“I’d have to agree there,” I said. “But tell me, what’s the meaning behind Vladimir?”

“Vladimir is formed from two words: vladeti, which means rule, combined with miru, which means peace or world. The name literally means one who rules the world.”

“That’s pretty cool.”

“Every name has a meaning,” he said.

“Oh yeah? Then what’s mine?”

“Your name, Avery, is derived from the old French name Alfred,” he explained, stroking his chin with his thumb and forefinger. “Alfred breaks down into the Old English words of aelf, which means elf, and raed, which means counsel. Avery means ruler of the elves.”

“What the flying pigeon!” I shouted. “I’m going to strangle my parents.”

“It’s not that bad.” He laughed

“My middle name is Zosime, in case you didn’t know.”

“I know.” One corner of his lips tugged slightly upward. “Your parents chose your middle name to represent their hope for you. I think you’re just as lucky as Kris.”

“Uh-huh, so what’s my parents’ hope then?”

“Zosime means ‘likely to survive.’ Your parents must have hope for you to survive through any hard times in your life. Actually, I don’t think either of your names is that bad.”

“Okay, fine, the middle one is not that bad, but Avery’s meaning, seriously? How is being named after a silly creature with pointy ears not that bad?”

“Some names have worse meaning than yours. Like Portia.”

“How’s Portia a bad name?” I protested.

Vlad said, “Portia is a Latin name that was derived from the word porcus or porcius, which,”—he leaned forward and smirked—“you can probably guess means pig.”

“Okay,” I said between peals of laughter. “I’ve changed my mind. I’m not going to strangle my parents after all. But I will definitely be careful when naming my future child. They certainly won’t be Portia.”

Vlad watched me with an odd expression, his head tilted at the slightest of angles. “Maybe you should name them Oliver.”

“Why?”

Vlad looked pleased that I had asked. “Oliver comes from the Germanic name Alfihar, which breaks down into alf, meaning elf, and hari, meaning . . .” He trailed off as I saw a cheeky gleam in his smiling eyes.

“Meaning?” I refused to have an incomplete sentence.

“Meaning army. Elf army.” He finished the sentence without hurry, clearly trying to wind me up.

“Yes, very funny. Thanks for the suggestion,” I replied, sarcasm escaping my lips. “How do you know all this stuff, anyway?”

“When you grow up with Vladimir as your first name and Eneas as your middle name, you tend to do some research to reassure yourself that your name isn’t that bad.”

“Eneas?!” I laughed for a few seconds before abruptly pausing as I realized something. “But how’d you know about my name?”

He dropped his gaze to the white linen tablecloth, a slight pink warming his cheeks. “I looked it up.”