"Marco ... I want to ask you something," I said, my voice soft. The man placed the book he was reading onto the sofa side table.
Marco looked at me, his eyes filled with concern. "What is it, darling?"
I took a deep breath, trying to figure out how to phrase my question. "Do I look like your mother?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.
Marco looked surprised and confused. "Why do you ask?" he asked, his voice laced with concern.
I felt my cheeks flush and I looked down. "Your father told me this morning," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
"I will answer on one condition that you tell me the truth about why you want me so much, as you said a while ago," he said, his voice full of teasing.
"Alright," I agreed.
"My mother was beautiful, but you're more beautiful than her."
