Page 83 of Knot My Type

"How serious?" I ask, trying to keep my voice neutral.

"Serious enough that we're flying out next week to meet with them in person. All three of us."

Before I can respond, Rhys appears in the kitchen with Luna perched on his shoulders, both of them wearing matching expressions of mischief. She's managed to convince him to let her wear her tutu over her leggings, and he's sporting a butterfly hair clip that she clearly insisted on.

"Someone has strong opinions about fashion accessories," he announces, reaching up to steady Luna as she leans forward to inspect the coffee maker.

"I made Daddy Rhys pretty," she declares with satisfaction. "Mommy, can I have coffee too? Just a little tiny bit?"

"Nice try, sweetheart," I tell her, lifting her down from Rhys's shoulders. "But coffee is for grown-ups. How about orange juice?"

"Orange juice with bubbles?" she negotiates hopefully.

“Yes,” I agree, because picking your battles is a crucial parenting skill.

As Rhys starts assembling pancake ingredients with the focused intensity he usually reserves for complex recipes, Kael joins us in the kitchen. He looks remarkably put-together for someone who was unconscious twenty minutes ago, his hair tamed and his clothes wrinkle-free.

"So," he says without preamble, "I got a call from that publisher in New York yesterday. The one who's been trying to poach me for their in-house security consulting."

My heart sinks a little further. Between Fen's Seattle opportunity and now this, it feels like the universe is conspiring to scatter our carefully constructed life to the winds.

"And?" I prompt, though I'm not sure I want to hear the answer.

"They've increased their offer. Significantly. We're talking about enough money to set up Luna's college fund and have plenty left over for whatever comes next."

Luna, who has been listening to this conversation with the intense focus she applies to anything that might affect her routine, pipes up with characteristic directness: "Are we moving away from our house?"

Our individual successes are starting to pull in different directions, and for the first time since we've been together, it's not clear how to maintain our unity while pursuing our separate ambitions.

"We're just exploring options, sunshine," Rhys says gently, but I can see the uncertainty in his eyes. "Nothing's decided yet."

"I don't want to explore options," Luna declares with the stubborn certainty that's inherited from all four of her parents. "I like our house. I like my room. I like my school and my friends and Mrs. Patterson who teaches us about butterflies."

Out of the mouths of babes. She's articulated exactly what I've been feeling but haven't known how to express—the deep reluctance to disrupt something that works so well.

"What about you?" Kael asks me directly. "Your tour schedule is going to keep you traveling for months, and I know there's been talk about a television adaptation of your books."

He's right, of course. The success of my novels has opened doors I never imagined, including preliminary discussions about adapting my stories for a streaming series. It's the kind of opportunity that could change everything—financially, professionally, personally.

"It's all just possibilities right now," I say carefully. "Nothing concrete."

But even as I say it, I know it's not entirely true. The tour is very concrete, starting next month. The television meetings are scheduled for next week. The momentum of my career has reached a point where saying no to opportunities feels like professional suicide.

"Are the daddies going away?" she asks suddenly, syrup coating her chin and concern clouding her dark eyes.

"No one's going anywhere right now," I assure her, though the words feel hollow even as I say them.

"But people do go away sometimes," she presses with the relentless logic of a child who's heard enough adult conversations to understand that change is coming. "Like when Aunt Rebecca went to that place with the funny name."

Stablewood. Rebecca's mysterious departure six months ago is still a source of confusion and concern for all of us. Her explanation about her grandmother's illness had felt incomplete, evasive in a way that was completely unlike her usual directness. The few phone calls we've had since then have been similarly unsatisfying—cheerful but superficial, lacking the deep intimacy that's characterized our friendship for years.

"Aunt Rebecca had family business to take care of," I explain gently. "Sometimes grown-ups have to make difficult choices about where they need to be."

"But we're her family too," Luna points out with devastating accuracy. "She said I was her favorite niece."

"You're her only niece," Kael reminds her with a small smile.

"That's what makes me the favorite," she replies seriously, and despite everything, I find myself laughing.

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