My mom had a very neutral expression on her face. “And he’s unattached?” “I don’t know, actually. He strikes me as the kind of person who has a very liberal interpretation of that word. Why do you ask?” “Look outside your window.” I got up and snuck to the window, trying not to wake Bern. Brilliant red carnations filled the parking lot. Some bright red, some dark, almost purple, they rose from planters—hundreds, no, probably thousands, illuminated by small red lights thrust between the planters, blending together into one giant beautiful carnation flower. I closed my mouth with a click. “They
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