Chapter 1: “Time Is Everything in Marriage”
CLYDE’S POV
6:30 A.M. – Present Day
Gosh, it’s 6:30 already?
“Damn it,” I muttered, slamming a hand over the alarm clock. My eyes darted to the other side of the bed. Barbara was still curled under the sheets, barely awake.
“Why didn’t you wake me up, Babs?” I asked.
She didn’t respond, just groaned with her eyes half-shut.
I didn’t wait for her to say anything else. I jumped out of bed, flew into the bathroom, and was dressed and out in five minutes. Briefcase in hand, car keys jingling.
“Breakfast will be ready in five minutes!” she called out from the kitchen.
I heard her but I didn’t stop. I didn’t even turn back. I pulled out of the driveway and onto the road like I was escaping something.
And maybe I was. Maybe I felt bad for the way I snapped at her. But lately, she’s been so… slow. Lazy. Barely keeping up with anything.
At least that’s how it felt?
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Three Years Ago…
The first spark between two people is a lot like buying something new—something you don’t yet understand but suddenly can’t live without.
Barbara and I met in the oddest way imaginable.
Two years ago, during a business trip to San Francisco, I stayed a few extra days to unwind. One evening after work, I went for a walk. Halfway through, nature called urgently. I ducked into a nearby restroom. That’s when I saw her.
An African woman stood inside the men’s restroom, door slightly ajar, completely unaware she wasn’t alone.
Out of instinct or stupidity, I pulled out my phone, the camera’s shutter sound echoing louder than I expected.
She snapped out of her trance, eyes wide. She hadn’t even pulled up her underwear.
“What the hell?!” she yelled, rushing to cover herself.
“Relax,” I muttered. “It’s just a photo.”
She lost it. Threatened to kill me if I didn’t delete it. I told her I’d post it online.
The argument escalated fast. Looking back, I can’t explain why I was so irritated. And I blamed her for being in the wrong place.
Then someone else walked in. We both froze.
“Jeez… get a room,” the guy muttered before heading to a stall.
Barbara looked at me, and for a moment, something shifted that moment. I couldn’t place it. She stormed out, and I followed, forgetting why I even entered the restroom in the first place.
“Wait!” I called.
She kept walking, fast and pissed, heading toward a beat-up sedan parked under a flickering streetlight.
“Don’t you want your picture?” I yelled.
She stopped, half-turned. “Keep it. I don’t care.”
She climbed into the car. The engine sputtered as she tried to drive off, nearly hitting me.
“What the heck do you want?” she snapped, stepping out of the car.
“I don’t know,” I said, breathless. “I guess… I like you? I mean, maybe let me apologize properly. That whole thing was… stupid.”
She scoffed. “Okay. Apology accepted. Now get out of my way.”
I moved, torn between embarrassment and curiosity, and watched her drive off—feeling stupid, confused… and oddly hooked.
That was the beginning of us.
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