“She texted me,” Dave said. “Lily. Last night.”
Cloe looked up from the Saturday morning kitchen. It was four days before the wedding. The apartment was in the specific state of pre-event that was not chaos exactly but was the particular organised tension of people who had plans and were holding them carefully.
Dave was at the table with his cereal and his phone and the careful expression of someone who was reporting something significant but had not yet decided how significant to make it seem.
“What did she say,” Cloe said.
“She said she looked up orbital resonance because Jonah told her about the disagreement.” He ate a spoonful. “She said she thinks we’re both wrong and the real answer is more complicated than either position.”
Cloe sat down slowly.
“She found a third position,” s
