Through the window an hour later, Sarah saw Miles coming around the corner with a long box under his arm. He paused for a moment, as if he were making sure he was in the right place, then opened the downstairs door and vanished inside. As she heard him climb the stairs, she smoothed the black ****tail dress she’d agonized over while deciding what to wear, then opened the door. “Hey there . . . am I late?”
Sarah smiled. “No, you’re right on time. I saw you coming up.”
Miles took a deep breath. “You look beautiful,” he said.
“Thank you.” She motioned toward the box. “Is that for me?”
He nodded as he handed her the box. Inside were six yellow roses.
“There’s one for every week you’ve been working with Jonah.”
“That’s sweet,” she said sincerely. “My mom will be impressed.”
“Your mom?”
She smiled. “I’ll tell you about her later. C’mon in while I find something to put these in.”
Miles stepped inside and took a quick glance around her apartment. It was charming—smaller than he thought it would be, but surprisingly homey, and most of the furniture blended well with the place. There was a comfortable-looking couch framed in wood, end tables with an almost fashionable fade to the stain, a nicked-up glider rocker in the corner beneath a lamp that looked a hundred years old—even the patchwork quilt thrown over the back of the chair looked like something from the last century.
In the kitchen, Sarah opened the cupboard above the sink, pushed aside a couple of bowls, and pulled down a small crystal vase, which she filled with water. “This is a nice place you’ve got,” he said.
