Marcus's father was reviewing quarterly losses when his son appeared in his study doorway, and something in Marcus's posture, straighter than it had been in weeks, chin lifted in a way that looked almost rehearsed, made the older man set the papers down entirely and remove his reading glasses.
"I'm going to marry Wren," Marcus said, before he could lose the nerve he'd spent the entire drive over carefully building up.
His father was quiet for a long moment, studying him with an expression Marcus couldn't quite place, something that looked, disturbingly, less like surprise and more like a man confirming a suspicion he'd been quietly carrying for some time already.
"I see," his father said finally, setting his glasses down on the desk with deliberate care.
"That's all you have to say."
