A sound.
Soft giggles and familiar voices drifted upward from the floor below, tugging her out of her spiral. She stepped out of her suite in nothing but her nightgown, ignoring the fact that her hair was a wild mess of curls and her eyes still carried the shadows of the night before.
The voices grew clearer as she descended the grand staircase. Laughter, clinking cutlery, the melodic tone of baby chatter.
And then she saw them.
In the sun-drenched dining room, Lorenzo sat at the head of the table, baby Louis perched proudly on his lap. The toddler was shoving tiny hands full of scrambled eggs into his mouth, barely able to chew before reaching for the next bite. His cheeks were already stained with orange from the tomato sauce, and his white shirt had suffered a breakfast massacre. But he looked happy.
Beside Lorenzo sat Natalie, wiping her eyes as she laughed. Noah and Abraham had their forks mid-air, trading stories, and Henry had his phone up, grinning at the screen.
