He had let himself in with the spare key I’d given him months earlier, after asking Elaine whether she thought it would feel like a betrayal.

She’d told him love was not a rationed resource.

“Did you bring the onions?” I asked.

“I brought onions and the good bread.”

We were making dinner to celebrate Wyatt’s new job offer at a logistics firm and Austin’s acceptance into a university program in environmental design.

Neither wanted a ceremony.

They wanted soup, bread, and a movie we could complain about together.

While we cooked, Austin asked whether I ever thought about the name Noah.