Seven hours later, he emerged from the Brooklyn Supreme Court onto Jay Street, his messenger bag over his aching shoulder and his suit coat over one arm to keep it from getting wrinkled. It was that fleeting time of year in Brooklyn when there was very little difference between indoor and outdoor temperatures. The eight o’clock breeze kissed him through his cotton dress shirt. Welcome to the world, John.

Unfortunately, most of his world existed within the walls of the building behind him. These brief, warm-breezed, pre-sunset moments were simply the garnish at the edge of his plate. The real meat and potatoes lived inside the messenger bag slung across his hip. He strode purposefully toward the subway, ignoring the siren’s call of Shake Shack, and jogged down the dingy yellow-painted stairs to his train.

Forty minutes later, he emerged in his neighborhood, the sun already down and a deep regret lodged in his gut that he’d talked himself out of fast food. All he had waiting for him in his fridge were salad fixings and half of last night’s veggie stir-fry. Oh, joy.

John thought about calling his mother on the walk to his apartment but decided to wait until after he’d fortified himself with dinner.

He had just let himself into his third-floor apartment when a colorful blur snagged his attention. Actually, it was two colorful blurs. John’s mother, in a bright purple dress, her salt-and-pepper hair piled up on her head, stomped out from his kitchen, holding John’s cat, Ruth, who scrabbled and wheeled in Estrella’s arms, attempting to get away.

“Ma,” he said in surprise. “What are you doing here?”

She narrowed her eyes at him.

His stomach plummeted.

She’d found out what had happened on the date.

CHAPTER TWO

“KYLIE, GRAB THOSE two pink boxes from the storeroom, will you?” Mary called over her shoulder as she attempted to balance two armfuls of paper flowers she was about to place in the window of her homegoods shop. Mary had owned and operated Fresh on her own for almost five years now. And today was the day she got to put up her June window display, maybe her favorite of the entire year. She loved the chintz and glitz of the Christmas display as well, but in June she really let her flower flag fly. She let the colors clash and the fake greenery overfloweth. Mary loved the unabashed cheer of it.

“Can’t find them!” Kylie, her teenage part-time assistant, called from the back of the store.

“Maybe they’re purple boxes?” Mary shouted back. “They’re filled with the...you know...whatever you call those thingies.”