Page 200 of Time Stops With You

WE ARE MOVING.

I freeze completely, staring at those words and hoping they’ll rearrange themselves to mean something else.

But no.

It’s right there in black and white.

Cullen’s leaving the apartment.

Stunned, I move slowly up the stairs, glad that the elevator isn’t ready quite yet. I need the time to sort through my emotions.

Why is Cullen moving out of our building? He told me he had three weeks. Did that timeline change?

Is he selling Cullen Tech?

The thought makes me wince. I didn’t sign the shares agreement, but there are plenty of other ways for him to gift Josiah with the company. Did he completely change his mind about making Josiah his legacy?

That doesn’t seem like him.

I open the door to my apartment and I’m instantly hit with the smell of homemade Belizean chicken soup. The spices that fill the air make my stomach growl. I run over to the stove and open the lid of the pot.

Yup.

It is chicken soup.

The fire hisses as the pot overflows and orange liquid splatters all over. Even in Belize, mom had a habit of overfilling the pot until it boiled over. I always thought that made the soup taste better.

“Oh, Nardi. You’re home,” mom says, walking into view. “Just in time. The soup is almost ready. Wash your hands and serve yourself.”

I eagerly take a seat.

“Did you get to Josiah okay?” I ask.

“Of course. Of course. I love how convenient it is to order a ride here. You can see exactly where your taximan is going on the little app.”

I smile at her enthusiasm.

“Josiah!” Mom calls.

My brother’s footsteps thunder toward us.

I scowl at him. “He never appears this fast when I call him for dinner.”

“That’s because mom’s food is better than yours,” Josiah mumbles.

I stick out my tongue.

He returns in kind.

Mom rolls her eyes. “Enough, you two. Josiah did you wash your hands?”

“Yeah.”

“Yes,ma’am,” mom scolds him.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Mom nods sharply. “I don’t believe you. Wash them again.”

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