Page 54 of Time Stops With You

“That must have been worse. Adults at leasttryto hide their prejudice, but kids can be cruel.”

“Very true. But it all worked out. I learned and grew from it.” Sunny pauses. “It’s so weird, but I feel like I know you already, Nardi. By the way, is Nardi your real name?”

I chuckle. “It is. My mother chose it the moment she saw me. Or so the story goes.”

“Nardi.” My co-worker taps my shoulder.

I spin around.

“Are you coming to the cafeteria with us?”

I shake my head, gesturing for my co-worker to go ahead.

“Oh my.” Sunny stammers. “Am I interrupting something?”

“No, it’s fine. I’m on my lunch break.”

“Perfect! Have you eaten yet? If you’re comfortable, I can meet you somewhere near your workplace and we can discuss the details of the dinner over lunch.”

“I can meet you if it’s too much trouble,” I offer.

“I’m the one taking up your time, so I’ll come to you.”

“Sure.” I rattle off the name of a cafe nearby.

“That’s weird,” Sunny muses.

“What?”

“Nardi, you’re not going to believe this but, my husband, Darrel, is heading there to meet someone too. It must be fate.”

“I guess so.”

We make arrangements to meet shortly and I catch up on some work until it’s time to walk over to the café.

The bells on the door jangle over my head as I step inside. The restaurant is filled with office workers shoveling food into their faces before they’re dragged back to their desks. I realize there aren’t any free tables and I figure I’ll have to text Sunny to meet somewhere else.

At that moment, my eyes sweep over a familiar face.

Cullen?

He’s sitting at a table alone, his head bent down as he focuses on his phone. That ever-present beanie rests on his head and he’s wearing a simple T-shirt and jeans. For someone who can so easily buy an apartment building, he dresses in a very humble, unassuming fashion.

Cullen looks up at that moment and my heart jumps to my throat. I swing around, intending to crash through the doors and make a break for it.

A tall woman blocks me.

“Nardi!” Sunny Hastings’ bright, cheerful voice is ten times louder in person than over the phone.

She sashays inside, wearing a pressed white pantsuit, pearl earrings, and a wedding ring the size of a continent. Her long, straight black hair is glossy and tucked behind her ears.

Looking at Sunny, there’s no mistaking her Belizean heritage. She could be any of the Creole, black women I went to school with.

“I recognize you from your pictures online. I’m Sunny.” Sunny places a manicured finger against her chest.

“Yeah,” I answer hesitantly. “Nice to meet you. I’m Nardi.”

“Whoa, this place is packed.”

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