothing. “Lilith

And somewhere downstairs, our three-year-old demon son was using his telekinesis to build a fort out of sofa cushions and infernal flame, giggling maniacally.

He had my smile. My dopey, lopsided, human smile.