Page 263 of Time Stops With You

Even so, being this close to her fills me with incredible relief.

“Itwasyou,” Nardi accuses.

“I—”

She flings herself into my arms, sobbing uncontrollably. “Tell me I’m not dreaming. Tell me this is real. Tell meyou’rereal.”

My heart rearranges and I slide my hands over her back, tugging her close. “You’re not dreaming. I’m here, Nardi.”

Hot tears plop against my shoulder as Nardi buries her head in my neck. She’s squeezing so tight that I can’t suck in a single breath. But I don’t care. I press her into me, running my hand down her hair.

Having her in my arms again is more than I could have asked for. It’s more than I deserve. Even now, I still have doubts that revealing myself is the right thing to do. But I couldn’t walk away again.

Nardi eases back and looks up at me, heavy tears still trembling on her lashes. “Why… how…” She shakes her head. “I have so many questions.”

“I’ll tell you everything,” I whisper, brushing away a tear with my knuckle. “Let’s find somewhere to sit down.”

I draw back, but Nardi hugs me again fiercely. In that moment, without her saying a word, I can feel how difficult this was for her. It breaks me to think of what she’s been through.

I hug her back.

Just then, some workers step out of the back of a building. They glance at us, whispering among themselves as they light up cigarettes.

I tap Nardi’s shoulder. “Sweetheart.”

“Not letting go,” Nardi says, pasting herself to me.

I laugh when she nuzzles my chest with her cheek.

For months, I’d been conflicted about my decision to show up in front of her. But, now that she’s actually in my arms, a sense of rightness pumps through my heart.

“We should find somewhere private to talk,” I insist, not wanting to inhale second-hand smoke.

Nardi nods.

I interlock our fingers and lead her to the cross-walk. She presses tightly against me and it almost feels like we’re competing in a three-legged race with how hard it is to move while stuck together.

I don’t complain though. I wouldn’t want a single inch of distance between us.

At the park, I lead her to the bench farthest away from the crowds. I expect Nardi to sit beside me, but she falls into my lap instead and pulls her legs up, curling against me like a cat. I smile and trace a line down her back with my fingers.

The sun is beginning to fade, but it still streaks a brilliant orange-red across the sky. Already, a fingernail-sized sliver of the moon is peeking out.

“Don’t get too comfortable just because I’m clinging to you,” Nardi says, interrupting the silence. “I’m stillpissedoff about you pretending to be dead for six months.”

“I wasn’t pretending.”

“You didn’t call. You didn’t text. Do you know how many nights I cried myself to sleep? I literally got dehydrated and had to get an IV drip.” She lifts her hand, showing off her wrist as evidence.

Guilt lashes into me and I grip her tighter. “I’m sorry.”

“Why didn’t you come to me?”

“I didn’t know if I’d make it.”

“What do you mean?” Her expression softens. “Where were you?”

“I checked into the best treatment center in the country.”

---