Ever since Liz broached the subject, Agnes had been fascinated to hear stories about her father. Some nights, she insisted on more than one or she would simply refuse to go to sleep. Liz didn't mind all that much—it was cathartic, in a way, to talk about everything that had happened in the past few years, even if the anecdotes she shared were highly censored.

Tonight, Liz managed to gently extricate herself from Agnes' sleepy embrace after only a single story, one that had quickly become her little girl's favorite—the tale of how Liz had met Agnes' father, complete with a malfunctioning alarm clock, helicopters, a brave little girl just like her, and the Man in the Box.

Once she tucked Agnes in, Liz headed out into the living room for some much needed relaxation and perhaps a glass of wine, but she found something else instead: Red sitting on her couch with his stocking feet up on the coffee table, reading a book by the dim light from the side table lamp.

After a moment, Red looked up at Liz over the top of his reading glasses; her stomach flipped as his eyes met hers.

"You used your key," she said.

"I was under the impression that you gave it to me for precisely this purpose."

"Of course."

Red nodded and tilted his head to one side, the tension in the room growing with every passing moment as he regarded her silently. He must have overheard her. There was no other explanation for his demeanor.

"That was an interesting bedtime story you were telling Agnes. You should write it down, publish it as a roman à clef."

Liz rounded the coffee table and joined Red on the couch, kicking off her own shoes and propping her feet up next to his.

"She doesn't remember Tom. I can't think of a good reason to keep up appearances, at least between us. Not a good enough reason that it would outweigh the benefit of honesty, anyway."

For a long while, Red's eyes danced back and forth over her face—searching, studying, seeking something unspoken…

"Someday," he said eventually, "you're going to have to tell me how and when you remembered."

"Is it not enough for you that I did?"

"I'm a curious man. I live for knowing all the… juicy details."

"Sucks, doesn't it?" Liz rested her head on the back of the couch, close to Red's shoulder. "Not knowing the whole truth?"

Red took a deep breath and let it out slowly, before shutting his book.

"Point taken," he said, and then he tucked the book and the glasses inside the side table drawer and shifted to face Liz, the corners of his lips turned down in the slightest pout.

Liz couldn't tear her eyes away; her body tensed, preparing itself to lean in towards Red without much of a conscious thought on her part, as if pulled forward like a magnet. Nothing was more important in that moment than tasting that silly, dramatic pout. But alas, just as their lips were about to touch, Agnes' bedroom door creaked open and the little girl sped down the hall, her new favorite stuffed animal in tow.

Liz pressed her forehead against her fist and breathed through the frustration at the interruption. "Agnes, baby, what are you doing up again?"

"I heard talking. I didn't know Raymond was here," she said. "Are you and mommy having a sleepover?"

Red chuckled. "Why don't we tuck you in together this time? You like that, right?"

"Try and catch me!" she said, and sped off again.

Agnes launched herself onto the bed with far too much energy; Liz fluffed her pillows while Red pulled up the covers and smoothed them out over little body.

"Raymond?"

"Yes, honey?"

"Are you the Man in the Box?"

Red exchanged a quick glance with Liz, unsure how to answer, and she gave a subtle shrug. "I—"

"Because Mommy said the Man in the Box has a secret ide… id…"

"A secret identity?"

She nodded proudly. "Like a superhero."

"I see. And what is the Man in the Box's secret identity?"

Agnes gestured for him to lean in close so she could whisper into his ear; she hadn't, however, quite yet managed to fully master the appropriate volume for a whisper, so Liz could hear what she said clear as day.

"He's my real daddy."

Red pulled back with a start, and Liz couldn't quite decide if it was genuine surprise or not. Perhaps hearing it for the first time from Agnes' lips was surprising, no matter what. He cleared his throat, not breaking eye contact with the little girl.

"Do you want me to be the Man in the Box, Agnes?" he asked, quietly.

Agnes hugged her stuffed animal tightly as she held his gaze and answered him with a bashful, "Yeah."

"Then yes, honey. I am the Man in the Box… and I love you very much. But you knew that already, didn't you?"

Agnes giggled, snuggling down into her pillow with a serene smile on her face. Red bent to kiss her head and Liz followed suit, running her fingers over her hair before slipping quietly out the door, which she pulled closed just until it touched behind her.

Red was waiting for her in the hall with his hands in his pockets, trying and failing to pretend that his entire world hadn't just tilted with Agnes' inquiry.

"So what do you think?" Liz asked. "Are we having a sleepover?"

Red's cheeks twitched and his mouth curved up into a lazy, tired smile. "I thought you'd never ask."

Liz held out her hand, and gave Red's a squeeze once he grasped it, leading him towards her bedroom.