Carol laughed softly. "He is his father's son," she said. "But he is also mine. And that means… when it truly matters—he will choose correctly."
"For his sake," he said quietly, "I hope you're right."
Carol reached out, squeezing his arm gently. "What you just told me explains why you are worried," Carol said slowly. "But not why you are sad."
"What?"
"You are both worried and sad," she repeated gently. "Why are you sad?"
Marco frowned faintly, instinctively retreating behind the walls he knew so well. "I just told you," he replied, a bit too quickly.
Carol shook her head almost immediately. "Nonsense," she said. "That's not it. Look at me," she murmured.
Marco did.
"I see it clear as day, Marco," Carol said quietly, her eyes searching his. "It's like a light is dim in your eyes."
"I can't tell you, Ma," he said. "I'm sorry."
"Marco Costa Montgomery."
"Ma!" Marco reacted immediately, straightening, almost like muscle memory had kicked in.
"Start talking," Carol ordered.
