Chapter 5
Five
CULLEN
If you change too suddenly, you’re going to die. It’s an old saying pointing out how human beings never truly change.
Unless they’re facing the end, of course. That’s when they seek forgiveness, tie up loose ends, and make amends for past mistakes.
I don’t need or want forgiveness, but the Pilot-less Plane project is a loose end I refuse to leave dangling. That’s why I must mentor Josiah and set him up with the tools he’ll need to succeed in the future.
Marrying Nardi is simply an extra firewall to protect my mainframe.
And yet…
Something happened in that stairwell.
What exactly? I wouldn’t be able to describe. All I know is that my heart started beating faster, the air around me grew excruciatingly hot and her lips looked delectable.
Such ridiculous thoughts toward a woman have never entered my head before.
It’s a sure sign that I’m on my way out.
“Be quiet.” Nardi places a finger to her lips before opening the door of her apartment.
I tiptoe in behind her.
She gestures to the couch, makes another ‘sh’ motion and then moves down the hallway. She disappears into what I believe is Josiah’s room.
Left to my own devices, I do a quick survey of her apartment. The ceiling has several stains, evidence of a pipe leakage. The room itself is barely livable. If I stretch my arms, I would be able to touch the other wall within three steps.
While Nardi’s kitchen was impeccably kept, her living room shows a different level of care. The rug is worn and dust coats the fringes. The pillows have seen better days and her television stand? Yikes.
Rather than sit for a second time in a couch that hasn’t been vacuumed in years, I browse the mantle. There are several pictures of Josiah and an older woman who bears a startling resemblance to Nardi. Many of the pictures have a background of a sunny sky, plentiful coconut trees, and sandy beaches.
Based on the background check I ran, Nardi and Josiah are both from a Central American country called ‘Belize’. Their mother is still living in Belize while Nardi is taking care of her brother alone.
Bringing Josiah to live with Nardi was the right choice. With his potential, he’ll have more opportunities to hone his gift at a school here than in a small island nation.
A door in the distance opens and shuts. Soft footsteps patter toward me.
I turn just as Nardi appears again. “Why are you standing?”
“I…” Good etiquette probably requires that I keep my thoughts about her dirty couch to myself. I distract her instead. “Is this your mother?”
Nardi approaches the picture with a smile on her face. “Yes. They took this picture in Placencia. Mom hates boats because she never learned to swim. But a few years after I left Belize, they built a road to one of the most beautiful beaches in the country. Mom bought bus tickets and took Josiah over there the minute she could.”
“Have you been back to Belize?”
Nardi shakes her head. “At first, I couldn’t. Not until I got my papers sorted out. After, I just got so busy and the price of the tickets…” She shrugs.
I nod, fascinated. “It’s my first time meeting someone from Belize.”
“Yeah, I hear that a lot.” She laughs and, standing under the living room lights, her dark eyes sparkle.
I suck in a sharp breath as I watch her. Nardi’s beauty isn’t one I’d consider ‘quiet’. It’s piercing and ‘in your face’. Her lipstick, her dark eyes, her thick eyebrows—they command, demand attention.
There’s a reason the thuggish-looking man at the door had been trying, and failing, to ask her out.
But, when Nardi smiles, her beauty softens, melting like ice to become a sweet, gentle brook. Rather than unapproachable, she seems fairy-like and…
Holy crap. What am I thinking right now?
A low rumble rolls around the room and I check my pocket, wondering if my phone vibrated.
“That’s me.” Nardi sets a hand over her stomach sheepishly. “I haven’t eaten all day.”
“What about Josiah?”
“Josiah ate.”
“Is he sleeping already?” I ask, glancing past her to Josiah’s room. He must have heard our voices so it’s strange that he’s not coming out.
“Why do you want to know?” she says defensively.
I glance at Nardi. There’s mistrust in her eyes and she watches me intently, looking for… I don’t know. Some sign that I’m out to hurt her brother?
Seeing that expression sobers me and I realize she must have intentionally told Josiah to stay in his room. Nothing inside me flinches at the thought. I am, by all definitions, a stranger to them. Two days ago, I didn’t even know Nardi and Josiah existed.
I nod, choosing not to step over the boundaries she’s clearly setting.
“I can cook something,” I offer.
Her defensive stance drops. Her eyebrows twist and jump. “ You know how to cook?”
“Probably not as good as you, but...” I shrug.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea. Five seconds ago, you were passing out on the staircase.”
