The morning passed quickly, a blur of laughter, last-minute decorations, and the smell of food, along with fresh flowers filling every corner of the house.
By noon, everything was finally ready for Oliver's birthday lunch.
The long wooden tables in the garden were set in the hall, pony-shaped balloons and fresh flowers lined the walkway, and the staff moved like clockwork under Jimmy's supervision.
...
Upstairs, Evelyn was kneeling beside her son's wardrobe, watching as Oliver stood in front of the mirror, frowning at his reflection.
"Mommy," he said thoughtfully, holding two shirts: one white and one blue. Each stretched out, as if presenting evidence. "Which one will make me look older?"
Evelyn blinked, biting back a laugh. "Older? Sweetheart, you're turning four, not forty."
Oliver frowned harder, clearly unimpressed. "But Daddy always looks handsome when he wears a shirt. I want to look handsome too."
