Chapter 8 - Sunday Morning Pancakes

Two months later, the private dining room at Ferrante’s looked entirely different.
The white linen tablecloths were gone, replaced by a long wooden table loaded down with pancakes, maple syrup, fresh berries, and four steaming mugs of hot chocolate with floating marshmallows.
Adrien Moretti—wearing a casual cotton sweater instead of his usual bespoke suit—stood by the kitchen pass-through, flipping pancakes with a concentration that rivaled a bomb disposal expert.
"Daddy," Lily called out from the head of the table, swinging her legs back and forth. "You're burning the edges!"
Adrien paused, looking down at the slightly charred pancake. A genuine, rumbling laugh escaped his throat. "That's called artisanal crispness, Lily. Your mother appreciates my culinary evolution."
Clara walked out of the kitchen carrying a tray of fresh orange juice, her hair tied back in a messy bun, wearing an apron that read World's Okayest Baker. She walked up behind Adrien, wrapping her arms around his waist and pressing her cheek against his back.
"You know," Clara murmured, smiling against his sweater, "the girls are still grading you in their pink notebook. You lost points last Tuesday because you didn't know the lyrics to the magical unicorn song."
Adrien turned around in her arms, resting his hands on her waist, pulling her close against him. "I'll study the lyrics tonight. I refuse to fail my evaluation."
"You already passed, Adrien," Clara whispered, her amber eyes shining with absolute devotion. "You passed the moment you stayed."
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At the table, Sophie held up the pink notebook, her pencil moving swiftly. Question one hundred and two: Is daddy going to stay forever?
Sophie looked across the table at Lily and Emma, then wrote down a resounding YES.