Page 127 of Time Stops With You

Still occupied with thoughts of Nardi, I walk away.

The receptionist calls me back. “Mr. Cullen?”

I turn to face her.

“Would it be okay if I asked Mr. Sullivan for a selfie the next time he comes in? Or would that be too unprofessional?”

I don’t know why she’s asking me for permission. Plenty of technicians asked for pictures with Dr. Ko today. The man is a legend.

“If you want.” I shrug.

She squeals. “Yes! Thank you. Oh, I can’t believe Richard Sullivan was here.” Her eyes widen and she shakes her head incredulously. “He’s so much hotter in person.”

Sullivan is hot? I don’t look at other men, so I wouldn’t know. But, based on my limited understanding of what women want, I wouldn’t assume it would be someone like Sullivan.

I take one step away, but my brain has uncovered a problem and I’m forced to turn back to seek out the answers.

The receptionist seems surprised by my return and shoots to her feet. “Mr. Cullen?”

“What exactly is so attractive about Sullivan?”

Her mouth falls open and she stares at me like I asked her to explain the Pythagorean Theory. “Um…”

“Is it his wealth?” My brain pulls on all the scenarios of young, beautiful women dating men for their wealth and status.

I can’t speak for other industries, but the tech industry is thriving with high school rejects who struck out with women all their lives, but suddenly scored someone out of their league after they sold their company.

“Yeah, I mean. That might be part of it.” She shrugs. “But it’s more than that, you know? There are rich guys I wouldn’t touch with a ten foot pole because they’re so shallow and self-absorbed. It’s a huge turn off.”

“Shallow and self-absorbed, huh?” I run my hand over my beanie. Didn’t Nardi call me a narcissist earlier?

“And he seems really classy and gentle, you know? Men think women are into guys who bark at them and order them around, but that just gives us the ick.”

Say it again.

Hate me, Nardi.

Don’t you ever forget who your hatred belongs to.

I rub the back of my neck. “What’s the ick?” I ask.

“It’s just a feeling. Like a turn off.” She flips her hair over her shoulder.

Was Nardi turned off? I didn’t sense that she was, but maybe I misread it because of my obsession with her.

“Anyway,” she smiles, “this is just a harmless little crush. Richard Sullivan gets photographed with his wife Yaya all... the…time. She’ssuperpretty and he looks one hundred percent into her. I wouldn’t stand a chance even if I tried.”

“Thanks.” I lift a hand because I couldn’t care less about her justifying her crush on Sullivan. But when I turn to go, my body tightens.

A striking pain suddenly lashes into my chest. It comes out of nowhere and leaves just as quickly.

At first, I assume it’s heartburn.

Then the lashing-hot pain strikes again.

“Ah.” I grimace.

Is it vertigo?

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