“It has something to do with rising air, right?” I tug on the belt loop of her jeans. “I’m really proud of you. I’m sure it wasn’t easy to come down here and talk about what you found, but I’m so glad you did.”
“You also noticed the shift. That guy over in Tampa did too. I can’t take all the credit.” Her shoe bumps mine. “Still no official track change?”
“Not yet. I hope you’re ready for the attention this is going to bring you, Quinny baby. The NWS is going to be knocking on your door tomorrow morning and begging you to come work for them.”
“I don’t know about that. You haven’t heard anything about the job, have you?”
“No. I would tell you if I did. I’m guessing the final decision is going to be delayed given everything that’s happening.”
“That’s true. We have bigger things to worry about.” She rolls her shoulders back. “How is this going to work?”
“We’re going to interrupt regularly scheduled programming, then we’ll do live reporting for six to seven minutes. It’s going to be an information dump, but if you get uncomfortable, give me a signal. I’ll find a way to ease you out of the conversation so you can take a breather.”
“I remember the summer I applied for an internship here.” She levels me with a look. “Someone else got the job instead.”
“Guilty.” I give her a sheepish grin and dig through the duffel bag I brought with me to the station until I find what I’m looking for. I pull the baseball hat out and slide it on my head. “There we go. Now I’m ready for my close-up.”
“I didn’t realize the dress code was so casual.” Quincy looks at my hat. Her eyes trace over the tiny letters above the brim,The Rainy Day Showwritten in cursive. “Wait a minute. Is that merchandise from my show?”
“It is. And really nice quality. I had Mia buy it from your shop, then I stole it. I wear it all the time.”
“All the time,” she repeats. Her forehead wrinkles. Cute little lines form around her mouth, and I want to press my thumb toeach one. To the freckles across her nose too. Fourteen of my favorite things. “What do you mean you wear it all the time?”
“Do you remember when we were in your bed and you were telling me about your family? I should’ve told you about my deepest, darkest secret.” I tap the bill of the hat. “It’s this.”
“Your secret is that you have an affinity for accessories?”
“No.” I roll my lips together, a grin nearly bursting free. “It’s that I’ve watched your show for seven years, and I’m a big fan.”
“What?”
“Yup. Haven’t missed an episode either.”
“How is that possible? You’re popular.”
“Thanks, Monroe.”
“What I mean is, you have a job. You travel for work. When do you have time to watch me ramble for an hour about cloud formations when your calendar is probably packed to the brim?”
“I make time.” I twirl her hair around my fingers. “I’m on-air at night. The days I need to be the in the studio in the morning or on location I’ll watch when I’m free, but I’ve seen every single one.”
“Why would you—I thought … we always argued growing up. You constantly picked fights with me,” she whispers. “I thought that meant you didn’t like me. That maybe you hated me.”
“Why would you ever think I hated you?” I ask. “Have you annoyed me? Of course. Did I think you were a know-it-all? Endlessly, before I realized why you were so determined to be the best in our class. But hate? No. Never that.”
“I had no idea.” Quincy gapes at me. “You’ve really watched my show for seven years?”
“Yes.”
“Every single episode?” she asks, a hand over her heart.
“Every single one.”
“Why?”
Her question makes me chuckle, the answer so simple.
Why do you think, Quinny baby? Because I’m fucking obsessed with you, and I’m so fucking proud of you.
