“But Daddy—” Bo began.
“No buts,” he told her. “Eat your dinner.”
Suddenly, the festive atmosphere was gone - evaporating into the same glum mood that had driven them away from the dining room table to eat in front of the holo-programs years ago.
He resisted the impulse to feel bad. He was gone so much. It wouldn’t be right to have a pet. Things were already hard enough.
And pets died. That was the last thing he wanted his sweet girl to have to go through. They’d all had more than enough of that.
At the foot of the table, April was looking sadly at Bo.
He glanced over and saw that Bo had abandoned her experiment with lasagna, and was painting her old uva-jam onto a plain slice of bread.