I correct her. “It was just a short moment of vertigo. I feel better now.”
“You were about to fall backwards, tumble down all those stairs and give yourself a concussion.”
I open my mouth to argue when I see Nardi fighting back a smile. She’s teasing me, I realize.
“Would you rather I stay out of your kitchen?” I ask dryly.
“Go right ahead. I was too tired to do anything but boil noodles anyway.”
I move past the dining room table with three chairs and enter the shoe box of a kitchen. There’s an apron waiting on a hook and I slip that over my head. Inside the refrigerator are tons of ingredients, all fresh and neatly stacked.
Despite not having the latest appliances or cabinets, Nardi Davis keeps an impeccable kitchen. I keep being impressed by her.
Pleased, I reach for a bright yellow lemon. “Any allergies, I should know about?”
“Nope. My stomach’s made of steel.”
I smile with my face hidden in the fridge and then face her with a frown. “No stomach is made of steel. You should always watch what you put in your body.”
“You haven’t even made the meal yet. At least let me see if you have any cooking chops before you lecture me.”
With a chuckle, I return to foraging in the fridge and take out a block of Parmesan cheese, tomatoes, and heavy cream. A moment of inspection passes and I pop my head up again.
“Do you have thyme and basil?”
“Oh yeah. I grow them myself,” she says proudly.
I give her an approving look. “You garden?”
“Nothing that fancy. I have a few pots where I grow vegetables to save on groceries. How much thyme and basil do you need?”
I rattle off an amount and she scurries away, returning seconds later with fresh leaves.
“Thanks.” I set them aside and snoop around her cupboard until I find a box of pasta. It’s not a brand that I’ve ever seen before, but it’ll do for now.
Nardi directs me to where she keeps her pans. I select all I need, spot a few burnt marks and other mysterious stains on them, and get to work on filling the sink with soap and water.
“Those are already washed,” she points out.
“I’ll wash them again just in case.” I roll up my sleeves.
Nardi retreats to the table and leans against it, watching me with her arms folded. “Your wiki profile says you’re a germaphobe. I guess it’s true.”
“I prefer the term ‘health conscious’,” I say, gliding the wash cloth along the blender blades with the precision of a surgeon.
She snorts. “That’s the same thing.”
“I’m not scared of germs. I’m… aware of them.”
“Then you’re also ‘aware’ of all the germs on raw meat and vegetables. How did you ever learn to cook?”
“I used to order fast food all the time because I was so busy. Then a news story broke about the rat infestation in my favorite takeout place.” I almost gag at the memory. “Cleanliness is very important to me, so I rarely eat out anymore. I have someone come in to make my meals now, but I used to do it all on my own before I hired her.”
The dishes clank loudly as I wash them and set them in the rack to drain. I pause from my work to look up at her. “Also, there’s no need to go online. If you have questions about me, you can just ask.”
“You’ll tell me anything?”
I pause. “Anything that isn’t government classified.”
As she ponders the statement, I set the water for the pasta to boil while I shred the parmesan, grate the lemon and crush some garlic. Next, I begin to roast the pine nuts in a pan. The nutty smell wafts through the air, already promising a flavorful meal.
“Did you really sponsor a new wing for Josiah’s school?” Nardi asks.
My wrist, that had been tossing the nuts back and forth in the pan, goes still. Nardi is boring a hole in my face, searching for a hint of duplicity.
Returning my attention to the pan, I answer. “Yes.”
“And what about this building? Did you buy it too?”
Rather than answer straightforwardly—which will, undoubtedly, make me seem like an obsessed creep, I ask, “Do you know much about the original owner of the apartment?”
“Me? No.”
“His name is Zuniga.” I turn off the stove and transfer the pine nuts into the blender along with the thyme, basil, parmesan, olive oil and lemon juice. “Zuniga’s great-grandfather was a Polish immigrant who worked hard to purchase a plot of land in the city.”
Since the blender is too loud to continue speaking, I stop. The loud whirring competes with the faint banging of the workmen downstairs. I make a mental note to take back my instruction for them to work all night. I was being selfish about my own rushed timeline and I wasn’t being considerate to Nardi and the other residents.
The blender continues to whir. All the ingredients blend together and form a vibrant green sauce. I check the consistency, approve it and then leave it there to start on the pasta.
Nardi urges me, “What were you saying about Zuniga again?”
