Relieved Rina had showed up unharmed, he headed back to his table and settled himself into the uncomfortable seat. Though distracted, he tried to focus as she slid into the chair across from him. Her skin glistened from the humidity and her dark hair clung to her cheeks. She was no different from most rushed and overheated New Yorkers, yet her outfit distinguished her from the other mostly jean-wearing patrons of the café. All elegance, she appeared out of place in the casual atmosphere, but Rina being Rina, she failed to notice.

“I know I’m late. But Norton hates the heat,” she said, talking about her Chinese sharpei. He was all wrinkles with a black tongue, a dog no self-respecting person would take out in public, but Jake had developed a soft spot for the pedigreed pooch.

He shook his head and laughed. “Money really has changed you, Ri.” They’d grown up with a half-breed mutt that had wandered through the dirt and grime of the South Bronx. The dog had taken a nap one day by the front of their building and had stayed.

When Rina, a legal secretary, had met and married her boss, Jake had had his doubts about the man and the marriage. Who wouldn’t question a guy who had his fingernails polished weekly? But he’d turned out to be the best thing ever to happen to his kid sister. But then he’d died, leaving Rina alone. She was too young to be a widow, but Jake found comfort in knowing she’d had happiness for a little while.

A union of opposites had worked well for Rina, but not for Jake. His marriage had ended in a bitter divorce because his wife hadn’t realized that marrying a cop meant living on a cop’s salary and adjusting to erratic hours. His wife hadn’t just given up being married to a cop; she’d given up on Jake. And, after five years, it still hurt. Not because he still loved his wife but because he thought he’d given that kind of life his best shot. Still, Rina’s marriage had flourished, and for that Jake was grateful.