“So why is that interesting?”
“Because Grace has red hair, and Zachary’s hair is black.”
“So?”
“Fionn means—” Søren paused and stared at the name tag again. His eyes seemed to lose focus a moment, as if he were remembering something.
“What?” she prompted.
Søren met Nora’s eyes.
“The name ‘Fionn’ means blond.”
Nora narrowed her eyes at Søren.
“Søren...that night you played with Grace, by any chance did you two—”
Before Nora could finish her question her phone started to emit the familiar strains of “Englishman in New York.”
“Hold that thought. It’s Zach. Booty call.”
Nora brought the phone to her ear.
“Zach, I hope you finally have my synonym for thrust, noun form. Otherwise, I’m hanging up on you.”
“Don’t hang up. I’m not calling to talk to you.”
“Are you calling to sing to me?”
“I need to talk to Søren, and I don’t have his number.”
“Why do you need Søren? Spiritual crisis?”
“Of a sort.”
Zach sounded serious, uncharacteristically serious. Usually their phone calls were full of nothing but fighting and flirting.
“What’s going on?” Nora asked. “You can tell me.”
“I will. But I need to talk to Søren first.”
“Is everything all right? You’re kind of scaring me here.”
Zach laughed on the other end, a warm, slightly sheepish laugh.
“It is all right, I promise. Just been putting off this conversation for a long time. Can I have Søren’s number?”
“No. But you can have Søren. He’s right here.”
Nora handed Søren the phone. He gave her a look and she only shrugged.
“Zachary?” Søren paused and listened intently. After a few seconds his eyes widened hugely.
Nora’s heart raced. Something was up. Something big. She prayed it was something good. He reached out and cupped her face with his slightly shaking hand.
Whatever it was she knew that it would change everything forever, although she couldn’t say why.
“What is it?” she mouthed at him, needing to know the answer, unable to wait another moment.
Søren laughed.