Nigel practically catapulted himself from his first floor window, landing neatly as a physicist could on the grey pavement. He began to run, but as he reached his car he spared a thought for the one who loved him and looked up at her hotel window.
Had he seen her face that window, maybe he would have hesitated a little longer, but the revelation and the limited time pushed him into the wedding vehicle and drove him off at lightspeed to the place he first met Joan.
Jumping out he scanned the area for signs of life. Under the bridge was empty, and Nigel thought that maybe he had dreamed it all up.

Just as he had given up hope a bright light burst into the peripheral of his vision.
“Nigel?” came a voice so sweet and familar.
“Joan!” he cried, and ran to embrace his love. “Where have you been?”
“I have good news!”
“What?”
“You’re going to invent the time travelling machine!”
Nigel’s grin stretched from ear to ear. “And now we can be together?”

“No,” she said. “I’m married.”
“To who?”
“To you! … Just not yet.”