“Oh, good.” John kicked the door closed behind them and then set the cat on the ground. “Well, this is Ruth. She’s a little...forward, so feel free to ignore her if she’s getting on your nerves.”

Ruth? He’d named his cat Ruth? For some reason, this information made helium rise inside of Mary. She wanted to laugh hysterically, hug John again, cry a little.

She needed to eat and crash out.

“Well,” he said again, stepping over Ruth carefully. “This is it.”

Mary finally took a look around, trying not to appear overeager to finally see John’s home. It was small. Just one room with a bed along the far wall and a kitchenette tucked in the opposite corner. There was a kitchen table and, under one window, a love seat with a coffee table in front.

Her first impressions were homey, clean, man-space. She immediately loved all the touches of Estrella around the apartment. There was a colorful, mismatched afghan she’d obviously crocheted for John. And a series of paintings along the wall, some of her earlier work that Mary had never seen before. The bottom half of one of his windows was covered over in a stained-glass windowpane that Estrella had obviously worked hard on. The overall effect was nice. It wasn’t a curated space by any means, but it wasn’t depressing either. It was neat and intentional. Very John. She liked it.

“So, uh, make yourself at home. Gah! Ruth!” He did a quick little dance step to avoid his cat.

She covered her mouth with one hand so he wouldn’t think she was laughing at him, even though she kind of was.

John’s phone dinged in his pocket, and as he set their food on the table and unwound himself from his messenger bag, he checked the text.

“Oh, good. My neighbors texted me back. I’m gonna run over there and get things squared away.”

What he was getting squared away, she had no idea. She was still standing on his front mat, taking in his apartment.

“Here,” he said, striding over and lifting her bag off her shoulder. He set it on the love seat. “I probably should have mentioned that I don’t have air-conditioning.”

She saw his look of chagrin for only a moment before he turned to the window in the kitchen and propped it open with a box fan, flicking it on. He strode to the window above the bed, put one knee in the middle of the comforter and did the same with another box fan.

“But it’s actually pretty comfortable at night with the airflow. You should be all right. Okay. Um. Bathroom’s there, let me just...” He strode to the bathroom and poked his head inside, obviously checking to make sure it was clean. He nodded his head. “Yeah. So. I’ll be right back.”