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Neal stood by the doorway, watching Mozzie work his magic like a tiny, meticulous tailor. Leo sat patiently in the middle of the living room floor, his legs crossed, arms folded, and eyes sparkling with equal parts excitement and suspicion.
“Now,” Mozzie said, holding up a perfectly tiny vest and button down shirt. “A junior gentleman must always be dressed for the part. Especially on his fourth birthday. This isn’t just a party—it’s a statement.”
Leo nodded earnestly. “Like a spy?”
Mozzie smiled, adjusting the vest’s buttons with the care of a surgeon. “Exactly. A birthday spy. Every detail matters. Appearance is your first secret weapon.”
Neal leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, looking at the scene in front of him with a mix of gratitude and wistfulness.
He thought about his own birthdays, years spent with no one to fuss over his clothes, no one waiting with a gift or a smile. His dad, a shadow on the edges of his memory, more myth than man. His mom, doing what she could but never quite enough to fill the empty spaces. He loved his mother dearly, but there was always a nagging loneliness in his childhood, especially on his birthday.
Neal stepped into the room just as Mozzie finished dressing Leo in his playfully astute outfit. “You look sharp, bud.”
“Thanks, daddy. Uncle Mozzie says I look like a spy!”
Neal huffed a laugh. “Oh, really? Well, you’re the best dressed spy I know.”
“You know spies?” Leo gasped.
Neal racked his brain for a second, then smirked. “Let’s just say I’ve met a few people who thought they were spies.”
Mozzie chimed in from behind Leo, adjusting the child’s vest. “And your father, my dear boy, could be considered a spy at work.”
“Moz,” Neal sighed, exasperated.
Leo beamed like he’d just found out his father was a superhero in disguise. Mozzie couldn’t help but let out a loud laugh.
“Alright, you guys, out on the balcony,” Neal said as he shooed his son and friend out the big double doors to the terrace. “Birthday guests start arriving in fifteen minutes.”
The balcony had been transformed.
Streamers in various shades of blue danced lazily in the wind, tied on the concrete beams and fluttering like little flags of joy. Multiple bundles of colorful balloons were anchored to the ground. A table near the left side of the terrace was stacked with cupcakes iced in white and blue, and the scent of frosting and birthday sugar filled the air. Space heaters were stationed along the walls of the balcony, combating the chilly January breeze.
“Whoa,” Leo whispered, eyes wide as he stepped outside.
Mozzie raised an eyebrow, nodding in approval at the setup. “Not bad, mon frère.”
“Thanks, Moz,” Neal said, smirking as he followed them out with a small stack of party hats in one hand.
Just then, June swept onto the balcony like royalty arriving at a garden party. “Darling, this is beautiful,” she said, beaming at Leo before placing a light kiss on Neal’s cheek. “And this young man looks like he just stepped off the pages of a fashion magazine.”
“Uncle Mozzie picked my outfit,” Leo declared proudly.
“I can tell,” June replied with a conspiratorial smile.
The doorbell rang inside.
Neal moved quickly, tossing the party hats to Mozzie. “Okay, you’re on party hat duty. No conspiracy theories until the cake is served.”
Mozzie huffed, adjusting his own hat with great seriousness.
The guests arrived in a happy trickle. Peter and Elizabeth were first, bearing an armful of neatly wrapped gifts and a Tupperware container full of Elizabeth’s famous chocolate chip cookies.
Peter crouched to Leo’s level. “Hey, champ. You’re probably too old for piggy back rides now, right?”
“Nuh-uh!” Leo whined, putting his hands up to prove he could do it. Peter laughed warmly and turned on his heels, letting Leo hop up on his back.
“Giddy up, horsey!” Leo squealed as Peter trotted a small circle around the balcony. Peter veered dramatically to the left, narrowly missing a planter. Leo howled with laughter, gripping Peter’s shoulders like he was flying a jet.
Elizabeth stood nearby, phone in hand, capturing the moment with a soft smile. “You know, if you fall and twist something, I’m not taking you to the ER again.”
Peter slowed down, almost out of breath. “Ah, it would be worth it,” he decided as he let Leo hop off and run to his next adventure.
Diana and Jones arrived soon after. Diana handed Leo a gift wrapped in dinosaur paper, while Jones offered a high five so enthusiastic that Leo had to jump to reach it.
Neal stepped back for a moment, watching it all unfold like a film reel he couldn’t believe he was starring in. Laughter, conversation, the clink of glasses and rustle of gift wrap—it was everything a childhood birthday should be. He swallowed past the tightness in his throat.
“Hey.” Peter appeared beside him holding two drinks—a glass of wine for Neal and a bottle of beer for himself.
Neal took the glass gratefully, watching Leo dart across the balcony in his sunglasses and spy vest. “Thanks.”
“He looks like he’s having the time of his life,” Peter observed, the edge of a smile tugging at his mouth.
Neal nodded slowly. “He is.”
Peter sensed a melancholy timbre to Neal’s voice. “What’s wrong?”
