They hadn't told anyone the name yet.
Not because they were undecided — the name had been known for weeks, held privately in the specific luxury of something that was only theirs before the world had it. She'd described it to herself as that: a luxury. She'd had so few things this year that were only hers before they became everyone's.
Sunday dinner had changed the shape of the secret without ending it.
Now everyone knew there was a name being held.
Which meant — she understood this the morning after, standing at the kitchen window with her coffee — the name had approximately seventy-two hours before someone asked directly.
*Otto,* Solène said. *Forty-eight hours.*
"Otto," Nara said.
He texted at eight am Monday.
*Good morning! I'm not going to ask about the name.* A pause, the thr
