Page 4 of Beauty and the Grease (Midlife Meet Cute #4)

Chase

We’re in Jenny’s truck—not the clown tow, but her personal truck. It’s a more Jenny-sized pickup in a standard gray instead of wacky orange. The truck is an older model, but it’s clean and well-cared for.

I can hardly believe she drives trucks at all. She used to drive a sedan. A white Jetta. We used to drive it all over the place together.

After grabbing my bags from the car and tossing them into the truck bed, she takes off like she knows where she’s going.

I grab my phone and tap the map app. “Let me look up the address.”

“Already got it. Kara texted it to me.”

Oh. “Thanks.”

“Did you book time at the spa, or is this trip all business?”

“Spa?”

“Didn’t you look at the website? Read a brochure? The place you’re going is swanky.”

As if I had time to look at those things.

Or go for a…whatever people did at spas.

I should be rehearsing what to say to my boss.

He thinks I’m a screw-up and not committed to the company.

He’s old school. Hates that I’m divorced.

I’d say I don’t care, but he’s commented more than once how my divorce diverts my focus off of client work.

Out the window, the gray sky tinges with an odd greenish glow. I glance to Jenny. It’s like I’m seeing straight back to nearly twenty years ago when we first met. She’s Perennial Jenny, unchanged, but somehow completely different. For as well as I knew her then, she’s a total mystery now.

And pretty. Just so pretty.

When she’d worked for the art gallery, I was struck by how her simple style and beauty stood out from the gallery owner and the high-end clients. She had a class and style all her own. A confidence money can’t buy. She came from humble roots, but you’d never know it seeing her shine in her element.

Back then, her element was art. Now…car parts? “Your shop looks great, by the way. I can see your stamp all over it.”

“You can?” She sounds surprised.

“Yeah. The artwork above the coffee station. Even if it isn’t yours, it’s your taste. The sign out front and your logo. It matches with the salon and the vintage thing going on.”

“Thanks.” She shifts in her seat.

I’ve made her uncomfortable. Welcome to today—everything is uncomfortable.

“When Annabelle signed on, things clicked,” she says.

“That’s when I ordered the new sign. When I hired Kara, she offered to take over the social media accounts, which brought us some attention outside of Derby.

I set up the accounts, but I can’t keep up with posting while I’m running everything else and taking shifts on the tow. ”

“Delegating is the key to running a good business.”

She cuts me a dirty look. “Thanks for the advice.”

Commenting on her leadership is not welcome. Got it. A low rumble sounds. “Was that—”

“Thunder. We’ll be fine. It’s only a twenty-minute drive to your retreat center.”

Suddenly, the time feels too short. I have twenty minutes to say whatever I have left to say to Jenny. Once she drops me off, we might never see each other again.

I don’t like that thought.

No, this is dumb. So what, we ran into each other? I’m surprised it took so long. Yeah, it’s uncomfortable, but we’re adults. We can handle it.

What I can’t shake is the uneasy sense in my gut. Unresolved thoughts and feelings I’ve stuffed down for years are poking their heads up. Like little gophers in the ground. Those little gophers that ruin a golf green. I do a lot of golfing with clients.

It’s pointless to talk about the past. Maybe it’s a good thing we’ve only got twenty more minutes together.

Light rain starts again and Jenny taps the wipers on. “So, uh. This retreat. Are you still in sales? What was it, B-4-B something with imports not exports?”

I snicker. “B2B sales—business to business sales. And yes.”

She gives me a playful look and my knees go to jelly. She used to tease me with made-up business jargon to get me to laugh. “Is it still miserable?”

A sigh escapes. “Yeah.” I debate telling her what’s on my mind, but I’m so used to bottling up what’s inside, I don’t. “This retreat is your nightmare. Full of corporate speak.”

“Oh, I bet.” She perks up. “Synergies and bandwidths.”

“Disrupting the system.”

“Customer touch points.”

“Alignment.”

“Let’s unpack that,” she says in a dopey voice.

I laugh. “Let’s drill down and use digital transformation as our North Star.”

She snorts. “What? No, don’t explain. I don’t want to know. How about this one: corporate right-sizing.”

My own laughter fades.

She looks my way. “Do they not say that anymore? I’m sure you’ve heard it. It’s just downsizing rephrased in a way to make the powers-that-be feel better about firing people.”

I’m all too familiar. It’s what’s about to happen to me unless I do something this weekend to prevent it. I angle forward to see out the front windshield. “The sky is looking pretty strange.”

It takes Jenny a beat to adjust to the new topic. “Definitely brewing a storm.”

On cue, the rain hits harder. Soon, it’s raining so fast and intense, the drops appear as a white wash across the window. Road visibility disappears. She slows and flicks on the hazard lights. “Well, this is a mess.” She doesn’t seem stressed at all.

The rain pelting the truck at all angles further turns my insides.

There’s so much I want to say to Jenny. To apologize for leaving the way I did.

At the time, I trusted my parents had my best interests in mind.

I blamed myself for getting swept up, for acting impulsively.

I knew my parents would never be cool with us getting married.

They’d already pestered me to move on from my “college relationship” to a “real relationship.” Conveniently, they had Lisa waiting in the wings. Lisa, who they introduced me to.

But Jenny…she made me so happy.

We were happy. She logged hours at the gallery and painted in her free time.

I worked my way through graduate school toward an MBA.

For fun, we’d get in the car and drive to a small town we’d never been to.

Sometimes a bust, but sometimes we’d find a great place to eat or an offbeat antiques shop.

Other times we hiked a trail. Little adventures, we’d called it.

I loved our little adventures. My family spent big money on resort trips and cruises.

My senior year of high school, we flew to France for spring break with a side trip to Portugal.

We toured beautiful cities and art, but somehow it didn’t compare to discovering a local craft fair in Novi, Michigan, where Jenny and I spent our cash on crocheted tissue box covers made from plastic and yarn.

Lisa made me throw those away when we moved in together.

Nothing was wrong with our lives back then except my need to please my parents. I thought I was strong enough to stand up to them when we eloped. I lasted two weeks.

Jenny angles to the side of the road, still with the hazards blinking. “Don’t worry, we’ll get you to your retreat. All those synergies are waiting to be synergized.”

I try to smile but what’s happening inside me is its own storm.

Seeing her stirs up emotions I haven’t felt in ages.

The closest I can think to my state right now is when Owen was born.

My first child. Seeing his red little face all scrunched up and screaming, the weight of fatherhood pressed in, but at the same time, intense joy shattered any doubts.

It’s the most I’ve ever felt at once. And while sitting in a truck in the rain with my first ex-wife isn’t the same as a child coming into the world, something about this moment feels important.

“I’m sorry,” I blurt, at the same time she asks, “Want a mint?”

I stare at her.

She stares back, holding a clear plastic box. She rattles it, causing the little mints to collide. “Don’t apologize for bad weather. It’s not your fault.”

I can tell she knows that’s not what I’m sorry for.