When Her "Death" Couldn't Break Him (Cecilia and Nathaniel)

Cecilia opened her mouth to offer to accompany Elliot, yet Nathaniel's low voice arrived first, cutting gently through the clatter of dishes. “You're not a toddler anymore. Off you go on your own.”

Elliot answered with an obedient little hum before slipping off his stool and padding toward the restroom corridor, the tassels on his monkey mask bobbing with every determined step.

The moment he disappeared around the corner, Cecilia's shoulders stiffened. She turned to Nathaniel. “Would you mind trailing the kid? If some creep sets eyes on him, what then?”

Nathaniel met her gaze, calm and steady. "Relax. Security here is airtight, and he's got a bodyguard shadowing him. Nothing will happen."

Assured that a guard was in tow, Cecilia allowed a breath she hadn't realized she was holding to ease out.

Only then did she notice how tightly Nathaniel's jaw was set. “You look upset. Something wrong? Work trouble?"

"No. I'm perfectly fine," Nathaniel replied, voice even, expression unreadable.

Across the table, Jonathan squinted at his father. "Dad, your face is darker than a chalkboard. Drop the act."

Nathaniel's brows knitted, a tiny storm cloud passing over his features.

Cecilia leaned in, worry softening her tone. “Talk to me. What's weighing on you?”

"I'm just working through a single question,” Nathaniel said, choosing each word with maddening care.

"Which question?"

He locked eyes with her. "What suit I should wear for New Year's."

straight for the strike

tried to guess where the pitch might

the same," she answered, tone practical, blind

The phrase rattled around in Nathaniel's chest, souring his mood a

the shift

his dad deserved a lift, not

I need the restroom too," Jonathan announced, already

brushing a

room, shoulders squared with

both boys gone, the silence between husband and wife settled

generous slice of braised sea

took a bite and mumbled, "I'm already putting on weight. How

irked that she showered the children with new outfits

bodyguard and stole up the escalator to the sixth-floor

towering mannequins and rows of tailored jackets, the little boy in a monkey mask stood out like confetti on black

into concern. "Hello there, young man. Why are you here all by yourself?

his

curious stare. "I'd like to see the figest suits you carry formen," he said, every

froze, surprise flickering across

her the child belonged to serious

s