“I just—” Neal said quietly, “I never had this. Birthday parties, people showing up just to see me smile. My mom did her best, but… it wasn’t like this.”
Peter looked at him sideways, sensing the weight behind the words. “You’re doing a great job, Neal.”
Neal let out a soft breath, eyes still on Leo as the boy crept dramatically behind a potted plant, holding his magnifying glass in front of him like it was a high-tech gadget. “I just want him to grow up never having to wonder if he was worth showing up for.”
Peter’s voice was firm, but kind. “He won’t. Because you’re here, every day. And so are we.”
Neal decided to say what was on his mind. “But… I wasn’t. For four months, I wasn’t there.”
Peter was quiet for a moment, letting Neal’s words settle between them. Then he spoke, “You made a mistake, Neal, but you make up for it every day by showing up for him. He won’t remember those four months when he grows up—he’ll just remember you. The kid adores you, Neal.”
Neal sighed. “My first week in prison, Mozzie told me Leo wasn’t sleeping well. He would cry and fight bedtime every night, just screaming for me to come back. I was already workshopping ways to get out of prison, but that made me want to break out right then and there.” Neal swallowed thickly. “I’d never felt so helpless in my life.”
“This guilt you feel is just proof of how much you love him,” Peter said softly, resting his hand on Neal’s shoulder.
“I just see how happy he is right now, and I want him to be that way forever.”
“He will be. It won’t look exactly like this,” Peter chuckles as Leo continues playing his spy adventure, “but he will be happy. I’m sure of it.”
Neal smiled warmly. “Thank you, Peter.”
◈
As the sun dipped lower, they sang happy birthday. Leo blew out the candles on a small cake shaped like a magnifying glass—Mozzie’s idea, naturally. The group clapped and cheered, and Leo declared loudly that his wish had been “a secret spy wish.”
After cake, it was time for presents. Neal sat beside Leo on a picnic blanket as he tore through wrapping paper like a man on a mission. There was a toy drone from Jones, a mini telescope from Diana, art supplies from June, and tickets to the Planetarium from Peter and Elizabeth. Leo was overtaken with joy at each gift, and said thank you to everyone before moving to the next present.
Then Mozzie stepped forward with a rectangular box wrapped in silver paper and a bow that looked like it had been folded using origami techniques.
“This is your first ever spy kit,” Mozzie announced, presenting the box with the gravitas of someone unveiling government secrets. “Use it wisely, Agent Leo. With great gadgets comes great responsibility.”
Leo’s eyes went huge. He opened the box to find: a pair of kid-sized binoculars, a notepad marked “TOP SECRET,” a flashlight, invisible ink pens, and a tiny voice recorder.
“Daddy, look!” Leo exclaimed, overcome with excitement. He held it up for Neal to see, beaming with joy.
“I see, buddy. That looks super fun.” Neal then turned to Moz and mouthed a thank you with a soft smile. Moz had never looked so proud in Neal’s opinion.
The party lingered into the early evening. Sunset turned the city gold, laughter echoed around the balcony, and Neal snapped dozens of pictures he already knew he’d print and frame.
Eventually, guests began to trickle out with warm hugs and sleepy goodbyes. June kissed Leo on the forehead and promised to stop by tomorrow to take him to the park. After everyone had left, Neal looked over to see that Leo was fighting to keep his eyes open as he colored a picture with his new art supplies.
“C’mon, buddy. Bedtime.” Neal bent down to lift Leo from the fleece picnic blanket he was sitting on.
The balcony had gone quiet, the kind of hush that only comes after a day filled with joy and excitement. Paper streamers lay like soft echoes across the ground, and the scent of cake still lingered faintly in the air. Mozzie was near the cake table, humming a Beethoven lullaby under his breath as he quietly gathered empty cups and deflated balloons.
Leo didn’t protest being lifted, just let out a soft sigh and leaned into his father’s shoulder, resting his head against Neal’s collarbone. His arms looped loosely around Neal’s neck as they walked inside, past the quiet clink of Mozzie tidying up behind them. The apartment glowed with soft light, warm and peaceful.
Neal set him down carefully on the bed and knelt to help him change into his pajamas—light blue cotton ones with cartoon clouds across the chest.
“Did you have a good birthday, baby?” Neal whispered as he brushed a curl out of Leo’s sleepy eyes.
“Best ever,” Leo mumbled, slowly crawling under the covers. Neal’s chest ached in the best way.
“I’m glad, bud. Go to sleep, okay? I love you.” Neal kissed Leo’s cheek and pulled the covers up to the little boy’s shoulders.
“L’v you, daddy.” Leo mumbled, barely able to talk as he started to fall asleep.
Mozzie looked up as Neal stepped back into the living room. “He asleep?”
“Out cold,” Neal said quietly. He looked around the apartment—still messy, but glowing in the afterlight of something right. “I think we pulled it off, Moz.”
Mozzie nodded. “It’s no Picasso swap, but I’d call this a masterpiece in its own right.”
Neal chuckled softly, sinking into a chair across from Mozzie. “Operation Birthday: flawlessly executed.”