Page 36 of Time Stops With You

“Hi, I’m Asad.” The other man shoots a hand out for me to shake.

I take his palm and find that he’s sweating profusely. As subtly as I can, I wipe my hand against my skirt when he releases me. “Nice to meet you.”

Asad’s eyes roam my face as if he’s never seen a woman before. It reminds me of Big T for some reason, although Asad’s gaze is not at all as ‘swaggy’ or as confident as the other man.

“Am I late? Am I late?” a new voice screeches.

A woman with wild curly hair, glasses askew and freckles all over her cheeks rushes up to us. She clutches a binder in one hand and a coffee in the other. The binder slips down to her thigh and she grips it with an elbow while saving the coffee. Bent over awkwardly, she offers the cup to Cullen.

“Mr. Cullen, oh my gosh. I never thought we’d actually meet in person. Here’s your coffee. I don’t know how you like it, so I just brought a decaf. Tell me if you don’t like it. I can run to the store and buy another.”

Cullen’s smile gets even tighter until his lips are a harsh line slashing over his face.

“Slow down, Sara. Breathe,” Dr. Young coaches.

“Sorry. I’m just nervous. I’ve always been his virtual assistant. There’s so much you can hide behind a screen that you can’t in real life. Like pajama bottoms.” She brushes her hand over a fitted blue skirt. “Anyway, real life and online are similar enough. It shouldn’t be that different working together, right?”

While the rest of his team seem lively and happy to be here, Ronan Cullen looks about ten seconds away from making a break for it.

His response is so peculiar that I want to stick around and hear more, but my phone rings.

It’s my work manager calling.

Oh shoot.

Unlike Ronan Cullen—I have bills, loans to repay, and work responsibilities. I’m way past the time I promised my manager I’d be back.

“It was nice meeting you all,” I say, encompassing the entire group with a polite nod.

“See you around, Ms. Davis.”

“Yeah, I hope to see you again,” Asad says, his stare as dewy as the moisture on the grass in the morning.

Cullen says nothing. Which doesn’t surprise me. He’s trying his best to remain engaged, but he looks absolutely drained just standing in the middle of the group with conversation flying all around him.

Because of the construction, onlookers are stopping to gawk.

But they’re not staring at the building.

Cullen’s team seems blissfully unaware of all the looks they’re getting. If I didn’t know better, I’d probably stare at them too or maybe ask if they took a wrong turn.

Stop being so judgemental, Nardi.

I leave the group behind, feeling a little overwhelmed. Halfway to my car, I hear footsteps following me. Cullen is hot on my heels, his face tinged red.

“Wait up. Let me walk you over,” Cullen offers.

I frown. “I’m kind of in a rush. I have to get back to work.”

“I won’t say anything. I just…” He glances over his shoulder.

It seems I’m not the only one feeling overwhelmed.

I should tell him to keep five hundred meters apart at all times, but I’ve always had a hard time ignoring people in need.

Besides there’s that pesky thought that Cullen might be the new owner of our apartment. But if he has the power to buy an entire building, then he’s basically a modern day king. Why would a mere conversation with his own teammates warrant a time out?

I can’t get a read on this man.

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