The Girl He Used to Know (Page 12)

* * *

I’m swamped at work, so when I call Annika the next day to confirm, I tell her I’ll have to come straight from the office. She says she’s working late, too, so she asks me to pick her up at the library and says she’ll be ready by seven. That’s an early night for me, but I can get away with it because I’ll be on a plane long before the sun comes up tomorrow.

She’s having a conversation with a man when I arrive, presumably a coworker because they’re both wearing lanyards around their necks. Annika is gesturing excitedly with her hands, and she doesn’t seem at all like the shy girl I met in college and had to draw out of her shell. This man is someone she’s comfortable with. I can tell by how close he’s standing to her and the way she almost looks right at him when she’s talking. I wonder if this was the man she said was “too much like” her. She hasn’t spotted me yet, and it feels slightly voyeuristic to observe her like this, but I’m still learning about present-day Annika, and one thing I’ve noticed is that she seems more confident than she was back then. I guess that’s what ten years will do to a person.

She sees me and stops talking abruptly, walking toward me without saying good-bye to the man. He doesn’t seem to mind and ambles off in another direction.

“Hi,” I say.

“Hi.”

“Are you ready to go?”

“Yes. I just need to grab my things.” She walks off and doesn’t turn around to make sure I’m following, but of course I am.

In her office, I lean against her desk as she shuts off her computer and gathers her things. A stocky, unattractive woman with frizzy black hair stomps into the room. “Did you leave your cart in the reference section, Annika? Someone abandoned theirs and it’s blocking the row.” She stops talking when she realizes there’s someone else in the room.

“No,” Annika says. “Mine is back where it belongs.”

The woman studies me and smooths her hair. “Hi. I’m Audrey. Annika’s superior.” She thrusts out her hand and her chest.

“She’s not my superior,” Annika says. “I don’t report to her.”

Audrey gives an embarrassed smile with a touch of irritation carefully hidden underneath.

But I notice it.

“Jonathan.” I shake her hand quickly.

Audrey shoots Annika a pointed look. “So that’s who you were leaving the message for the other day, Annika.” She turns back to me, coy. “And you are…”

That’s not really any of your business. “Annika’s college boyfriend.”

Audrey’s eyes get big.

I look at Annika, warmly. “I was her first love.”

“He was my first everything,” Annika says matter-of-factly.

“And now you’ve reconnected?” Audrey asks. She can barely contain her curiosity.

I smile cryptically. “Something like that.”

* * *

“I don’t like Audrey,” Annika says as we make our way toward the exit.

“I can’t say I blame you.”

“She isn’t very nice to me, and the more I try to stand up for myself, the worse it gets.”

It makes me sad that Annika still has to deal with this kind of crap after all these years, but I see it every day at my own workplace. The jockeying for power. Behavior more suitable to high school than the business world.

“Do you know how sometimes you think of the perfect rebuttal but by the time you come up with it, it’s hours later?” she asks.

“Sure.”

“That’s how it always is with me and Audrey.”

“I bet you can hold your own,” I say, but she shrugs and looks down at the ground.

We grab a cab outside the library. I’d asked Annika if she liked the food at Trattoria No. 10 and told her I’d booked a table. “But I can change it if you’d rather go someplace else.”

“I love the food there,” she’d said. “Especially the stuffed shells.”

“How was your day?” I ask once I’ve given the cab driver our destination.

“It was good. Busy. I spent most of the day weeding.”

“Weeding?”

“Our collections are like our gardens and we go through them looking for damaged or outdated books. I take my cart and pull off a big section to make sure the selection is something my patrons would like. I would never just leave my cart in the row,” she mutters.

It’s nice to see her so passionate about her job, and even more than that, so comfortable with me. Her demeanor has changed significantly, and for the better, since our coffee date. She’s not the only one who seems more relaxed, because Annika has always had that effect on me. Currently, there are very few people in my life I can be one hundred percent myself around, but she’s always been one of them. I don’t have to put on a show or try to impress her the way I did with Liz. It’s very liberating.

