Before I can, Meyer picks my book back up, and I don’t say a word but lead us toward the front of the restaurant. Franny steps up, passing two large foam cups to me and hands a to-go bag to Meyer. “What’s this?” Meyer smiles, peeking inside. “That’s a half dozen cinnamon knots and they’re not to be shared with this one.” Franny slaps my chest. “Come back and see us, will you?” “I will,” she promises, thanking her again. “And don’t worry, I’m not sharing these with him. My friend’s coming over tonight for a movie and she’s a sucker for sweets. You just made her night and she doesn’t even know
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