I trace through my thoughts, find the thread of the story and continue, “The land was passed down to Zuniga’s grandfather who built a textile factory. During the war, Zuniga’s grandfather turned the factory into a metal sheet manufacturer.”
I stir the pasta, checking the consistency often to make sure it doesn’t get too limp.
“The factory went bankrupt when the war was won and the buildings remained empty until Zuniga decided to remodel them for the cheapest dollar and rent them out to families who worked nearby.”
“Families like mine,” Nardi breathes out.
“Yes.”
“So you couldn’t possibly have bought this apartment. Since the land has been in his family for generations, there’s no way Zuniga would let it go.”
I drain the pasta into another pan and combine the pesto with it, adding in sun-dried tomatoes, cream, and more cheese.
“Actually, Mr. Zuniga walked away from decades of history for the right price.”
Nardi frowns at me. “What was the price?”
“Not the point.” I look at her as I stir. “The point is that the impossible can be done. That knowledge, that freedom , is what I want to leave my legacy.”
Nardi gives me a wary look at the term ‘legacy’. “Freedom is one thing. What you’re talking about is power.”
“Power isn’t inherently bad. Not when it’s in the right hands.” I plate the pasta and sprinkle some lemon zest to balance out the richness.
Nardi’s eyes are on the food and she licks her lips. However, she tears her eyes away from the food to answer me. “Power ultimately corrupts even the best intentions. History is pretty much a text book example of that.”
“Nothing in this world is going to be perfect. Not even AI and algorithms, which have a ninety-nine percent error rate, are perfect. Why? Because they were made by humans who are flawed.” I slide the plate in front of her along with a fork. “But if power is so corrupting, then isn’t it better to give it to people who’ll do their best to resist that temptation? Isn’t it better if we give power to people that are good.”
Nardi was about to dig in, but she lowers her fork. “Is that why you want to leave it all with Josiah? You believe he’s a good person?”
I inhale deeply. “Not really. It’s not that I think he’s a bad person but… he’s eleven.”
“Then… is it his ability to code?”
I run a hand over my beanie. “That’s a part of it, yeah.”
“What’s the main reason?”
“You remember we created a competition to find him.”
She nods.
I admit, “No one was able to win that competition and I expected that. It’s a problem we, the main technicians, still can’t solve.”
Nardi scrunches her nose.
“But,” I walk back to the kitchen, wipe down her counters, clean out her sink and begin to refill it with fresh water, “I bet Josiah went back to trying to solve the competition challenge.”
Nardi glances away with a guilty expression.
I take the blender apart, dunk it into the sudsy water and clean it thoroughly. “I saw that determination in him the moment he hacked into our simulation. It’s not just his ability to code that impressed me.”
I rinse away the suds from the blender and reach for the pan where I sautéed the pine nuts. “It’s the fact that he doesn’t shy away from what feels impossible. In fact, the harder it is, the more it drives him. It energizes him. He won’t stop because the wall in front of him seems too high to climb.”
Nardi listens intently, not touching her meal.
“I’m under no illusions about the project I’m working on. What I want to accomplish is something that people insist ‘can’t’ be done. It’s something I’d have given up a million times over if I were just a guy who’s good at coding. But skill isn’t what pushes someone to keep going despite the odds. It’s imagination, it’s vision, it’s character.”
Nardi blinks a couple times, her mouth pinned shut.
I stop washing the dishes. “Did I say something wrong?”
“No, I just… I guess I feel a little ashamed. I didn’t see that in Josiah at all. He’s a bright kid, stubborn too. His IQ is among the top in the country. But the rest?” She shakes her head. “It makes me sad that I didn’t acknowledge those parts of him, the parts that actually matter. I knew he’d be great, but I thought he’d be great because of something he did , not because of who he is. ”
She leans back in her chair, her eyes at half mast, her mouth downturned in thought. “It kind of annoys me that it took a stranger to see what I couldn’t. Especially when that stranger has questionable motives, tons of money, and keeps insisting that he wants to marry me.”
I feel my ears getting hot. Clearing my throat, I finish washing the rest of her dishes, remove the apron, and swipe Nardi’s plate from in front of her.
“Hey! I didn’t even touch that!”
I don’t respond and carry it away.
“Are you punishing me because I said I don’t want to marry you?” She frowns.
Quietly, I return her pasta to the pot, set it on the stove and warm it up again. When it’s steaming once more, I share out two plates.
Nardi’s eyes widen and then she chuckles. “If you’re eating with me, you should get another place mat.”
