When I arrived in the food court, Nicholas was already there, sitting at our usual table. He must have been early; he had already bought our food. He smiled when he saw me. “I took the liberty of ordering the usual.”

“Thank you,” I said, sitting down. I took a bite of my salad. He wore a funny expression, and I guessed that he was waiting for me to comment on the flowers. I decided to play dumb.

Finally he said, “So did you get anything today?”

I looked at him blankly. “Anything? Like what?”

“A special delivery?”

“Hmm, I said. “A special delivery. Oh, you mean like a hundred and forty-four roses?”

He grinned. “That wasn’t too excessive, was it?”

“No. Just right. And once the delivery people return to get them, my apartment will look like a funeral parlor.”

He laughed. “We’re still on for tonight?”

“Yes.”

“The play starts at seven, so I’ll pick you up around six-thirty?”

“Okay,” I said.

“Then, if you’re not too tired, we’ll get some dinner after.”

“Sounds nice.”

“Anything in particular?”

“No. Surprise me.” Just going out to dinner was surprise enough.

It was snowing when I got home from work. As usual, my apartment was a mess, so I picked up the place or, at least, organized the chaos—throwing my clothes in a hamper and loading the dishwasher. I was about to freshen up for the play when the doorbell rang. He better not be early, I thought. He wasn’t. It was the florist. “I’ve got your flowers,” the man said.

I looked around my tiny apartment. “Bring them in.”

“Where do you want them?”

“Wherever they’ll fit,” I replied.

My apartment was on the second floor of the building, and it took the man fifteen minutes to bring all the roses in from his truck. By the time he finished, it was twenty-five after. I quickly changed into some more comfortable jeans and a sweater, brushed back my hair, then went to put on some perfume but couldn’t find any. Girl, you’ve got to get back with it.

I remembered that I had an unopened bottle of perfume in the bottom of my closet—a gift from the girls at the office for my birthday last spring. I tore open the package and was spraying it on when the doorbell rang. I looked at myself one more time in the mirror, then hurried out past the garden of flowers, grabbing my coat on the way.

I opened the door. Nicholas was standing there holding a bouquet of yellow gerbera daisies. I almost laughed when I saw them. “You’re kidding, right?”

“I wasn’t sure what else to bring you,” he said.

“Let me find something to put these in. Come on in.”

He laughed when he saw the flowers splayed out over my front room. “You almost need a machete to get through here.”

“Almost,” I said.