Page 224 of Time Stops With You

I give it a moment of contemplation. “I don’t know how much longer I have before…” I exhale shakily, “I might not be in control of when I disappear.” I inch her back a little. “Nardi, I don’t want to die in front of you. I haven’t changed my mind about that.”

She jerks as if the words pierced her skin but says bravely, “I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about you running away without telling me anything.”

“Okay.” I breathe out. “I promise when I feel like my time is coming and I need to leave, I’ll let you know.”

She wraps her arms around me. “Thank you, Cullen.”

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” I ask, running my hands down her back. I’m so relieved to have her in my arms again that I wonder how I survived pushing her away.

She intertwines our fingers and leads me to the couch. I sit first and she sits a few inches away from me. I want to drag her into my lap, but I know I won’t be able to concentrate if I do. So I just keep holding her hand for all I’m worth.

Nardi looks serious and thoughtful when she says, “I’ve considered this a lot, Cullen. I really tried to understand why you’re doing things this way, and I’ve come to this conclusion. Tell me if I’m wrong.”

I gesture for her to go ahead.

Her dark eyes turn wistful. “You’re making this choice because you want to be remembered for how you lived. Not for how you’re going to die. You want to leave on your terms. You want to leave with dignity.”

Every word from her lips squeezes my heart in a tight grip and I feel a knot of emotion in my throat.

Nardi rubs her thumb over my knuckles. “So many people don’t have the privilege of knowing when their time is up, so they waste it at jobs they hate, ignore the people they love, and keep putting off what they really want to do. Then one day, they’re gone and there’s no do-overs.”

“But because you know that your time is limited, you’re intentional about every goal, every dream, and every second of time. You’resointentional you’ve decided that it’s not worth it to endure the pain of another surgery or go through chemo again. For you, it’s not about the ending you get. It’s the fact that you have the choice to write your own ending that makes life beautiful.”

Emotions overtake me and, much to my embarrassment, I find myself leaking a tear or two. I turn away to hide the reaction from Nardi, but she’s got the eyes of a high optical zoom camera.

She gets out of the couch, stands in front of me and pulls me forward so my head is resting on her torso. I wrap my arms around her, thinking about how lucky I am to love and be loved.

Easing away, I gather my composure and rise unsteadily to my feet. “Go put up your suitcase. I’ll make breakfast.”

“Okay,” Nardi says with a smile.

I expect her to unpack in my room, so I’m surprised when I see her going upstairs instead. After all her flirty texts last night, I thought she’d waste no time staking her claim in the bedroom.

Feeling as if a hole in my chest has been filled, I fry bacon, scramble eggs and toast some bagels. By the time Nardi returns down the stairs, breakfast is served.

I offer her a plate and then turn my back to her so I can down a concoction of pills with a glass of water. When I face Nardi again, she’s watching me worriedly. “I saw all the medicine in your cupboard. Do you have to take them all?”

I nod and spear a crispy bacon. Though the food smells amazing, it tastes like dust on my tongue.

“I snooped a bit and noticed they all have some crazy side effects.” She pushes her food around in her plate. “Is there anything I should be aware of? In terms of what you can and can’t do?”

“As of right now, the worst side effect is not being able to taste bacon.” I shrug and smile comfortingly in her direction.

“I’m serious, Cullen.”

Walking over to the table, I explain, “I probably shouldn’t drive anymore and there are times that I feel nauseous and can’t keep food down, but it’s nothing to be concerned about.” Seeing that she’s still anxious, I take her hand in mine and say gently, “Nardi.”

She shakes her head as if she doesn’t want to hear it. “I know. I know. You don’t want me to worry or take care of you.”

“That’s not what I was going to say.”

She arches an eyebrow.

“We’ve known each other for a while.”

A little scrunch line appears in the center of her forehead.

“You’ve probably figured out by now that I’m not a people person.”

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