Page 57 of The Monster at the End of This Courtship

"A big one."

He rolled the shell over on its side and lost his grip on the opening, tumbling against the far side of the shell and bursting it open. He flopped out onto his back and looked up at us with a dazed grin.

"Big and clumsy," Tuft said. "Balthus."

I didn't recognize that one.

"Another tie knot?"

"The biggest."

We both could tell from the size of the third egg, and its reluctance to open, that our third baby would be smaller than both Windsor and Balthus or might need another day or two before they were ready. We'd heard it could happen, but neither Punky nor Grindl had experienced it.

Tuft tried to feed the egg more slick, but it didn't absorb.

"Do you think?—"

I didn't like Tuft's worried tone, so I interrupted before he finished his question. "They'll come out when they're ready," I reassured him. "Maybe they're a little diva who wants all the attention."

I wiped the excess slick off the egg, and they answered with a resounding crack up the side.

"See?"

Tuft laughed. "We're waiting to meet you, little diva."

There was another hard pound against the side of the shell, and it split down the middle, leaving our little beta with light brown hair and brown scales sitting in the middle. He had a pleased grin on his face.

Tuft patted him on the head. "Kelvin."

"The temperature measurement?"

"Another knot."

I should have known.

"I don't think we should tell anyone they're named after knots," Tuft whispered. "Right? Because they aren't all alphas?"

"Tie knots are genderless," I said.

"Except Trinity. That's our girl's name, for our next batch." Tuft held up fingers as he continued to name tie knots. "And Eldredge, and Pratt, and Murrell, and … nope. Not Prince Albert."

"Almost as bad as four-in-hand," the only tie knot name I knew.

Tuft put the final two pieces of shell into the cardboard box and turned to face me. "You're not mad?"

"At their names?" I thought we'd resolved that, but he still looked uncertain and vulnerable after watching our babies hatch. "They're adorable names for our children."

He shook his head. "You're … " he sighed. "Perfect."

I'd been called many things in my life, but perfect? Not even my adoptive parents thought that highly of me. Granted, it was their job to prepare me for the harsh world of Ignitas without letting me know what they were doing. With that added knowledge, I understood their high standards and hopes for me.

"We're perfect together," I reminded him. "Let's get these guys fed."

Our babies' first meals were messy. Windsor held back, cocking his head to either side as though waiting for crackers instead. When they didn't materialize out of thin air, he helped himself to the chicken and vegetables I'd snagged from the cafeteria.

Once the salad was gone, I gave in and handed each of our boys half a graham cracker. All three ate them the same way, nibbling at a corner until they could shove the entire thing in their mouths. Then, they scampered off to explore the living room.

"It's too soon for them to choose their rooms," Tuft whispered. "They can sleep with us, right?"

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