"He sounds like you did," Lena told Dinah, who rolled her eyes. "Yes, Daddy," she said, patient. "I'm seventeen. Mom's nineteen. You're nineteen. Berto's seventeen." She grinned, then kind of shuddered. "And there's a guy here who looks just like you who's maybe seventeen and he hit on me. It was traumatic."

Dinah might be choking on chocolate in the background.