“Are they? Are they really?” I wanted to believe him, but at the same time, I couldn’t quite imagine Raphael assimilating into a life with my friends and family, of him slipping into some jeans and a work shirt and going shooting in the woods with the guys. Not hunting — my father would never have stood for that — but his scruples didn’t prevent him from heading out with Paul and Lance every once in a while so they could indulge in some target practice with cans or bottles, or a bunch of rotten pumpkins once Halloween was over. Anyway, my father had integrated into Earth culture pretty well, but that had to be partly because he’d been pretending to be human for years before he hooked up with my mother. I didn’t know if Raphael was quite so…adaptable.
He didn’t let go of my fingers, but in