“I’m not.” I pull my car keys out of my pocket. “The other plate is for Josiah. I’m leaving now, so you can release him from his room and let him try it if he wants to.”
“I didn’t…” Her words fade as she can’t quite stick the landing of her lie.
Not waiting for her to escort me, I walk to the door.
“Cullen,” Nardi calls.
Once again, I feel that warm sensation when she calls my name. Turning, I look at her, waiting.
“Thank you. For the food. And the conversation,” she says.
“Thank you for the stairwell and inviting me in.”
She smiles a little wider than she did before. “You’re still a psycho for buying our entire apartment and Josiah’s school.”
“It was only a wing.”
“That doesn’t help your case, Cullen.”
I concede the point.
“But,” her expression gentles, “you’re not that bad.”
“So you’ll marry me?”
She rolls her eyes. “Goodnight, Cullen.”
I chuckle and reach for the door. “Goodnight, Nardi.”
I do not feel drained when I get home.
After dealing with contractors, getting the team’s insight on designing our new office space, and catching a spell of vertigo on the stairs, I should have been wiped out.
Instead, my batteries have been recharged.
Taking advantage of the energy burst, I clean my bedroom, re-wash my sheets, and deep clean the master bath. It’s a task I prefer to do myself rather than hand it over to the housekeeper, but time’s gotten away from me and I’ve let it reach an awful state.
Finally, after my bathroom floors sparkle bright enough that I can see my reflection in them, I shower and climb into bed.
Staring at the ceiling, all I can think about is fixing Nardi and Josiah’s apartment.
I want to renovate the kitchen so she has more space. It amazes me that she cooks for her food stall in such a small area.
I also want to fix whatever’s leaking in her ceiling. What if she and Josiah get mold? What am I supposed to do if my legacy catches a dangerous cough because of my negligence?
Better yet, I want to move them out of there. The entire apartment needs to be gutted and rebuilt with better materials.
I turn on my side. Would Nardi allow me to move her and Josiah to a house near mine?
Something tells me she wouldn’t.
You’re not that bad.
Nardi’s words return to me.
The warm feeling in my chest is back.
Why can’t I stop thinking about her? Why do I feel a rush of excitement—the kind I’d get before a coding competition—at the thought of seeing her again?
I turn on my other side and I’m stunned to see a vision of Nardi lying beside me.
“ You’re not that bad ,” the vision purrs.
I shoot upright. Rub my eyes. Whip around to face the left side of my bed again.
It’s empty.
I massage my forehead. What was that?
Another pair of hands appear over mine and I look up to find Nardi, straddling me on the bed. Her soft fingers draw slow, soothing circles over my temple. Her lips curl up in a seductive smile.
“Does that feel better?”
“Wah!” I flail backward on the bed and the vision of her disappears.
Are the cells in my brain failing me now? Am I having a psychotic break?
I lunge for my phone, heaving thick breaths, fingers trembling as I dial Darrel Hastings’ number to request an immediate brain scan.
Then I see the time.
Three a.m.
Not exactly the right hour to book a consultation. And what exactly am I going to tell Hastings?
‘ I asked a woman I barely know to marry me and now I’m having visions of her in my bed.’ Hastings will have me in a strait jacket.
I hang up quickly, glad that he didn’t pick up.
Deep breaths, Cullen. Deep breaths.
I remove my warm beanie, run my fingers over the prickly hair on my scalp and exhale. No more inhaling strong disinfectants before bed. I think I might have accidentally drugged myself.
Rolling over to the dresser, I open the drawer and find a host of sleeping pills. Picking the one with the strongest dose, I empty two into my palm and chase it back with water.
Nervously, I lie back down, close my eyes and wait for the medication to work its magic.
When I open my eyes again, it’s morning.
My head feels groggy and I sit up straight, taking stock of the left side of the bed.
Empty.
No Nardis to be found.
I shower cautiously, checking around.
Still no Nardis.
Good, that’s good.
I sit at my computer as I do every morning after I brew a pot of coffee.
The chair next to me is Nardi free.
So far, it seems last night was an isolated incident. Feeling more comfortable, I settle into my work.
My phone rings.
It’s my virtual assistant, Sara.
I grunt. “Hello?”
“Mr. Cullen, have you forgotten the interview at HQ this morning?”
“HQ? We don’t have a—” I jolt.
Nardi’s apartment building.
I had to justify the purchase to my investors, so I declared that my team could no longer meet virtually and we needed an office.
