Page 213 of Time Stops With You

With a sigh, I walk over to the curtains, intending to put them back over the windows. But there’s a sticky note next to the pulley mechanism. This one, too, is Nardi’s hand writing.

Leave the curtains up, Cullen. Your house is so pretty, but it needs some more light.

Ps. I’ll be really sad if I come home later and they’re drawn.

I shake my head as another patient smile tugs at my lips. How many of these notes did she leave?

After refilling my water, I move carefully back to the office, my eyes peeled for more notes but there aren’t any that I can find.

Trying not to think about Nardi, I work in silence for the remainder of the afternoon until my call with Asad, Dr. Young, and Sullivan. We discuss the five year, ten year and twenty-five year plans for the company.

I debate mentioning selling Cullen Tech but decide against it. I still want more time to process the offer.

Around three pm, Nardi texts me.

NARDI: Have you eaten lunch yet?

ME: Have you decided to move home yet?

NARDI: I have a confession to make.

ME: What did you do, Nardi?

NARDI: I stole your birth certificate and driver’s license so I could register our marriage.

Stunned, I shoot out of my chair and rush to my bedroom. The bed is spread neatly and nothing looks out of place. However, I storm straight into the closet and to the safe where I keep my important documents.

My phone buzzes.

NARDI: Just kidding. Whether we have a ceremony or not doesn’t bother me as long as I can be with you.

I grit my teeth and call Nardi.

She answers on the first ring, “Hi, husband.”

“Where are you?”

“At work. Why? Do you miss me?”

“About as much as you miss your sprained wrist.”

She laughs. “Being sarcastic isn’t going to keep me away, Cullen.”

“What will?”

“I don’t know? Pest control?”

“You have a very bizarre sense of humor.”

“That’s true, and I normally don’t let anyone see it, but since you’re my husband and all?—”

“I let you stay for one night,” I warn her. “But I meant it when I said I’m no longer interested in you.”

“For a man who’s not interested, you had a nice ole time checking me out in your T-shirt,” she says, non-plussed.

I cough. “Go home and make up with your mother. Take it from me. You don’t know how much time you have left with her. Don’t spend that precious time fighting.”

“Trying to get rid of me, Cullen?”

---