The idea arrived in the quiet after the tears had dried.

Elena was still in Marcus’s lap on the study couch, the thick heat of him from the reunion still inside her, the lower marks aching under his palms in the deep claimed way that already felt like the failed distance had never happened. Gray evening light filled the room. Neither of them had moved to turn on a lamp or unlock the door or return to any version of the careful house. The private frequency between them was fully restored and heavier for the attempt that had broken under it.

Elena’s voice came out rough and small against his...