I groan in dismay. “What time is it?”
“It’s six am, sir.”
I fly out of my chair and replace my at-home beanie for my business-casual beanie. “When’s the first interview?”
“You set your first meeting at,” she pauses and checks something, “seven o’clock, sir. You said and I quote, ‘interviewing potential candidates is the very definition of a nightmare’. Per your instruction, Asad chose the best three candidates and I told them to show up at six o’clock to test their commitment and time management. As you guessed, only one person showed up and she’s waiting for you now.”
Crap. Crap. Crap. I hop on one leg, pulling up my pants. “I’ll be there soon.”
“Asad and Dr. Young will be coming in as well. They want to play around with the new computers you ordered.”
I order a car the moment I hang up with Sara. The driver arrives in fifteen minutes and, on the way, I read the resumé Sara sends over.
A photo of a pretty blonde woman wearing glasses stares up from the corner of the page. Jenna Straugn is a college graduate with a minor in Machine Learning Development and a Masters in Computer Science with a focus on Software Engineering.
She’s got all the awards and accolades expected of someone with her background. At my company, we don’t lack for skill, but few stick it out when I start making demands. I doubt Jenna Straugn will be any different.
The car slows in front of the apartment building. Construction workers are still moving in and out, but my office should be ready by now.
Sara opens my car door for me.
“Thanks,” I say, looking down at her frazzled bun. “But you don’t have to open my door.”
“Oh, I just… I read that you don’t like germs, so I wanted to help with that. Am I overdoing it?”
I stare at her, my mind traveling back to last night when I cooked for Nardi. ‘ I read that you’re a germaphobe on Wiki.’
“Mr. Cullen?” Sara gets my attention.
“Huh?”
Sara pushes up her glasses with one finger. “Are you okay? Did you sleep well? Do you want me to refill any prescriptions for you? I can rearrange your schedule if you need to go to the hospital.”
I shake my head. “I’m fine.”
“Oh. Okay.” She makes a sweeping gesture. “Right this way then.”
I follow Sara to the side entrance just as a resident walks out.
I freeze immediately.
It’s Nardi.
Or… maybe it isn’t.
Am I hallucinating again?
I rub my eyes, but the vision of Nardi remains. She’s staring at me in shock too.
“Mr. Cullen!” A childish voice breaks my stare. Josiah runs in front of his sister, his backpack slapping against his back.
“H-hey, Josiah.” I’m particularly proud of my fast recovery. My voice is upbeat, my smile polite, and most of all, I do not look like I was imagining Josiah’s sister on top of me last night.
“The pasta you made was incredible, ” Josiah raves.
“You made pasta?” Sara asks, her eyes dripping with intrigue. “In… their apartment?”
I blink rapidly.
Nardi pulls her lips into her mouth.
Thankfully, Josiah saves me by asking, “Did you really donate all that money to our school?”
“How do you know that?” I ask, tilting my head to the side.
“The principal asked me to hand you your certificate?” He smiles proudly.
“Wait, she did?” Nardi frowns. “Why didn’t you tell me about that?”
He shrugs. “You didn’t ask.”
Nardi rolls her eyes.
Josiah looks up at me. “You’re coming to the ceremony, right?”
“Uh… yeah.”
“Promise?”
“Mm-hm.”
I sneak another peek at Nardi. She’s wearing a simple white blouse and a navy blue skirt. Her hair is pulled up into a ponytail. An incredibly dark lipstick coats her mouth and makes it impossible not to stare at her lips.
I gulp, forcing my eyes away from her face altogether.
Nardi isn’t saying anything. Am I supposed to greet her first?
I wait another second.
She still says nothing, so I clear my throat. “Ms. Davis.”
Nardi barely looks at me. “Mr. Cullen.”
Sara glances between me and Nardi. After a while, she hops forward. “Hey! I remember you from yesterday. You had such a unique name. What was it again?”
“Nardi.”
“Oh right. And who’s this?” Sara coos.
Josiah doesn’t respond as he’s busy on his phone.
Nardi gives him a nudge.
“I’m Josiah,” the boy utters reluctantly. Then he finds whatever he was searching for and shows his phone to me. “Mr. Cullen, I saw the school flyer. Are you really leading the Advanced Python Club?”
“Not personally. But I’ll be dropping in to check on your progress.” As I speak, my eyes stray to Nardi again.
She’s looking at me too but, when our gazes collide, she quickly looks away.
