“Theo-dore,” she says very seriously. “Sit up.”
The table goes silent.
Theo turns to her.
“Lucy,” he says calmly.
“Yes?”
“I am your dad.”
She considers this.
“Yes,” she agrees. “But she is the boss.”
Elizabeth beams.
Theo exhales. “You may not boss grown men around.”
Lucy frowns. “But Nana does.”
“That,” Theo says, “is a special exemption.”
Lucy thinks this through, then nods, satisfied.
“Okay,” she says. “I will boss you when I am Nana.”
Ivy loses it. She laughs so hard she has to put her head down on the table.
Miranda snorts. “I would pay money to see that.”
Jasper grins. “I’d move countries.”
Elizabeth sips her tea, serene.
“I’ll be dead by then,” she says cheerfully. “So do carry on.”
Lucy gasps. “Nana!”
Elizabeth pats her hand. “Not for a very long time, darling. Eat your cake.”
The women settle into easy chatter. Ivy and Miranda lean toward each other, heads close, giggling over something I don’t catch. It’s that soft, familiar sound of women who feel safe enough to be silly. Elizabeth listens, interjects occasionally, guiding the table like she guides everything else. Calm. Effortless. In charge without trying.
Geoff’s hand finds my lower back, warm and steady.
I glance down at Lucy, who is carefully arranging petit fours in a line and whispering instructions to them.
“This one is the queen,” she explains to SJ. “This one is her helper. And this one is in prison because it is chocolate.”
SJ nods, deeply invested.
Miranda watches them, something soft crossing her face.
Elizabeth turns back to me.
“You fit,” she says quietly. Not a question. A statement.
I blink. “Sorry?”
