[Sera]
The doorbell buzzes at exactly 3:07 p.m., because Ryan's nothing if not punctual. I buzz him up, wiping flour from my hands on a dish towel. I've been wrestling with pie crust since noon, and it's winning. Lulu's in her high chair, smashing banana chunks into abstract art on the tray, her curls dusted with a rogue sprinkle of sugar.
I open the door, and there he is, in a faded college hoodie that's seen better days, hair shaggier than last time, clutching a stuffed bear that's comically oversized, like it could double as a beanbag chair.
"I know she's got a zoo's worth already," he says, thrusting it forward before I can greet him. "But this one's special edition. Collector's item."
"She's eleven months, Ryan. She thinks her toes are collector's items."
He grins, that easy, boy
