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“What do you think?” she asked.
“It’s beautiful. You’re going to have one happy kid.” Linley did a little dance and then bopped over to give me a hug.
“I’m sorry, I’m probably covered in frosting. Occupational hazard.”
“No big deal,” I said. “I’m used to it. In other news, tell me what’s going on with Gray.”
Linley smiled and let out a little giggle that I’d never heard her make.
“Well, we’ve been talking a lot. We’re going to have an official date this weekend. We figured out a place that’s almost exactly halfway between me and him and we’re going to dinner and then to the movies.” That sounded perfect.
“That is really cute, Lin. Like, really cute.”
Her face got red and she pretended to hide behind the counter. “I knowwwwww. We’re gross. But I really like him. He’s so sweet and funny and I think I have a major crush. Which probably means it’s too good to be true and I’m going to find out that one entire room in his house is full of ventriloquist dummies he thinks are real people, but it’s so good right now.”
I raised my eyebrows. “That seems like a really specific situation you’re referencing, is there something you should tell me?”
She shuddered. “Not me, but a story my mom told me about a guy she met before my dad. Her cousin set her up and she was like ‘never again’ after that, and a week later she met my dad at the DMV, so there you go. Happy endings for everyone. I’m sure that guy is still in his home surrounded by his friends.”
Picturing that was pure nightmare fuel.
“Have you asked Gray about his views on ventriloquist dummies?”
She washed her hands in the sink and then dried them. “I’m scared to.”
“It’s better to know sooner rather than later. That’s what I didn’t do with Wyatt and look at what happened to me. Learn from my mistakes.”
Linley gave me a hug. “You did ignore a lot of red flags, my friend.”
I sighed. “I know.”
* * *
My text messagestrategy was simple: send it while she was busy at her job so she’d be distracted and wouldn’t think too much about it. Of course, that might mean I had to wait for a response, but that was fine.
I waited until dinnertime, when I figured she’d probably be well into her evening shift at the bar.
Hey, what was that drink you made me called? I want to make one.
Totally casual, totally cool. I was seriously impressed with myself.
I waited a few seconds and then decided to put my phone away so I wasn’t constantly staring at it, but then she responded: A paloma. You need lime juice, grapefruit soda, tequila, and salt. Add a dash of fresh grapefruit juice to make it really pop. If you can’t find grapefruit soda, just mix some juice with seltzer water and a little simple syrup.
Wow, that was a lot of information. I was about to respond when she sent me a video.
My hand shook a little as I opened it.
“Hey, so here is how to make a paloma,” Esme said. She was clearly in the bar, and I wondered if Batman was holding her phone as she talked through the process of making the drink, including rimming the glass with a lime wedge and then dipping it in a dish of salt to coat it. She was so fast and she did everything in a way that showed me she’d done it a hundred times before so she didn’t even need to think about what she was doing. It must have been satisfying, making drinks. Knowing this alchemical process to take all these liquids and mix them in the same amounts every time to make something. My brain would not be able to remember all that.
Wow, thank you I sent after I’d watched the video five times. She didn’t have to do that.
You’re welcome. I figured I might as well show you, since I’m at the bar anyway.
There was a pause and then she sent another message. If you ever need any other drink advice, let me know.
I couldn’t help but feel like she was brushing me off. Probably because she was busy.
Yeah, sure. Thanks. Have a good rest of your night.
