The next morning brought an unexpected ripple through the household. Marcus appeared in the kitchen at breakfast time, a place he rarely set foot in. He wore a soft-knit sweater instead of a suit. His presence startled the staff and nearly froze Rosie mid step as she plated scrambled eggs.
“Good morning,” he said, settling at the island.
“Good morning, sir,” she replied, guiding the boys onto their stools.
Marcus watched them quietly as they ate their pancakes shaped like laughing suns. He noticed how Rosie cut Milo’s food into small neat squares because he preferred uniform shapes. How she served Oliver extra fruit because he loved berries. How she kept Jasper’s eggs on a separate plate so they wouldn’t touch anything else.
The boys had developed entire universes of quirks he had never discovered.
Finally he tried to speak. “Your pajamas,” he said to Milo. “They had rockets. Do you like space?”
The boys exchanged glances before Oliver answered softly. “We want to visit the stars.”
“Why?” Marcus asked, careful not to let the question sound skeptical.
Jasper toyed with his fork. “Because Mama is in the stars.”