Page 6 of Beauty and the Grease (Midlife Meet Cute #4)

Chase

My body tenses, bracing for impact—two accidents in one day? What am I, cursed?—only the impact never comes. Jenny deftly steers to the shoulder, tires crunching against debris. We end up unscathed, now stopped on the side of the road.

Jenny’s breathing hard.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

“Yeah. Good. You?”

“I’m okay.” A huge tree branch angles across the road behind us. That branch could have fallen on the truck. We could have slammed right into it. But we didn’t. “Nice maneuvers.”

Jenny face kaleidoscopes between expressions too quick to name. She snickers. “Nice maneuvers?” She cackles. “Oh my gosh. What is happening right now?”

I find myself laughing too. Nice maneuvers. No wonder I haven’t dated since the divorce. “I only meant, you handled that well.”

She holds up an unsteady hand. “Well, I’m shaking, so I’m not exactly a pro here.”

“No, you’re a pro. You’re good at what you do. I watched you hook the tow to my car.”

She taps her nails against the steering wheel. The wind fills the silence.

“I never doubted you’d thrive.” My worst fear was that our break-up ruined her spirit, ruined her belief in love. But I never doubted she would succeed in whatever she set her mind to.

“I think—” An unmistakable sound cuts her off. “Is that a tornado siren?” Jenny sounds more irritated than worried.

“Sounds like it.” I’m worried. Very worried. What if Jenny gets hurt? I mean—us. What if more branches fall or something? I wish I could roll down the window to get some air in here, but it’s pouring.

Jenny checks the mirrors and gets back on the road. “Let’s just get to this place. We shouldn’t be out here in a tornado.”

Progress is slow going, but soon a sign comes into view noting the retreat center. The tornado siren provides a soundtrack for the drive onto the grounds. The shape of a building appears. Sleek lines and tons of windows, it’s low and covers a lot of space.

Lightning streaks across the sky above the treetops. A long peal of thunder follows.

Jenny rolls to a stop beneath the covered entrance and drop-off area. “Sir? Your destination awaits.”

I wish I could say I’m relieved but the siren won’t quit. “Leave the truck here and I’ll grab my stuff. Let’s go.”

“I’m not coming in.” She sounds almost disgusted at the suggestion. “I’ll wait it out in the truck.”

Visibility-destroying rain streaks down beyond the covered entrance. “It’s not safe.”

“What am I supposed to do? Get a foot massage?”

“Sure, I’ll get you one. Shut the truck off and come with me.”

She gapes at me. “Excuse me? Who do you think you are ordering me around? Did that ever work for you?”

“This—no, I’m not trying to argue.” With my door open, the siren wails louder, overlapping the thunder and wind and hard rain. “Look, the siren means there’s a tornado. It’s not a warning.”

“You’re explaining weather to me?” Her voice pitches higher.

This feels familiar. Not the weather, but her exasperation.

I flash back to all those years ago when I broke her heart.

I told her everything I believed about us and our lives was a lie, and I’d said as much to her sweet, loving face.

She melted down. But the worst part was when the yelling and pleading ended.

She grew quiet and folded into a ball on the couch and cried.

I got through it because I told myself ending our marriage was the right thing to do. I’d been impulsive and reckless, behaviors I’d been steered away from my whole life. Moving on to a parental-approved relationship made sense and quelled their anger.

“Jenny,” I speak softer now, despite my heart crashing in my ears. How do I tell her I care about her without saying it out loud? Forget it. “I care about you…and your safety. Please come with me.”

A contemplative look passes and she nods, opening her side of the truck. I grab my suitcase from the truck bed (it’s soaked) and roll it through the front doors. Thankfully, Jenny is a step behind.

A woman wearing a retreat center name badge approaches us in the lobby.

“Welcome. Due to the tornado warning, we’re having all guests report to the storm shelter.

Please follow the man over there.” She points to a tall, surfer-type with shaggy, sun-washed hair, waving for people to pass through a door. “I’ll take your bag.”

We move past the spa which is locked down. Jenny slows, looking through the glass.

“You’re thinking about a foot massage, aren’t you?”

Her lips press together. “Sure, maybe. It’s probably expensive from the looks of this place.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll cover the cost.”

She makes a stink face so funny I laugh.

“What? It’s the least I can do for having you drive me all the way out here. In a tornado. And for picking my sorry self up off the side of the road.”

“I billed you for the tow and you’re paying parts and labor on the Audi. You don’t owe me anything.”

But I do. I owe her so much.

“Chase!” a familiar voice calls over.

I lift my chin in greeting at Ben, my work buddy.

Ben joins us in line toward the storm shelter. “Great way to kick off the weekend, huh? Looks like you made it by the skin of your teeth.” His gaze moves to Jenny.

“This is Jenny, my…” I don’t know how to finish that sentence.

“I drove him,” she fills in. “His car’s in my shop.”

