Twelve Months Later, Ethan Came Back With a Sleeping Newborn and a Broken Suitcase
“She likes the green one,” he said.
“Spits out the yellow.”
I wanted to ask how he knew, but he had been the one feeding her for a month, the one getting up at two and at four.
“There’s a bottle in the bag,” I said.
“She ate at eight.
If she fusses, there’s a spare nipple in the side pocket.”
He said it like a fact from a chart.
His jaw worked once, then settled.
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