I’m better, and I’d really like for it to be me. I’d make it really fucking good for you, Quinny baby.
I climb the stairs to Quincy’s front door, ahead of schedule, but I stop on the top step. The wood is starting to rot in the center and the nails are coming loose. I squat and tap the plank with my knuckles, not liking how it feels under my hand.
Popping to my feet, I don’t have a chance to knock before the front door swings open. Quincy leans against the doorframe, her hands in the pockets of her shorts that are a detriment to my health.
Her tank top doesn’t do me any favors either.
“Why are you on the ground?” she asks.
“Your top step sucks. If a branch lands on it during a storm, it’ll go straight through.”
“I’ve been meaning to get it replaced, but I keep putting it off.” She steps back, welcoming me inside. “It’s on the list.”
“I’ll fix it for you next week,” I say.
“You will?”
“Sure.” I shut the door behind me and untie my shoes, setting them against the wall next to a pair of her sneakers. “How’s your morning?”
“Not bad.” Quincy walks down the hall, motioning for me to follow behind her. It’s a feat to not stare at her ass, and I should be rewarded for my chivalry. “I have something to show you.”
“I love surprises.”
“Don’t get your hopes up. It’s a very feeble attempt to say thank you for what you did for me at our interview.” She steps into the kitchen and points at the counter, a Styrofoam to-go container sitting out. “You mentioned liking Bea’s Place on our drive to Waffle House, so I picked up an order of pancakes. Okay, it’s more like one of every pancake. I figured you’d have a few minutes to eat them before we got started, so I—”
“You bought some of my favorite food?”
“Well, yeah. Because you did something for me.”
“This is incredible.” I open the container and practically moan. “Wildly unnecessary but fucking incredible.”
“Here.” Her hip bumps mine when she reaches for a plate and hands it my way. A fork and knife are passed over next, and my mouth waters. “There’s plenty of syrup too.”
“Can’t wait to be on a sugar high when I talk about haboobs to all your followers.” I slice the stack of flapjacks into tiny pieces, stabbing them with my fork. “Want some? Or is there not enough ketchup for you?”
“I’m not a heathen. Ketchup doesn’t go on pancakes.” She steals my fork, sneaking a bite for herself. “Hell. Those are so good.”
“I dream about these when I’m in New York.” I shovel a large piece of blueberry pancake in my mouth. “Can we talk about the interview?”
“What do you want to talk about?”
“I probably know the answer to this, but I want to ask it anyway. Are you doing okay?”
“I’ve moved past it. Would it be rewarding to work at the NWS? Of course. But if it doesn’t happen, my life isn’t over. I spent last night figuring out the future of my show, and it has me excited. I’m going to expand my coverage outside of hurricane season with a trip to the Northeast for a blizzard or two. Out west for tornado season. I sent your friend Eli a message, and he told me his door is always open if I want to chase with him next spring. At the end of the day, I have a job that I love. That’s more than a lot of people can say.” She winces and looks my way. “Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I’m over here bragging and you’re—”
“Still unsure about what I’m going to do next, flying by the seat of my pants, and the subject of my own Reddit forum after telling off that asshole?” I grin. “Don’t apologize, Monroe. You’re lucky you have something you love to do, and you shouldn’t have to clamp down on your excitement because I’m around. Everything is going to turn out exactly like it should.”
“Can I ask you a question?” Quincy slides into the barstool to my left and points to the one on the right. I sit down, bringing the food with me like a raccoon hoarding a pile of trash.
“You know I’m an open book, Pres.”
“When did you decide you wanted a career in meteorology?” She takes my fork again, digging through the stack until she finds a sliver of chocolate chip. “Was there a light bulb moment where you knew it’s what you wanted to do?”
“Didyouhave a light bulb moment?”
“Yeah.” Quincy’s smile melts to nostalgic. “When I was seven, asevere storm came through town. There was hail. High winds and lightning that lit up the whole sky. Our power went out, and I sat in front of the window in our living room like I always did when it rained. There was something about that night, though.” An embarrassed laugh. A faint blush on her cheeks and the fork hovering in the air, caught in a daydream. “I was mesmerized. The next morning, I dragged my mom to the library and checked out every book on weather I could find. After that, it became an obsession.”
Her answer is better than mine, and I hesitate.
