The Girl He Used to Know(51)

“Does she always say what she means?” Nate asks after they’ve left the table.

I take a sip of my drink. “Always. What you see is what you get with her. If Annika likes you, she’ll let you know.” I laugh. “And she’ll also let you know if she doesn’t.”

“No games, no bullshit. I bet it’s nice. And you were right. She’s beautiful.”

“On the inside, too.” Even with her bluntness, I can’t imagine Annika ever saying an unkind word about anyone. She’s been on the receiving end of too much bullying and abuse to ever make someone feel bad on purpose.

“So, I guess she did want to rekindle.”

“We both did.” I’ll never tell Nate or Annika how close I came to shutting the door on giving us a second chance. It doesn’t matter now.

Sherry and Annika come back from the bathroom. Sherry takes a big drink of her wine and Annika mimics her, choking slightly.

“This wine is amazing and just what I needed after the day I had,” Sherry says.

“Me too,” Annika says with a sigh.

“This is my favorite Chardonnay, but sometimes I prefer a nice crisp sauvignon blanc. Then there are those times when nothing but a giant glass of Cabernet will do,” Sherry says. “What about you? Do you have any favorites?”

“It really doesn’t matter to me. I drank wine coolers in college, but no one orders those anymore.”

I pause with my own drink halfway to my lips as I wait for Sherry’s response.

“Yes! Oh, that brings back memories. I loved the watermelon ones.”

“I liked cherry. They turned my lips red,” Annika says.

“But they’re so sweet. I could never drink one now.”

“Oh, me neither,” Annika says a beat or two later, shuddering like she can’t imagine such a thing.

She is so adorable right now. Also, I’m pretty sure she would drink a cherry wine cooler right this minute if I set one down in front of her.

She and Sherry finish their wine and when the waitress asks if they’d like another, they both say yes.

“So, you must like books if you work at a library,” Sherry says.

“I like books more than I like most people,” Annika says.

Nate and Sherry stifle a polite laugh, but there’s nothing patronizing about their reaction. It really is nice to be with a woman who genuinely owns her choices. There were times when Liz’s behavior was as chameleon in nature as Annika’s, but in my ex-wife’s case, it was less about fitting in and more about manipulating her business opponent. It’s not fair of me to excuse one while vilifying the other, but I do it anyway.

Our dinner proceeds uneventfully. When we’re done eating, no one takes the waitress up on her offer of dessert, so Nate orders a third round of drinks for the table instead. Annika isn’t even done with her second. Her cheeks are flushed and she’s leaning back in her chair instead of the usual stiff posture she displays in social situations. Nate, Sherry, and I probably have what could be described as a solid buzz, but Annika’s size and low tolerance for alcohol has put her much closer to the intoxicated end of the spectrum. It’s the most I’ve seen her drink, ever, and when she finishes off the second glass she looks warily at the third.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to drink that,” I say to Annika, pointing at her glass.

“I don’t.” The blunt way she says it reminds me that I shouldn’t automatically assume she needs me to come to her rescue.

She may not have wanted any more wine, but what she’s already consumed is still working its way through her bloodstream. I ask Sherry some questions about her work, and she mentions a grant she’s hoping to gain approval for. “But I’m having trouble convincing my boss.”

“Never allow a person to tell you no who doesn’t have the power to say yes,” Annika says. In theory, yes, but in this case I’m pretty sure Sherry’s boss has the power to say both.

“What’s that?” Sherry says. She sounds hesitant, as if she’s not sure where this is going.

“It’s a quote from Eleanor Roosevelt,” Annika says. “Are you familiar with them?”

“I know a few,” Sherry says.

“My best friend bought me a book of them. ‘Do one thing every day that scares you’ is what got me through my twenties. ‘Do what you feel in your heart to be right—for you’ll be criticized anyway.’”

She had been doing so well, and it might have gone unnoticed if she’d only shared one or two of the quotes. But once Annika gets started on a topic that interests her, it’s hard for her to stop. She shares quote after quote, her cheeks pink from the wine and her enthusiasm about the subject matter. Annika talks with her hands, and her movements are becoming more pronounced by the second. Sherry and Nate are every bit as polite as they have been throughout dinner, but then Annika stops talking abruptly and the color on her cheeks deepens from excited to self-conscious as she realizes she’s let down her guard and gone totally off script.

No one knows what to say, including me.

While I’m still trying to decide the best way to handle this, Sherry leans toward Annika and squeezes her hand. “It’s okay, I’ve got a nephew who’s a lot like you.”

For possibly the first time in our lives, Annika and I share the exact same shocked expression. Hers soon gives way to mortifying embarrassment, and she gets up from the table and rushes from the dining room.