Robin's shoulders slump forward and he presses two fingers to his forehead, closing his eyes and drawing in a long, deep breath. He grips his cell phone and tries to tamp down… whatever it is that he's feeling, and wishing more than anything, he'd just ignored Marian's calls for the evening.

But of course, when he saw her number flash across his screen, ignoring her call hadn't even occurred to him. Marian didn't call often, and when she did, it wasn't from her cell phone, but from the house phone–and when she did, it wasn't Marian who was on the other end of the line, but Roland.

He looked forward to those calls, barely ever letting it ring more than twice. He loved hearing about his son's adventures in first grade and about all of his friends, he enjoyed listening to him talk about his favorite TV shows and what books he was reading, and even the random stories of the trouble he'd gotten himself into, like when it'd been cold and snowy out so he'd took his hockey stick and a puck down into the basement and ended up shattering a lamp that was one of Marian's favorite antique store finds.

So, when he saw his ex-wife's cell phone number flash across the screen, his stomach sank a little and his heart beat a little faster and by the time he said her name, a hundred worst-case scenarios had already filled his head.

Nothing terrible had happened, though, and in fact, Marian was calling with what she thought was good news–and until he hung up the phone, he'd thought it to be the very best news.

The plans for Roland's birthday party had to be switched–something about a bounce house being double booked–so, she and Mulan moved the party up a week, and that meant he'd get Roland on his actual birthday. He'd readily agreed to come and pick him up from school as as soon as they hung up, he'd sent a quick text to John to let him know he'd have to manage things on his own at the store that day.

Then he realized what that meant.

He'd be in competition with Marian and Mulan–and when put up against the two of them, and whatever they had planned, he'd surely lose and end up disappointing his son.

Disappointing Roland was bad enough, but to do it on his birthday seemed an extra harsh blow–and while that was only his fault, admitting that was difficult, so instead, he placed the blame on Marian's shoulders.

"Well, Henry's completely wiped out," Regina says, rounding the corner into the dining room where he's sitting–and as he looks up, watches as her eyes shift to the game of Clue still scattered around the table.

"Uh, sorry," he murmurs, setting his phone down and shifting a bit awkwardly. "I, um… got a bit distracted."

"It's fine," she assures him. "I'm… more concerned about the look on your face."

"Hm?"

"You look like you could strangle someone."

His eyes roll. "Just… my ex-wife." She nods and offers him an understanding little smile, her eyes shifting down to his phone and before she can say anything, he sighs. "That's not fair," he tells her, looking up. "I'm mad at myself. Not her. She didn't do anything wrong. She's… actually just trying to do me a favor."

"But it's easier to be mad at her."

"Yeah," he murmurs, sighing a little as he reaches for a the little notepads and pencils tossed to the center of the game. "I just–"

"I get it."

"Do you?" he asks, chuckling softly. "Care to explain it to me? Because I don't get it."

Nodding, Regina takes a few steps in and smiling gently as she reaches for the game box's top. "Being a single parent is hard enough," she tells him, her shoulders rising and falling with a shrug. "But you get to be a single parent with two other people–two other people who, good intentions or not, get to be with your son all of the time–and I think that's harder than doing it alone."

Robin nods. "I get him on his birthday–for that whole weekend, actually."

At that, Regina's eyes narrow and her head tips to the side. "Okay," she murmurs slowly. "Now I'm confused."

Chuckling softly, he nods. "The weekend before, Marian and Mulan are throwing this huge party. All of his friends from school are going to be there and all the kids from his hockey team, too, and–" He stops, drawing in and releasing a short breath. "She called from the store. Roland was with her and I could hear him. He's so excited for this party. They're picking out stuff to go in gift bags and she hired an actual fucking Spiderman to come and sit in a photo booth and take pictures with the kids."

"Wow. Sounds like she can really throw a party."

"There's going to be a bounce house and this ridiculous cake that looks like it should be on the damn Food Network." His eyes widen as he feels his heart beat a bit faster. "Regina, she sent me a picture of that damn thing and–"

"Robin…"

"What?"

"It's just a party."

"It's a party with a real, live Spiderman," he deadpans. "How are me and my store-bought sheet cake supposed to compete with that?"

Smiling softly, Regina reaches out, her hand falls to his arm. "You're not going to compete," she tells him gently. "And you're not going to give that child a sheet cake from whatever grocery store is nearest to your house."

"I'm not?" he asks, genuinely curious of what he's supposed to do instead or how anything he picks will compare. "I can't bake or–"

"I can."

"You can bake?"

She nods, rubbing her hand over his arm. "I have this recipe that Henry loves. I'll teach you."

"But–"

"And Roland is going to be thrilled because he gets a bonus birthday." She grins again as he draw in a breath he listens. "And he gets to spend a whole weekend with you, doing things he doesn't get to do all of the time."

Considering it, he nods. "We could go hiking. He loves doing that."

"There you go."

"I could teach him to go ice fishing."

Regina nods, a little grin tugging up at the corner of her mouth. "And while I think that sounds like a terrible way to spend a cold day in February, I'm sure Roland will love it."

"We've never gone before."

"See?"

He feels himself calming down. "You know, your house is on the way and–"

"You want to stop?"

He nods, feeling a smile pull onto his lips. "Giving Roland any time with Henry is only going to win me points, and I think it'd be the nice for the four of us to get some dinner, maybe catch a movie or… something…" His voice falters as her expression changes. "What?"

"The four of us," she repeats. "I just…I like how that sounds."

"Me, too."

Leaning in, she presses a soft kiss to his lips, then as she pulls back, she reaches for his hand, giving it a soft tug. She tosses down the box top and leads him to the kitchen, and he watches as she pulls the necessary ingredients from her cabinets–and he can't help but laugh as she opens up the pantry door, tugging a black apron from a hook and tossing it at him before selecting a cookbook.

It's not something that was published; instead, it's made of construction paper, looks like she bound it herself at an office supply store–and when she sets it down on the counter, she traces her fingers over the title–Henry's Favorites–written in blue glitter. He can't stop himself from smiling when she looks back to him, explaining the book was a mother's day gift the previous year and one of her most treasured possessions.

Regina opens up to the page with a recipe for "Best-Ever Birthday Cake" and he chuckles softly at a picture of Henry, wearing a green and yellow party hat, smiling widely with his tongue poking through a space in his mouth where a tooth had once been.

Together, they mix the ingredients and he holds his breath as they pour them into a glass baking dish. He puts the cake into the oven and Regina sets a timer before sliding her arm around his waist and resting her head on his shoulder as they wait–and all the while, she listens as he plans Roland's birthday weekend.

He's almost startled when the timer rings and a grin edges onto Regina's lips as she hands him a pair of gray over mitts, letting him know that he can do the honors of pulling the cake from the oven.

Nodding, he takes the mitts and slips them onto his hands, slowly pulling open the oven door and grabbing hold of the baking dish–and almost as soon as he withdraws the cake, he's overwhelmed by the soft, warm smell of honey and vanilla.

Turning back to the counter, he sets it down and feels a flicker of both pride and disappointment when he looks down at the golden cake and Regina tells him it'll be another fifteen minutes before it's cool, and longer until then can test it. Then, she links his arm through his, reminding him that no birthday cake is complete without copious amounts of frosting, as she tugs him toward the pantry–and he finds himself feeling so much calmer and grateful that fate allowed their lives to collide.