But let’s not get ahead of ourselves.
The coffee shop is alive with its usual 5 PM crowd. I settle into the lengthy line, quietly scanning the menu above the counter for anything new, but I know I’m just going to tell them my usual once I get up there.
“Hey, Robbie.”
I glance over my shoulder and find Clive Snow, Nora’s Dom extraordinaire, standing behind me. “Oh, hey, Clive. What’s up?” I say, giving him a head nod. “You on your way in to work?” I ask, knowing he works security for the kink club next door.
“No,” he says. “I mean, yeah. I’ve got a shift soon, but I came in looking for you, actually.”
I raise my hands in defense as we step forward with the line. “Hey, if this is about that time you heard me call Melanie a homely sea witch; that’s just how we talk to each other. Always have.”
He chuckles. “Yeah, I know. Nora filled me in about... that. No, I wanted to ask you about something. Still Melanie-related, but...”
“Okay,” I say, lowering my guard. “Let me order real quick. You want anything? My treat.”
We reach the counter and Clive looks at the smiling barista. “Uh, small black coffee, please,” he says.
I nod and slap my debit card on the counter. “Vanilla macchiato. Largest you got. Iced. Lots of whipped creme. And sprinkle on a bit of that pumpkin spice.” I point a finger at her. “Don’t lie to me. I know you’ve still got it back there.”
She grins. “Coming right up, Rob.”
I wink. “Thanks, Doris.”
Clive’s brow pinches with amusement.
“It tastes nice, man,” I say.
He nods, saying nothing more.
Once we have our coffees, I gesture across the shop toward the nearest empty booth and we head over before someone else can claim it.
I slide into the right side and plant my back against the wall. “So, what did you want to talk about?” I ask Clive before sipping my drink.
Clive sits down, looking stiff and nervous as he stares at his lid. “How...” He hesitates. “Okay, you and Melanie.”
“Melanie and me.”
“You were married.”
“We were.”
“Okay, so… how long after you met her did you know that you wanted to be with her forever?” he asks. “In theory, I mean.”
I snort. “About sixty seconds.”
His head tilts. “Really?”
“Really.”
“But... how? What made you know for sure?”
I raise my drink and take a long, drawn-out sip as I study his face. “You want to propose to Nora, don’t you?” I ask.
He pauses, the answer written all over his handsome mug. “It’s crossed my mind,” he says.
“Of course it has,” I say. “Nora’s amazing.”
“She is, yeah.”
“Honestly, the better question is, why wouldn’t you chain that girl down?” I smirk. “If you two haven’t tried chains yet already.”
He laughs. “It seems too soon.”
I point at myself. “Sixty seconds.”
“Okay...” He shifts forward an inch. “How did you know that?”
I take a moment as I think back to that first night with Melanie Rose. “We clicked,” I answer. “The attraction was there the moment I knew she was there.”
His brow furrows. “What do you mean knew she was there?”
“Well, I couldn’t see her,” I explain. “But I could see the aftermath of her.”
He squints, needing more.
I smile. “Mel and I met speed-dating.”
“Speed-dating? You mean the thing with the one-minute dates?”
“Yes.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope.” I take a quick sip from my coffee. “I was there with some buddies from... whatever crap job I had at the time. She was there doing research for a book. Soulmates in Sixty Seconds. You read it?”
“No,” he answers.
“You should. It’s great. Anyway, they shuffled all the guys into this room with all these booths set up all in a row. After a few rounds, I noticed that every single guy leaving booth number seven had this look on his face like he’d just had his balls ripped off with a bone saw.”
Clive subconsciously shifts.
“Already, my curiosity was piqued. I thought, what horrific travesty could possibly be sitting at booth number seven? I don’t even remember saying a word to booths four, five, and six. I just had to get over to seven.”
“And it was her?”
“I sat down...” my chest flutters, “and there she was. Melanie Rose, man. I still remember the outfit she wore, what her hair looked like, what color nail polish she had on. The whole package.”
Clive shrugs. “So, what’d you do?”
“I took her home with me. We spent the next three solid days... well, you know. Come to think of it, that’s how I lost that crap job I had, but it was worth it.”
He smiles. “So, when did you get married?”
“Nora hasn’t told you?”
“Nora’s way too clever,” he says. “I grill her about marriage — any marriage — and she’s going to figure out why.”
“Smart.” I take another sip. “Well, at that point, we were inseparable. We got along great. We had the same goals, same outlook on the future. The sex was fantastic. Her friends liked me. Her parents loved me. It was smooth sailing for about six months, or so I thought. Turns out a perpetually unemployed alcoholic with no car doesn’t live up to dating material standards.”
“Then, why did she marry you?”
“Same reason any woman marries the wrong guy. Because she thought he’d change for her. It’s not like I didn’t try. I did, but I loved that bottle just a little more.” I bite my lip. “I asked her to marry me on our one year dating anniversary.”
Clive nods slowly. “That’s romantic.”
“Oh, sure is. And I’m sure Melanie still remembers it that way, but...” I breathe a laugh, feeling pathetic. “She was gonna leave me. I could tell she was one second away from kicking me out and slamming that door for good, so I said the first desperate thing that came to
