Page 33 of Filthy Little Midlife Fling

Remy’s brows draw together. “Right.”

“You think I’m crazy.”

“I never said that.”

“It was implied by your tone and that scowl on your face.”

He huffs, then rubs his forehead with his palm. “I used to think about my ex-wife running into me and Danny somewhere. The grocery store, maybe. The mall. The beach. I’d think about her face falling when she realized she’d made a mistake, and I thought it would make me feel good.”

“Did you run into her?”

“Yeah,” Remy says, a bitter smile curling his lips. “We ran into each other at a coffee shop. She was gracious, and I was rude. I felt like an asshole for weeks afterward.”

“I guess wanting to win is illogical,” I admit.

“Sometimes someone hurts you, and you want to hurt them back. It never helps.”

The waitress appears with our milkshakes, complete with whipped cream and maraschino cherry topping. I smile at her in thanks and take a sip. Delicious.

“I’m guessing you think I’m a terrible person now,” I say when we both have our attention on our drinks.

Remy’s knee presses against mine. “Not even a little bit.”

Gratitude is a budding flower in my heart. I give Remy a small smile, which widens when he pushes his milkshake toward me to taste.

I try it, see his arched eyebrows, and laugh. “The strawberry is better,” I admit.

His smile is victorious, and it sends a ball of glowing heat down to the pit of my stomach. And when our burgers come, he pushes a few fries onto my plate without me having to ask.

ELEVEN

REMY

When I’m just about done scrubbing the grease from my hands at the end of the day, the office door opens. Audrey’s head pokes through, her hair pulled back in a ponytail, her lips curled in a wide smile.

“Want to see your new office?” She slides through the door and closes it at her back so I can’t peek behind her.

“You’re done already?”

“It was just a tidy and reorganization job,” she says, waving a hand, “so I was limited in what I could really do. If it had been a full redesign with new furniture and everything, it would have a bigger impact and it would’ve taken longer.” She shifts on her feet and bites her lip, and I realize she’s nervous.

“I’m sure it’s perfect, Audrey.”

She huffs a breath. “Right. Okay. Ready?”

“Lead the way.”

She turns to open the door, then steps aside to let me through. I stop in the doorway, blinking.

Somehow, in two days, Audrey has completely transformed the space. The layout is different, with the desk facing the entrance to the garage. Now, when the door opens, it no longer hits the edge of the desk, and there’s room for an extra chair for customers to use while they wait. She’s changed the shelving on the wall to line the opposite side of the room, with clear labeled boxes denoting their various contents. There’s even a new hook on the wall with a shoe tray beneath it on the floor, which will be handy when it gets rainy come fall.

On the far wall hangs a photo of the garage from when it opened nearly forty years ago. I cross over to look at it, shaking my head. “Wow. Where did you find this?”

“It was stuffed at the bottom of a box under invoices from seventeen years ago,” she answers, smiling. “You like it?”

“This is unbelievable.” My fingers trail over the pristine desk. I open a drawer and smile when I spot an insert with perfect little dividers filled with various bits of stationery. Paperclips in one section, pens in another. “I love it.”

Audrey lets out a breath. “Good. I would’ve loved to paint the walls, but—”

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