29. Anouk
Anouk
I’m still standing when the room breaks into motion.
Chairs scrape back. Low voices overlap. Someone laughs.
My hands tremble—not in a bad way, but in the ‘I just did that’ way.
I presented my data. I stuttered through it, no doubt, but I presented in front of an audience. I answered questions. Sometimes stumbling over my words, but I did it.
Once I’m done, Dot squeezes my arm. Pallavi gives me a thumbs-up, and Vijay looks like he might burst with vindication.
“Thank you, Anouk.” Luther’s eyes linger on me, and then he turns to Martin and his father. “Martin, Dad, do you have any other questions for us?”
“No questions, Luther. I am, however, looking forward to the implementation of this project now. Anouk, this is excellent work. Clear, rigorous, and—most importantly—defensible.” Martin Ericksen, the CEO of Novagene, grins with satisfaction, and I want to beat my chest and tell Erin, who isn’t there, “Take that, bitch.”
Jacob Grant, Luther’s father, doesn’t say anything right away. He studies me for a beat, the way people do when they’re recalibrating an opinion.
Then he smiles.
“Thank you for walking us through the logic.” He’s got what they call executive presence, what they say I don’t have. “You didn’t just present outcomes—you showed us how you thought. I echo Martin, you are very impressive.”
Heat rises into my face, my ears.
I know this feeling even though I don’t experience it often.
It’s pride. Actual, unfiltered pride.
It takes me a while to gather my things after everyone leaves, but before I can walk out of the meeting room, there’s a knock on the open door.
“Ah…M-mister G-Grant?”
“Jacob, please.” Luther’s father comes in and stands close to me, making me very nervous. “May I steal a moment of your time?”
My first instinct is to panic.
Why does he want to talk to me? What’s he going to say? He’s going to say something about Luther, isn’t he? That I’m not good enough for him or stay away from him…or have I watched way too many Hallmark romance movies with Finn?
“Y-yes.” I hug my laptop and files close to my chest.
His eyes are the same as Luther’s. Blue. They’re also kind. Still, I saw him in action at the meeting. He’s smart and asks tough questions.
“I wanted to tell you—personally—that what you did in here took courage. You owned your work, despite what my idiot son put you through.”
Idiot son?
“Th-thank you.” My voice wobbles.
He hesitates, then smiles again—warmer this time. “Hannah and I would love to have you over for dinner tonight at our place in Nob Hill.”
My brain stalls.
Dinner?
“H-hannah?”
“My wife. Luther’s mother. She thinks he’s been an idiot as well.”
What the fuck is going on?
“Dot will be there. Her husband, Neil, you know him, don’t you?”
Dumbfounded, I nod.
Yeah, I know Dot. I know Neil. I don’t know you or Hannah, Luther’s mother, who also thinks her son’s an idiot.
Maybe I’ve slipped into a parallel universe.
Or maybe I’m hallucinating. I’ve been worrying about that lately, and seriously, that’s more likely than the parallel universe theory, because as much as physicists enjoy flirting with spacetime loopholes, they’ll also tell you there’s no experimental data to back any of it up.
And no matter what Finn says, Star Trek is not grounded in scientific reality.
“Oh—I….” Have no answer, Mr. Grant. None at all.
“Ria, my daughter, she’s also looking very much forward to meeting you.”
I lick my lips. “D-does she th-think Luther is an idiot, too?”
The words slip out without my permission, and my eyes widen.
What the hell is wrong with me? I don’t even know this man, and I’m joking with him? I don’t do that. How did he make me feel so comfortable that I did?
He chuckles. “Ria is doing a PhD in organizational psychology, and trust me when I tell you, she ripped him a new one when he told us what happened.”
So, they all know and…yet they accept me?
I open my mouth again—still searching for a graceful refusal.
Then he adds, almost casually, “I’m going to be honest here, Anouk, my wife is very eager to get to know you.”
That gives me pause.
“W-why?” I ask before I can stop myself.
“Because, dear Anouk”—the corners of his lips twitch in amusement—“you are the first woman our son has fallen in love with.”
Definite hallucination. The doctors told me that PTSD doesn’t just have to give you a stutter; it can also throw in the occasional bonus feature, like imagining things that are absolutely not happening.
“Oh.” That’s about all I manage to say.
Jacob tucks his hands in his pockets and sighs deeply. He looks so much like Luther that my heart melts.
“She’ll be disappointed if you say no.” He tosses up his shoulders. “And, no pressure, but she’ll come looking for you and my wife—I love her—but she can be a bit of a drama queen.”
A surprised chuckle slides out of me.
“Will you come?” he asks.
How can I say no now? “Y-yes. Th-thank you.”
“Wonderful. Oh…and Luther mentioned your friend, Finn. Maybe he’d like to join as well?”
My heart warms at the idea that Luther has told his family about me, about us. He’s not hiding me away as I feared because of my stutter. Not just that, he’s told them all how he screwed up with me, and they’re on my side.
“I…I’ll ask him.”
He puts a hand on my shoulder and squeezes. “I look forward to getting to know you, Anouk.”
As he walks away, I lean against the wall for a second, breathing it all in.
Damn it! I’m going to forgive their idiot son, aren’t I?