"Where are we going, Aunty Anjali?" Jacob asked, excitement in his voice.
Anjali grinned widely. "Your mommy told us we could take you to lunch, and then I was thinking we could visit the—"
"The Repository?!"
Anjali laughed and nodded. "Sure. Whatever you want."
From the driver's seat, Marc glanced at his wife. Though her smile could light up a room, her eyes were hollow and sad.
He knew what she was thinking, and he reached across the car and took her hand, lacing his fingers into hers.
"Uncle Marc, tell me the story of when mommy and daddy and you saved Anjali from the witch."
Anjali smiled. He's definitely Elizabeth's son. She thought. So inquisitive and thoughtful for his age. How could he be Aaron's son, too?
Anjali had never approved of Elizabeth's relationship with Aaron, and him leaving her with a child had only led the Indian beauty to dislike Aaron even more.
Though they weren't related by blood, Jacob still thought of the Merrits as family, and Marc and Anjali were just happy that Elizabeth shared her son with him.
After two miscarriages, the couple had found out they were very nearly sterile and had decided to stop trying for a child.
Anjali rested her head back on the seat and held Marc's hand a little tighter, listening to the same story she'd heard a thousand times of how her knight in shining armor had rescued her for the first time.
He would have been so good with our kids. She thought sadly.
Now, as the closest thing they had to a son sat in the backseat, all Anjali could think was, He may not have a father, but at least he's got us.