WORLD’S WORST NEIGHBOR:
I’d be honored
Honored? My tummy swoops so low and hard that I have to brace against the counter to keep from slumping against it.
WORLD’S WORST NEIGHBOR:
A visit means a lot. It’s hard being away.
MEG:
Even though you love your job?
WORLD’S WORSTNEIGHBOR:
It’s only a job. It sure as hell doesn’t miss me when I’m not here
MEG:
So I just show up?
WORLD’S WORST NEIGHBOR:
The best time is dinner. A little notice is helpful.
MEG:
Do I bring something?
WORLD’S WORST NEIGHBOR:
Not necessary, but if you want to win over my crew, bring ice cream
I laugh. I’ve never been inside a fire station. The idea of being a guest in one, surrounded by all that male energy, sends a thrill zipping beneath my skin. Plus I’d get to see Linden in uniform. I fan my face.
My phone rings. I pounce. It’s Linden.
“Hi.” It comes out breathy and fast. I can barely contain the fluttery high ramping up inside me.
“Hi,” he replies. Though I can’t see his face, I can hear the smile in his tone. “What are you up to today?
“Breakfast date with my dad.”
“That’s great,” he says, his tone warm and caring. “Are you going to talk about Darienne and the party?
I pour coffee into my favorite mug. “I don’t want to hurt him.”
“Don’t you think he’d want to know what’s going on? How you feel?”
“He’s been alone for a long time.”
“Doesn’t make it okay.”
He’s right. “How would you react if Greta shared something like that with you?”
“Honored,” he replies. “If she can’t stand up to me, someone who loves her unconditionally until I take my last breath, then whocanshe stand up to?”
“Okay, superdad,” I say with a scoff.
