Page 30 of Beauty and the Grease
CHAPTER 15
Jenny
Back home, my Sunday is my sanctuary. PJs and retreat. Not retreat center retreat, but retreat to the blanket cave on my couch. I’m going all in on the fullPride and PrejudiceBBC miniseries.
I’m drained. Emotionally exhausted and a not a small bit horrified at how close I grew to feeling things for Chase all over again.
That dinner. It might have provided closure, but it was a mistake. Men in power exposing our secrets for their own amusement is not something I needed to witness. I know Chase is genuinely sorry. He didn’t want that nightmare for either of us.
I cried the whole drive home. I cried for emotional release and because I have unanswered questions. One thing I know. If Chase and I become something more, if we get together again, I’ll lose myself. I’ll lose the identity I’ve worked so hard to build.
I’ve come too far to give up all I’ve gained.
My phone explodes with texts. This must be what sixteen-year-olds experience daily. I hit silent on my phone, but turns out, I’m as addicted as Gina and can’t quit the siren call of the notification. Gina and Ameriel want the scoop—they heard about a dust-up at the corporate dinner.
Give me Darcy or give me death!I set the phone aside and slide in the first DVD.
As the Bennet family’s troubles unfold on screen, my thoughts wander to yesterday. Four little words pick the locks of my gated internal storage. Chase said them with passion and conviction. Those words unravel the tidy story I’ve told myself all these years, that our marriage was null and void.
Four little words I can’t unhear.She was my wife.
Monday at the shop, I’m on autopilot. The Audi’s parts are on order. Chase hasn’t called about the car. I refuse to let myself feel bad for not giving him a ride. Someone could have easily driven him home.
Business is slow. So slow I do what I’ve been putting off for weeks.
I open an email sent months ago from Simon, who provided my business grant. It’s a phone number and email for a part-time payroll service.
I’ve been too scared to call. What if I hire them and then business tanks and I can’t pay them?
But I just looked through the books. The money is there. It’s not realistic for me to work every day except for scheduled dentist appointments and mammograms. Taking this step means trusting the business won’t instantly fall apart if I outsource some of the work.
And even if it does fall apart, I’m still worthy of being loved, appreciated, respected. Right? I check the new sticky note on my desk.You are worthy of being loved. Okay. Got it.
I wander into the salon, empty of customers. Annabelle swivels in her chair in a lazy spin. “Want a haircut?”
I pause in front of the coffee station, looking at the painting above it. An abstract cityscape. Chase was wrong; this is one of mine. I painted it after he left. It’s technically good, but something is missing. Spirit, life, passion.
“I was married once,” I say.
Her chair slows to a stop. She stares at me.
“It was annulled. Do you know anyone whose marriage has been annulled?”
She shakes her head no.
“It’s surreal. It’s like you’re supposed to believe it never happened. But I have this.” I hand her a photo from my back pocket. I took it out of a storage box in my closet yesterday.
Annabelle scrambles like a cat with no traction wildly coming to all fours. “You.” She points at me. “You’re in this photo with him, the Audi—the hottie.” She sputters incoherently until finally she gets it out. “You two weremarried?”
“Or were we?Dun dun duunn.” My corny music doesn’t break through her shock.
“Jenny, this is so romantic.”
“Romantic? It’s tragic! Do you know what this weekend was like for me?”
“What happened? Did you kiss? Are you two back together?”
“What? No! Why would we be? Our marriage was canceled by his family. By him. It was voided out.”
