While Fox does, unable to help herself, Joy quickly sings three lines from the chorus of Stevie Wonder’s version of “Happy Birthday.” It’s her family’s tradition—she has to. Jazz hands and all.

Fox turns to Joy. “Is this the cake you were making earlier?”

“Mmhmm. Three-layer marble cake with buttercream frosting and raspberry ganache.” The cake itself turned out pretty okay. It slopes slightly to the right and the buttercream accidentally has a pinkish tint to it, but Joy has faith it’ll taste the way it’s supposed to. Not too sweet, but still flavorful with a good, moist texture.

“It was for me?” He says it with such surprising tenderness, it stuns Joy into silence.

What kind of birthdays were he and Summer used to that they didn’t even expect a cake?

“That’s why we went to the store earlier.” Summer hands him a knife. “I wanted to get you something and all the cakes were bad. Joy volunteered to make one instead. From scratch.”

That isn’t entirely true, but Joy lets it stand. Hey, if Summer wants to give her credit, she’s in no position to turn it down.

“Thank you.” Fox is practically bleeding sincerity. It’s truly a sight to behold. “Both of you.”

“En-joy.” She grins as Malcolm loudly deflates.

Birthday Cake Time isn’t on the agenda. He was being a good sport about the interlude, but Joy’s pun seems to have pushed him over the edge. The solid line between his eyebrows that only appears when he’s frustrated is out in full force. Did Summer not being the center of attention for five minutes really upset him that much?

Doesn’t he realize Joy incorporated yellow cake for him because it’s his favorite? When he eats it, will he notice how she held back on the sweetness for him too? That she chose tangy raspberries over ripe strawberries? This cake is for Fox, yes, but it’s also for Malcolm. From Joy to both of them.

“I’ll get some plates.” Malcolm, still slightly frowning, reaches behind him and opens the cabinets.

Maybe Fox is right. Maybe Malcolm really does take her and the things she does for him for granted.

Joy tries to shake the thoughts away, pasting a smile on her face. It’s not Malcolm’s moment. She isn’t going to let him ruin this. Not everything in her orbit needs to be about him all the time. She bumps into Fox with her shoulder, leaning into him. “Happy birthday.”

And then, Fox smiles at her—Joy almost doesn’t believe what she’s seeing. Even when he laughs, the low grumbling scoffs and reluctant chuckles she manages to pry out of him, he keeps a near perfect straight face.

And now he’s actually smiling.

At her.

And he has dimples.

Nighttime routine complete, Joy turns off the lights before getting into bed.