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

“I believe it.

This smells like Sunday.”

“Sunday and a Tuesday,” I said.

“I cook it slow.”

Richard laughed for both of us.

“She’s modest.

She could open a restaurant.”

I set the serving spoon down and moved the salt away from his elbow, the way I had for twenty-three years.