“What happened to your car?” Ben asks as we file behind other guests. “Did you get in an accident?”

The incident replays in my head. “I’m fine. Hit a pothole.” I don’t remember details for some reason. I don’t even know how long I sat in the car after calling insurance for roadside assistance. It’s a blur, and then the orange beast appeared. And Jenny.

“Hey, man, you sure you’re alright?” Ben looks between me and Jenny. “Has he been acting strange?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Jenny grumbles.

I’m between Jenny and Ben, and pretty sure Ben didn’t hear her above the chatter from the crowd.

“The worst that happened was coffee dumping on my lap.” That’s a lie. The worst is this entire day. And now I’m heading into an enclosed space during a weather crisis with my coworkers and unknown-to-them ex-wife when I should be saving my job and basically my existence.

We end up descending to a no-frills lower level.

People are herded to the farthest corners of a storage area to make room for everyone.

There must be multiple retreats going on, because women in soft yoga type clothes huddle in one area, while familiar faces in business casual fill the rest. My boss and my boss’ boss stand out from the crowd. Yoga never seemed so appealing.

Two more coworkers join us, chattering away. I can’t seem to hear them, it’s all noise. Am I okay? My head isn’t in pain, but I’m not fine. My thoughts are scattered and I’m worried I upset Jenny.

Ben leans toward me. “Heads up, big boss on your six.”

I turn like an idiot as Linda, one of the executives, approaches, followed by Cliff, the stodgy VP I report to. They’re both wearing blazers with jeans, as casual as either of them get.

“Decided to finally show up, I see,” Cliff barks.

Linda lightly touches Cliff’s sleeve. “Welcome, Chase.” She’s classy and put together with eyes of steel that kindness never quite reaches. “You brought a guest. Hello, I’m Linda, Chief Financial Officer.”

“Jenny—Jennifer Dixon.” She shakes Linda’s outstretched hand. “Technically, I’m a CFO myself.”

Linda’s eyes widen a fraction with interest. “Oh?”

“And I’m VP of Sales and Marketing… I own my own business, back in Derby.” She beams.

“Derby? I’m not familiar.”

“It’s a small town about fifteen miles from here. As for today, I’m here for the spa.”

Linda’s smile is impenetrable. I can’t tell if Jenny’s won her over or she’s just that good at small talk.

Maybe both. “The hot stone massage is incredible—my pick if you haven’t settled on a service.

” Linda looks to me. “So nice that you brought someone to the retreat. We’ll have to get Jennifer together with the other spouses and significant others. ”

“Oh, actually, she’s—” but Linda has moved on, now talking to Ben.

“Sorry,” I half-mouth, half-speak to Jenny.

She shrugs. “Once the weather clears, I’ll take off. You can tell them I booked myself the entire weekend at the spa. Less explaining overall.”

Linda and Cliff check in on another group, leaving Ben and several other coworkers, who immediately focus on Jenny. “What company do you run?” Angelina, a sales associate ten years my junior, asks.

“A repair shop with roadside assistance company.”

Angelina smiles, but judgment shoulders its way past the pleasant expression. “Oh, how interesting.” Thankfully, she moves on. “And how did you meet Chase?”

No, not thankfully. This this is not good. Not good. We don’t have a plan for this. Who ever thought we’d need a plan for this?

“We met our last year of college,” Jenny answers. Which is the truth.

“You two reconnected recently, then?” Ben asks.

“Yes,” we both say at once. At least we’re on the same page there.

“Good to see you’re moving on.” Ben gives me a look both proud and pitying. He’s the one guy I’m close enough with at work who knows how hard it’s been the past few years.

I don’t let any other coworkers in on my personal life. Even with Ben, we’re sort of at arm’s length. This company devours weakness or exploits it. Any performance less than 110% is handled passive-aggressively. More like plain aggressively.

Linda, for as smiling and polite as she appeared, is a shark beneath a navy-blue blazer. Don’t get me started on Cliff.

Jenny drifts to the yoga women and seems to hit it off. Not sure if she sensed I needed breathing room or she’s tired of me. Doesn’t matter. She didn’t sign up for this.

I check my phone only to find more angry messages from Lisa on how I’ve ruined her weekend.

Then, an update: Lisa’s sister is taking the kids.

Which is great. They love their aunt and their cousins are close in age.

Hopefully, Owen and Emma won’t feel like they’re being cast off.

My goal is always to prevent the kids from experiencing any aftermath of our issues as parents.

But they always feel some element of aftermath. If I can minimize it, that’s at least something. Father of the year here, just looking to minimize damage.

My gaze lands on Jenny. Her smile lights up her face as she energetically chats with the yoga women.

I love how Jenny confidently told Linda she’s a CFO. Jenny knows who she is. She’s made a life for herself and has the drive to achieve what she wants.

My thoughts wander to what life would have been like had we never broken up. Had I never ended our life together. Would she be this confident? Or would I have ruined that too?