text: I arrive at Toronto's Union Station. I'm planning to take the PATH to the CN Tower. That's where she'll be. While her text from last night is cryptic, I know her well enough to know what she means. Her text is referencing the restaurant at the top of the CN Tower. I'm almost certain of it. That is where the best view in the city would be. She texted me again this morning saying to meet her at 6pm. I'm early. Yesterday she stole the jewels that I had gone to the Royal Ontario Museum to steal. She left four of them for me. I had to use clues she had texted me to find three of the gems. The fourth was waiting for me with the note telling me to meet her at the best view in the city tonight for a proper date. My jewel thief ex partner. I can't even call her my ex-girlfriend because we had never been on a real date. She left me three years ago without so much as a word. We had spent six months sleeping in the same bed. We had shared secrets about everything. Everything except our professions which, as it turns out, were the same. We're both thieves. When she left me, I had to deal with the police. They were after her. She'd almost gotten caught. I had to lay low for a long time after that so they wouldn't get suspicious. And we hadn't spoken since then until last night. I'll admit, I dressed up for our date tonight. I bought a new dress for this occasion. If tonight doesn't go well, there's a good chance I won't be able to look at it without thinking of her. The dress is floor length and green. It has a deep v neckline and no sleeves. It's a bit chilly to wear in winter, but it looks stunning. It might be even better than the red ballgown I wore to the gala at the ROM last night. My hair is up in a braided bun. I walk into Union Rail Station from the subway terminal then I walk up the stairs to the ground floor. I pass through the station and go up the escalator near the platform that leads to the train to the airport. I'm not going to the airport, though it would be easy enough to run away and leave her like she left me if I wanted revenge. I continue walking through the Metro Toronto Convention Centre and across the Skywalk. By then I'm right under the CN Tower. I walk into the main lobby and up to the reception desk. The place is full of people. The receptionist is wearing a nametag that says: Indigo, they/them. "Hi, my...um..." Can I call Isabelle my girlfriend if this is our first real date and we separated three years ago? I don't need to bore Indigo with the details. "My girlfriend, Isabelle Cartier made a reservation at the 360 for tonight at 6." They smile and say: "okay, my associate will walk you to the restaurant. I hope you have a good time!" I slip them a $15 tip and thank them. Their associate is a large person with short hair. Her nametag reveals that her name is Willow and her pronouns are she/her. She walks me to the elevator. We step into the elevator and up and up and up we go. As the ground gets smaller and smaller beneath my feet, I get dizzy. "How do you do this for a living?" I ask, feeling queasy. "Security?" Willow asks. I shake my head. "Oh! Going up and down all day? I love this stuff. It was either this or roller coaster testing but it turns out they use crash test dummies for that so here I am." She's got an easygoing smile on her face. She must be waiting for me to laugh with her. And I would if I wasn't so dizzy. I flash her a weak smile and she gives me a look of pity in response. I'm sure I'm not the first person to feel sick during the elevator ride and I'm sure I won't be the last. We arrive at the top. I tip Willow then pause for a little while to get my head to stop spinning. I walk up to the host's desk at the 360. "My girlfriend made a reservation for 6pm. Isabelle Cartier?" "Oh, yes, come in. Your table is ready." "Thank you." I tip the host when I arrive at my table. It's a window seat. And, because the restaurant revolves once every 72 minutes, it's a fantastic view of the city. I get settled. I'm early, so I'm waiting. I snap a few photos of the city with my phone. When the allure of photography wears off, I wait. And wait. And wait. A server asks me if I want to get a drink while I'm waiting. I ask them for water. When they bring it to me I take my sweet time drinking it. Anything to avoid having the server return to me while I'm alone. And then I wait. And wait. And I wait some more. I stare at my phone. I stare out the window. I try to find some distraction. As each moment passes I become more and more aware of how long I have been waiting. And when I see the view I saw when I sat down at the table, I realize she's late. Or I'm in the wrong place. But where else would she mean? What part of the city has a better view than the CN Tower? The server comes over to ask me if I want to order, but I tell them I'm still waiting for my date. They look at me with pity. I drink more water. I keep alternating between looking out the window and reading the newspaper on my phone. After the second revolution, I begin to wonder if she stood me up. Or if I'm in the wrong place. But I can't be in the wrong place because she made a reservation here. The staff at the CN Tower only let me in because of that reservation. The sun is setting over Lake Ontario. Where is she? It hurts thinking that she may have abandoned me again. It begins to rain. It makes the city disappear leaving only dim lights below me and a huge expanse of moonlit clouds beside me. The clouds move like a stormy sea. Thunder rumbles and lightning flashes below me. I hope Isabelle isn't caught in the storm. Unless she stood me up in which case she deserves it. As if in answer to my thought, Isabelle bursts into the room soaking wet mere moments later. She's wearing a silver cocktail dress. She must be freezing. She's holding a bouquet that looks a little drowned and sad. It must be windy out. And the waterlogged flowers suggest that it's pouring rain out there. It's a bouquet of red tulips and red carnations dotted with purple hyacinths. There are violets and forget-me-nots nestled in the other flowers. There are ferns around the outside of the bouquet to keep the flowers contained. The bouquet seems to be alive, too. The flowers have their roots wrapped up in a soaking wet cloth to keep them from drying out. I stand. She embraces me and doesn't let go until I do. I don't mind getting my dress wet. Not if it's her hugging me. Besides, she's here. She showed up. That's what matters. "I'm so sorry I'm late," she says. "I tried to get you flowers, but almost all the shops were closed... and then I remembered you like live ones better anyway and so I stole..." I kiss her before her story draws too much attention. Flower theft is still theft and the last thing I need is to have her run off if the cops show up. She brushes her fingers against my jaw and kisses back. When she pulls back, her eyes widen and she looks at her hands. They're caked in dirt. There's something on my face. Most likely mud. "Oh..." she says I smile. She hands me the flowers. "I'll be right back... I should probably go wash my hands." She kisses my cheek, then she walks away. I sniff the flowers. They're beautiful. I try to remember the flower language associated with these particular plants. Isabelle loves riddles and puzzles and ciphers. There must be a hidden meaning to them. I try to focus but she's back before I can decipher any message that might be hiding in the bouquet. She sits down. The server comes over. We're doing the three-course prix-fixe menu with wine pairings. "I'm so glad you came tonight," Isabelle says when the server has gone to get us our first drinks of the evening. I can't think of what to say. I'm even more flustered when she takes my hands in hers. Her hands are soft but strong. "I know I don't deserve a second chance. Not after leaving you alone to deal with the cops when they were onto me. And certainly not after three years of radio silence, but... you're here tonight. You actually came. Even after all that. Is there... is there a chance we could... you know... get back together?" If she had asked me that a year ago, the answer would have been no. Even if she had asked me last night before the ball... before I saw her right in front of me looking gorgeous... before I saw her holding the gems I had planned to steal, the answer would have been no. But seeing her again makes me unsure. "Maybe... not right away, of course, but... I'd like to keep seeing you." "Sorry it rained. It snowed all night yesterday. I thought we'd at least get to see the sunset. But still, this is the best view in the city." "All we can see are the clouds, but it's pretty with the moonlight..." She cups my face with a gentle hand and turns my head back to look at her. "No... not the clouds. The best view in the city is sitting right across from me."