“He loves the beach as much as they do. I could buy a place now. True Angel’s kicking serious butt. I could look on Cape May, it’s closer to home, but …”

“It’s hard, even for a good daddy, to do everything.”

“I worry I let some of it slide. Baking two dozen cupcakes—gluten-free—for Bradley’s class, making sure Mariah has the right color hair ribbon to match her outfit—that kid is fierce for fashion. How did you do it?”

“Honey, I had you, so if I couldn’t get to the cupcakes, you picked them up at the bakery. If I couldn’t find the hair ribbon, you found the hair clip with the flower on it that did the job.”

She sat beside him, a comfort, picked up the glass of wine he’d barely touched. “There’s no shame in needing help, Raylan.”

“It’s not that. Every time I start down the road of looking for a nanny, it just feels wrong. For them. For us. I don’t know why, but it feels wrong.”

“Yes, you do know why.” She patted his leg as she sipped his wine. “Just like you know what you should do, need to do, and, in your heart, want to do.”

“And that feels like leaving you, turning away from everything we had, that we built, that we wanted.”

“Oh, Raylan, honey, I left you. I didn’t want to, I didn’t mean to, but I left you. Now you have to do what’s right for our babies, for yourself.” After setting down the wine, she kissed his cheek. “I count on you for that.”

Then she rose, spread her white wings, and flew into the night.

When he got back to Brooklyn, he made the painfully precise arrangements to set up a playdate for both kids, then made the much simpler ones for a partners’ meeting.

This meant using the third-floor conference room and ordering in Chinese for lunch.

Jonah, clean-shaven after his winter beard experiment, scooped up sweet and sour chicken. “Marta just got me the sales reports on Angel, and Snow Raven—preorders for Queen’s July issue. I’ll shoot them out to both of you, and put them up in here so we can eat real hearty. ’Cause we are kicking it, pals.”

“Good to know.” Deftly, Bick manipulated chopsticks in her noodles. “Because I peed on a stick this morning. Pats and I are going to have another mouth to feed next spring.”

“Holy crap.” Jonah pointed at her while Raylan sprang up to round the table and hug her. “You’re knocked up?”

“That’s affirmative. Keeping it down low for now, and we’re going into the clinic for the official test, but you guys should know.”

“How you doing?” Raylan asked her. “How’re you feeling?”

“Five by five right now. May it continue. And really happy. Stupid, crazy happy. Look, I don’t want to tell anybody else until I go to the doc’s, get the all clear, make sure everything’s baking right. That means keep it zipped, Jonah.”

He looked offended. “I can keep it zipped.”

“Usually we have to weld it shut, but this is important. Zipped until I give you the green.”

“How come you’re not ragging on Raylan?”

“Because he doesn’t blab.”

“Blab!” Jonah huffed. “I do, too.”

Bick laughed, punched his shoulder. “A wise man knows himself.”

“This is great news, Bick. I’m happy for you and Pats.”

“I’m happy for us, too, Raylan. Now, you called the meeting. Is this to tell us how you spent your summer vacation?”

“I can sum that up pretty easy. Pretty damn perfect. The kids loved it. I have to confess, Bradley continues his Dark Knight obsession.”

“You have to do something about that kid,” Jonah told him.

“An icon’s an icon, but I had to make the difficult decision to help him re-create Wayne Manor out of sand.”

“What? What about Snow Raven’s Aerie! It’s cooler!”

“He’s only seven, Jonah.” Nearly eight, Raylan realized with a jolt. “Give him time. Now, before we see the numbers, and deal with any other business, I need to ask you both—as partners, not friends—if me working from home puts any hitches in the company, in production, in creativity, and in the division of responsibilities.”

“You were working from home when you came up with True Angel,” Bick reminded him. “That’s the opposite of hitches.”

“And we’re already set up for you to work remotely over the rest of summer, or the bulk of it,” Jonah put in. “We’ve got the tech, Ray-Man. Yeah, it’s great when we can all be in the same building and brainstorm, or make decisions, or argue about decisions. But we’re doing all that, when we need to, by videoconference.”

“How would you both feel if it wasn’t just over the summer, or school vacations, or kid-home-sick days?”

Bick sat back. “Is something wrong with the kids?”

“No. But I feel I have to do better for them. I’m not enough. They need more. They need family and a steadier routine than I can give them on my own. I put it off, for me, and I can’t keep doing that. I decided to move back home, back to Traveler’s Creek.”

“From Brooklyn to Boondocks?” Jonah said, obviously shocked.

“I came from Boondocks to Brooklyn. Their grandmother’s there, and they don’t see enough of each other. Their aunt and uncle, their cousin. Family. And I know they’re all busy, but they’d be there. And so would we. I wouldn’t have to send Mom a video of Mo’s dance recital or Bradley’s Little League game. She could be there. I know, if I needed, they could sit and do homework in Rizzo’s, like I did.”

“This feels sudden, but it’s not,” Bick said.

No, Raylan thought, not sudden at all.

“I’ve been thinking about it for a while, but putting it off because selling that house we bought together, fixed up together, brought the kids home to when they were born, that felt like a betrayal.”

“It’s not,” Jonah murmured. “It’s not.”

“Appreciate that. I can take the train up or drive up, maybe once a month, or whatever works. And I wouldn’t worry about the kids because they’d be with my mom or my sister. If it doesn’t work, if it affects the company, I’ll step out. You can buy me out and—”

“Shut the fuck up.” Bick stabbed a finger at him.

“Ditto. This is our baby, womb to tomb. It’s the three of us,” Jonah said, “or it’s none of us. You’re the one who said let’s make our own fucking comics.”

“I was sort of drunk at the time.”

“Well, we made our own fucking comics even after we sobered up. Maybe you’re going to move to Shit’s Creek, but we’ve got three paddles.”

“Jeez, Jonah.” Bick patted a hand on her heart. “You’re a frigging poet. How do the kids feel about it? You wouldn’t have told us if you hadn’t talked to them first.”

“They’re for it. It surprised me how fast they got on board. They have friends here, school, the house. But they’re excited about it. Mo wants a house with a princess tower. I’m afraid Brad’s pulling for a Wayne Manor.”