Page 173 of Time Stops With You

Because I’m dying. Soon. And there are more important matters to attend to.

Rather than answer, I change the subject. “I’m really curious. For someone who believes in angels, what went through your head when you ran out of the room? Was it a ‘he’s going to die anyway so saving him doesn’t matter’ situation?”

Nardi’s eyelashes bounce furiously and she stammers, “I-I thought I apologized for that.”

“You did, but now that I’m calmer, it’s starting to set in that you not only ran away. You alsopushedme to save yourself. I really want to understand what went behind that decision,” I tease.

“I plead the fifth,” Nardi declares, staring out the window.

Chuckling, I lift her hand to my lips and kiss her knuckles. I kiss her ring finger next, aching for a chance to put a ring there.

“Nardi,” I say, rubbing my thumb along the back of her hand. The paleness of my thumb is a contrast to her rich chocolate skin. It fascinates and delights me to see it. “Nardi.”

“I’m not here. I’m putting myself in time-out.”

“I was just kidding.”

“I know but,” she laughs sheepishly, “it was a cowardly thing to do. I always considered myself to be a decent person but… I guess your true nature comes out when you’re looking death in the face.”

We drive in silence for a bit.

Finally, I hear Nardi’s quiet voice from the passenger seat. “Cullen.”

“Mm?”

“I think the person you’ve become in the face of death is admirable.”

I’m surprised by the compliment and the gentleness with which she delivered it.

“And I’m going to make up for leaving you behind in the haunted house.”

I flick the indicator, getting closer to her apartment. “How are you going to do that?”

She pauses. “I give you permission to haunt me.”

My heart slams against my ribs and I look over at her in shock.

“Whether it’s as a ghost or an angel, you can haunt me, Cullen.”

I say nothing while I get a handle on the burning in my throat. Gently, I take Nardi’s hand and bring it up to my chest.

“Do you feel that?” I ask, a little choked up.

“Your heart is beating so fast.”

“I don’t have many heartbeats left, Nardi,” I admit, gravity in my tone.

Her pretty brown eyes collide with mine. Concern swirls in their depths.

You shouldn’t have ignored those chest pains.The doctor’s words float through my mind.

“But every beat of my heart…”

Even if you get surgery now, it won’t do you any good.

“Belongs to you.”

At this rate, you have three weeks left before you die.

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