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“My neighbor is loud,” she said quickly. She had to come up with something to tell him.
“What?” he asked in a low voice.
She sat up. “My neighbor. He’s a jerk. Always partying at night.”
“You call the cops?”
“No, of course not.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Why would you say of course not? You had problems with the cops?”
“Me? No.” And that was the truth. “Just not necessary. It seems mean to call the police because of a bit of noise. I just have to work up the gumption to go upstairs and tell him to turn it down.”
And she would. Maybe Tuesday next year.
Yep, that sounded as good a time as any.
“You’re not doing that.”
“E-excuse me?”
“You know this neighbor well?”
“Um, not really. He’s lived above me for about three months. A guy in his early twenties. He likes to party. He also argues a lot with his sometimes-girlfriend. I don’t really get it.”
“Get what?”
“Why would you stay with someone you really didn’t like? I mean . . . they don’t just argue, they get really, really mean.”
“Baby,” he said in a soft voice.
She stared at him in surprise even as a warm glow filled her. Baby? He’d called her baby. No one had ever called her baby. And they definitely hadn’t called her baby while staring at her with gentle eyes.
“You called me baby,” she whispered.
“Sure did.”
“You really shouldn’t.”
“That so?” Now he looked amused. Sometimes, it was difficult to keep up with his changing moods.
She really wondered if he should get someone to take a look at his head for him. Split personality was no laughing matter.
“I lost you, Spitfire?”
“Um, how can you lose me when I’m right here?” she asked.
“You’d be surprised,” he muttered.
She would? What was he talking about?
“Now that I have you, I need you to listen to me. You listening?”
“Um, yes. I believe so.”
“No.”
She stared at him for a long moment. “No, what?”
