Twelve Months Later, Ethan Came Back With a Sleeping Newborn and a Broken Suitcase

I looked at the certificate again.

The bride’s dress had a row of tiny buttons down the back.

“I need to call Marcus,” I said.

“Not from your phone.”

“Whose phone do you have?”

“None yet.”

The clock in the hall ticked past four.

I heard a car door out on Elm Street, then nothing.