The One Who Came Back
The rest of the meeting went surprisingly well.
Once we got past the awkwardness of realizing that the woman I’d met at the gym on Friday was now sitting across from me as a client, everything settled into business mode.
We went through the project requirements, timelines, budget and what the migration would involve. Susan knew what she wanted, which I appreciated. She wasn’t one of those clients who gives you a vague idea and expects you to somehow turn it into a finished business overnight.
She had a proper plan.
I took notes, answered what I could and marked down the things I’d need to take back to the team.
For the next hour, she was simply a client.
And I was simply her consultant.
Honestly, that was probably for the best.
When we finished, Susan closed her notebook.
“So, what’s the next step?”
“I’ll send you the proposal and project structure once we’ve finalized the internal costing. Then we can schedule another meeting to go through everything.”
She nodded.
“Perfect.”
I packed my things.
That was it.
No unnecessary lingering. No trying to turn a business meeting into another Friday night. Whatever chemistry we’d had at the gym was still there, but I wasn’t interested in creating a mess I would eventually have to clean up at work.
Then, just as we were about to leave, Susan looked at me.
“One more thing.”
I waited.
“My husband will also need to approve the final proposal.”
I paused for half a second.
“Sure. No problem.”
She explained that he was involved in the business and would want to review the final numbers before they committed to anything.
That was enough information for me.
The man I’d heard about on Friday wasn’t simply some husband who happened to be out of the country.
He was involved.
And now he was potentially going to be involved in my project too.
I smiled and nodded.
“Send me his details when you’re ready. We’ll include him in the next discussion.”
Simple.
Professional.
Done.
As we walked out, Susan gave me a small smile.
“So… Friday was fun.”
I looked at her.
“It was.”
She seemed to wait for something more.
I didn’t give her anything.
Not because I wasn’t tempted.
I was.
But there are some situations where even I know when to leave things alone.
Susan was attractive. She was interesting. We had chemistry.
She was also married, had children, was now my client, and had a husband who was going to be involved in the same project.
That was enough complications for one woman.
I had no interest in turning a good business opportunity into a personal disaster.
“Take care, Susan,” I said.
“You too, Max.”
And that was that.
Missed out on our Previous Episode? Catchup on my Previous Meeting Susan
At least, as far as I was concerned.
By Wednesday, the whole thing had almost disappeared from my mind.
Work had a way of doing that.
There was always another email, another call, another person asking whether something could be done “by end of day.”
My project with Susan had already moved into the normal workflow. The team was working on the proposal, I was checking requirements, and the client relationship had become exactly what it was supposed to be.
Professional.
No drama.
No unnecessary messages.
No chasing.
I liked it that way.
Besides, I had other things to think about.
Saturday was approaching.
And Saturday meant bikes.
I had been riding for long enough to know that sometimes the bike wasn’t really about getting somewhere.
It was about getting away from everything else.
The guys usually had plans for the weekend. A ride, a stop somewhere outside Nairobi, nyama choma, stories, arguments about whose bike was faster and the usual nonsense that came with putting a group of men and motorcycles together.
But Friday evening, just as I was about to leave the office, my phone buzzed.
Unknown Number.
I almost ignored it.
Then another message came.
You still ride?
I stared at the screen.
There was something familiar about the number.
Then another message appeared.
Or you’ve become too important for the rest of us?
I smiled.
I knew exactly who it was.
Vanessa.
I hadn’t heard from her in months.
Vanessa belonged to a different chapter of my life.
Before the current job.
Before the endless meetings.
Before I became so good at pretending I had my life organized.
We had met through the biking crowd.
She wasn’t one of those women who needed to be introduced to a group before she could fit in. Vanessa could walk into a room full of people she’d never met and leave knowing everyone’s business.
We had clicked quickly.
Too quickly, probably.
There had been a short period when we were seeing each other.
Nothing serious.
Nothing official.
Just two people enjoying each other’s company without asking too many questions.
It ended almost as casually as it started.
No fight.
No dramatic goodbye.
Life simply moved on.
I typed back.
Max: Still riding. Why?
Her reply came almost immediately.
Vanessa: I need a favour.
I laughed.
Of course.
Max: That sounds dangerous already.
Vanessa: My bike is acting up.
Max: And?
Vanessa: And I need someone who knows what he’s doing.
I looked at the message again.
Max: You have a mechanic.
Vanessa: I know.
Max: So why me?
There was a pause.
Then:
Vanessa: Because I asked you first.
I couldn’t help smiling.
That was Vanessa.
Straight to the point.
Saturday morning, I didn’t join the boys for the usual ride.
Instead, I found myself at a small motorcycle garage in Industrial Area.
Vanessa was already there.
Her bike was parked outside, looking perfectly healthy to anyone who didn’t know better.
She was standing beside it with her helmet hanging from one hand.
She spotted me and smiled.
“Look who finally showed up.”
“I almost didn’t.”
“Liar.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re curious.”
I looked at the bike.
“What’s wrong with it?”
She shrugged.
“It started making this strange noise.”
“What kind?”
She tried to imitate the sound.
It was terrible.
I laughed.
“That tells me absolutely nothing.”
“I knew you’d say that.”
She handed me the keys.
“That’s why you’re here.”
I walked around the bike, checked a few things and eventually called over the mechanic.
While he worked on it, Vanessa and I stood to the side, catching up.
It felt strange.
Not bad.
Just familiar.
There was a comfort between us that hadn’t completely disappeared despite the months apart.
She asked about work.
I asked about hers.
She teased me about getting serious.
I reminded her that she was the one who had called me because her bike was making funny noises.
“You haven’t changed,” she said.
“Neither have you.”
She smiled.
“That’s debatable.”
The mechanic eventually found the problem.
Nothing major.
A few adjustments, a replacement part and some patience.
While we waited, we grabbed coffee from a small place nearby.
It was the kind of Saturday morning that wasn’t planned but somehow felt better because of it.
Then Vanessa became quiet.
I noticed immediately.
“You’re unusually silent.”
She looked at me.
“Am I?”
“Yes.”
She stirred her coffee.
“I’ve been seeing someone.”
I leaned back.
“Okay.”
She looked at me as though she expected a different reaction.
“That’s all you’re going to say?”
“What do you want me to say?”
She smiled faintly.
“I don’t know.”
I laughed.
“So what’s the problem?”
She looked down at her cup for a moment.
Then back at me.
“He’s a good guy.”
That sentence usually means something is about to go wrong.
I waited.
Vanessa took a slow breath.
“I just don’t think I’m happy.”
I didn’t immediately respond.
For once, I wasn’t sure what the right thing to say was.
She looked at me, and there was something different in her expression now.
Not the playful Vanessa who had messaged me because her bike needed fixing.
Something more serious.
Something unfinished.
I opened my mouth to ask what she meant.
She stopped me.
“Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t ask yet.”
I smiled slightly.
“Now you’ve made me curious.”
“I know.”
She picked up her coffee.
And just like that, the conversation moved on.
But the question stayed with me.
Who was this guy?
And more importantly—
why had Vanessa come looking for me?