“How was your day?” she blurts a bit loudly and unexpectedly, as if she just realized she should ask and is trying to make up for it with urgency and enthusiasm. It startles me a little.

“Also busy.” I should still be at work, toiling away in my office until midnight so I can complain about it the next morning the way my peers will, for the sole purpose of making sure everyone knows how late we were there. The dog and pony show we all have starring roles in drives me insane, but choosing not to participate really isn’t an option.

The cab pulls up to the curb, and I pay and follow Annika into the restaurant.

The hostess greets us with an unusually big smile and an enthusiastic “Hello!” She comes around from behind the podium and walks toward Annika, arms outstretched. I tense for a second, because Annika doesn’t like it when strangers touch her, but she’s smiling and flapping her hands at the hostess. “Claire! Hi!” They hug.

“It’s so good to see you. It’s been a while.”

Annika nods her head. “I know. It has.”

“We have a reservation for two under the name Hoffman,” I say.

Claire checks my name off the list and leads us to a cozy table for two. “I’ll send Rita over with your drink,” she says to Annika.

Annika sits down, beams like a child at Claire. “I’ve been looking forward to it all day.”

“Still cherry?”

“Yep.”

I’m not entirely sure what Annika’s connection is to this woman, but I’m starting to formulate a few theories.

“For you, sir?” Claire asks.

“Gin and tonic, please.”

“Right away.” She squeezes Annika’s shoulder and heads back toward her podium.

“So,” I say. “Is that a friend of yours or did you forget to mention you’re a VIP-level customer here?” I use a joking tone.

Before she can answer me, a man dressed in chef’s clothing barrels toward our table. Annika lights up. “Nicholas!”

“Annika!” he says. “We weren’t sure you’d be back.”

“Well, I haven’t been since that night. But Jonathan asked me if I liked the food here and you know how much I enjoy the stuffed shells so…” She looks at him like, ta-da!

What is happening here?

“I don’t think he’s been back either.”

“I’m not surprised. He prefers Mexican food.”

“Well, I’m happy to see your beautiful face at one of my tables.” He glances at me and then back to Annika. She completely misses the cue, and after an awkward silence, I extend my hand and he shakes it. “Jonathan.”

“Nicholas.”

Rita, a middle-aged, kind-looking motherly type, arrives with our drinks. “Honey, you sure are a sight for sore eyes,” she says, and sets down our drinks. “I’m so happy to see you here again.”

“Hi, Rita,” Annika says, and takes a long pull on her straw. “This is where I discovered Italian sodas,” she says as Rita moves on to the next table. “They’re so good. I usually get the cherry, but lemon is my second favorite. Do you want a sip?”

“No thanks.” I take a rather large drink from my own glass. “Can you fill me in?”

At first she looks like she doesn’t understand what I’m asking, but then realization dawns on her face. “Oh! My ex-boyfriend and I made quite a scene the last time we ate here. Well, he did. He could be quite loud when he was annoyed. Janice called him high-strung. Well, she called him a lot of things, but that was the nicest.”

“Why didn’t you say something? We could have gone to a different restaurant.”

“You asked if I liked the food here, and I do. It’s probably my favorite menu in the entire city. I like that they don’t change it a lot, but if the owner ever takes one of my favorites away, Nicholas said he’d make it special. All I’d have to do is ask him.”

“You’re not bothered by what happened the last time you were here?”

“That wasn’t the restaurant’s fault.”

“So, you had a fight?” I gesture with my hands as if I’m actually trying to pull the story out of her.

“It started in the cab on the way over. Ryan—that was his name—wanted us to go on vacation with his best friend and the friend’s wife who I once overheard say I was weird, so I said I didn’t understand why she would want to go on vacation with us in the first place. And I had already told him I didn’t think I could go on a cruise because I get seasick easily.” I nod, because I know Annika has a delicate stomach.