Chapter 3

Medora

"That's probably..." Yellow paused and scanned the driveway quickly. "Ohh... Clyde Miller is at the hospital," she said, her eyes fixed on a car.

"How do you know that?" I asked, my heart pounding all of a sudden.

"Look," she nudged her head towards a car.

It took me a while to notice that the plate number of a Cadillac was customized "Clyde Miller."

"Wow, is he like a prince or something?" I asked Yellow.

She laughed.

"No, his father...his family is very rich. Like billionaire type of rich," she explained. "Oh look, that's his mom," she added.

My eyes immediately shot up in that direction. Maybe I really want to see the woman who lets her son spend his whole day alone in a treehouse.

A blonde woman stepped in front of the bodyguards, talking with a doctor. She had light blonde hair and was dressed in a black coat, black heels, and a red purse that could probably buy me and everything I own. She tilted her head a little, giving me a glimpse of her side view -sculpted cheekbones, but she had shades on as well.

Clyde dressed in a navy sweater and black pants wheeled past his mom, a young boy trying to meet up with him. Probably his brother butbhe had dark hair. He turned around to face his mom while two of the bodyguards came to stand behind him.

In a swift movement, Clyde turns his head and his eyes meet mine. He didn't look away, neither did I. The staring was so intense it was like time froze.

He must have recognized me, the crazy redhead that took out her frustration on him. He broke eye contact and looked away.

“This is your chance to apologize to him,” Yellow pulled me out of my trail of thoughts.

“What? In front of his whole family? Hell no,” I refused and climbed into my car.

Just as I turned on the ignition, I realized we had to drive right past them. By the way, they are already standing close to their cars, Clyde's mom entering a Maybach while Clyde, the young girl and his bodyguard were trying to get him into the Cadillac adapted for wheelchair use.

As we passed, I couldn't help but glance back one last time. Up close, he looked stressed, his bushy beard and long, unkempt dirty blonde curls framing his face. His lashes were long and thick, casting shadows over his electric blue eyes. There was a weariness in his expression, a tiredness that spoke volumes-tired of life, perhaps-and that somehow scared me. It was as if I could see the weight of his struggles etched into his features, making me feel a pang of guilt and concern.

I spent the rest of my day at Yellow’s watching a movie, except that she watched alone, I slept most of the time. I was working on my sleeping schedule I promise. When I got home, the lights in Clyde's treehouse were on. I could hear soft sounds of the guitar coming from his window. I contemplated going to apologize but I decided against it and went to bed.

_________

Friday nights at the restaurant are typically lively and filled with customers, I mean Friday nights are meant for dates right? That's the day every couple in town chooses to give their partner a time of their life, but today it's strangely quiet with not a single customer in sight. This unusual calmness makes me wonder if something is going on.

Although, walking towards the kitchen, I could smell freshly cooked steak. Did Matt decide to use his restaurant to host some kind of family dinner?

“Yellow,” I put my purse aside as I entered the kitchen. I grabbed a hair net and carefully wore it over my slick bun. Not that any hair could fall off with the amount of gel I plastered on my hair.

“Hey, Love,” she grabbed my name tags and pinned it to my shirt. .

“What? There's not a single customer out there, what is going on?” I asked before waving to our one of a kind chef.

He winked back instead of waving because his hands were busy cutting up onions.

“Ohh someone booked the whole restaurant,” Yellow said, biting into an apple.

“That's so romantic, it must have cost a fortune,” I exclaimed.

“It's Clyde. Clyde's family are having dinner here.” she bit into her apple again.

My heart skipped a beat.

Ohh lord. Why do I have to be faced with the constant reminder of how much I failed at being a nice and reasonable human. Instead of freaking out, I took it as another chance for me to apologize so I wrote a note with no idea of how to give it to him.

A few minutes after 9 O'clock, I recognized the woman from the hospital the other day. Clyde's mom, she walked in wearing an expensive red dress, red lipstick, black Louboutins and a black purse. Her hair was slicked to the back in a low bun, she looked expensive. There was a man with her probably in his mid forties wearing a black tux. They paused just right by the table and he slid his arm around her waist.

She has started dating again? Good for her. A young girl with dark Shoulder-length hair walked In as well, busy with her phone. She ignored the adults and sat at the table still pressing her phone.

They all sat at the table while Yellow walked over to them with a notebook and a pen to take their order but Clyde wasn't here yet.

“Ohh lord,” I sighed, checking my back pocket to be sure my apology note to Clyde was still there.

A few minutes passed before Clyde wheeled in, his bodyguard behind him shutting a dripping umbrella. It's raining outside?

“Clyde!” The young girl with dark hair sprinted for her seat towards Clyde in her extremely high heels and literally threw herself on him. Clyde slowly brought his hands up and wrapped them around her.

He turned his head to the right and our eyes met. I was staring creepily at them. I should walk away I mentally told myself and left.