Monday Morning

The sun rises over the suburban horizon, signaling the start of the first full work week.

Chad is a whirlwind of black-and-white energy. He’s already dressed in a crisp suit, bolting down a piece of dry toast while checking his watch. He looks at Cherie, who is sitting at the table in a silk robe, nursing a fresh cup of coffee—one she made herself this time, though she spent ten minutes staring at the machine before she started it.

"I'm late," Chad grunts, kissing her cheek with clinical efficiency. "Remember: no 'circus' equipment in the house today. I don't care what you promised the kids. If I come home to a tripod in the hallway, I'm billing Lisa for my time. See you at six."

He slams the door, and a moment later, his truck rumbles down the driveway. He’s gone. The "Sentinel" has left his post. Cherie rolls her eyes. "The photoshoot's not 'til tomorrow," she says to the empty air.

Kenzie wanders into the kitchen a few minutes later. She looks tired but strangely focused. Her eyes are bright. She sits down across from Cherie and immediately opens her sketchbook, her pencil flying across the page.

"Mom?" Kenzie asks without looking up. "Do you think Lisa would mind if I suggested we do the first shoot... in the master suite? The light there around two o'clock is... it's perfect for something 'editorial'."

Cherie blinks, her heart skipping a beat at the thought of the neighbors in her bedroom while Chad is away. "The bedroom? I... I don't know, honey. That's a bit... private, isn't it?"

"It’s just art, Mom," Kenzie murmurs, her pencil tracing the heavy, masculine line of a shoulder. "Just light and shadow."

Tyler enters the kitchen next. He looks like he hasn't slept. He’s staring at his phone, a small, subtle smirk on his face. He feels... different. He pulls out a chair and sits down with a confidence that makes Cherie tilt her head in confusion.

"Morning, ladies," Tyler says, his voice a little more clear than his usual mumble.