“Nardi told me I couldn’t work on your simulation, but if we work on it at school…” Josiah arches an eyebrow invitingly.
“If your sister said no, you should respect that,” I answer distractedly.
Josiah rolls his eyes.
“But maybe I can talk to Nardi about getting you a laptop and allowing you to code after you finish all your homework.”
“She won’t listen to you.” Josiah leans in and whispers loud enough that everyone can hear, “she thinks you’re a creep.”
I cough.
Nardi winces.
Sara lets loose a nervous chuckle. “Well, would you look at the time? Mr. Cullen, we have that interview to get to.”
“Come on, Josiah. At this rate, I’ll be caught in traffic and be late for work.” Nardi drags her brother forward.
I step out of her way for fear of being run over. The scent of her vanilla-honey perfume floats in the air as she brushes past me.
The moment they’re gone, Sara exhales loudly. “Well, that was awkward.”
Clenching my jaw, I stride ahead of her.
Sara scrambles behind me.
Inside the building, dust hangs like a cloud in the air. I’m forced to wear a face mask and gloves, but even that isn’t enough and I know I’ll need to bathe at least three times to get all the dirt off my skin.
I follow the path of transparent plastic hanging from the ceiling until I get to a finished office. The scent of paint is still strong, but the window is open, allowing fresh air inside.
A new desk and a powerful computer are waiting in the center of the room, not a speck of dust on them. I make a mental note to pay the contractor a bonus. He must have hired a cleaning staff to meet my requirements.
Asad and Dr. Young are seated in chairs to the right of the desk. Dr. Young is reading a book while Asad is sitting on the edge of his seat, his eyes so wide they’re about to fall out of his head.
The target of his attention is a slim blonde woman with her back to me. The woman turns and smiles when she hears our footsteps.
“This is Jenna Straugn.” Sara introduces the woman.
Jenna rises, her eyes fastened on my face. “Hello, Mr. Cullen. I’m a huge fan.”
I note the way the woman, unlike other fans of mine, doesn’t try to shake my hand. On any other day, her consideration would please me.
But not today.
The interaction with Nardi upsets me, and I’m not sure why. I’m finding it hard to concentrate.
The void of silence deepens.
Sara flails her hands nervously. “A-alright. Mr. Cullen, should we start the interview?”
I fall into the chair behind the desk, trying my best to focus. But my mind keeps traveling back to Nardi.
Why was she so distant with me today? Does she still think I have bad intentions? Then why did she tell me I wasn’t that bad last night?
My skin suddenly prickles with awareness and I look up, realizing that everyone is staring at me.
“Mr. Cullen?” Jenna says patiently. “Is something wrong?”
I scramble to sit up right. “No, I don’t have any complaints about your resumé.”
“Then why were you scowling?”
My fingers slowly come up to my face. “Was I?”
I check Asad and Dr. Young for verification. They both nod.
Get it together, Cullen. I force my thoughts away from Nardi and try to regain a semblance of professionalism.
“The most important part of working at Cullen Tech is being flexible,” I inform her. “We don’t follow a regular schedule. Expect to work long hours, face impossible tasks and push yourself to the very limits.”
“I look forward to it, sir.” Jenna smiles again.
Inside, I cringe. What part of that warning warrants such a big grin?
“Sara will take you through the onboarding process. This will be our main office for the time being. You’ll report here along with the B-Team.”
“Yes, sir.” She salutes.
Sara leads Jenna Straughn out of the room.
Asad sighs dreamily. “If I had a girl like Jenna in my programming class, I’d never be able to concentrate.”
Dr. Young grunts. “You say that about every woman.”
“No, I don’t,” Asad mutters, offended.
“Just yesterday, you said if you had a neighbor who looked like Nardi Davis, you wouldn’t be able to leave your house.”
My ears perk up.
“Nardi is pretty. Very pretty. But she seems… like too much of a challenge. Jenna, on the other hand, is refreshingly sweet, and did you see her eyes? They’re as blue as the sky. Nardi’s is just a plain old brown.”
“Plain brown? Are you colorblind?” I glare at Asad. “Have you seen Nardi’s eyes in the sun? They’re pure honey.”
Asad blinks.
Dr. Young swings his head around to stare at me.
I slap my mouth shut. Why the hell did I just say that?
As if he can sense my mental breakdown, my phone rings.
“Hey, Cullen.” Darrel Hastings says when I pick up. “I’m returning your missed call. Is everything alright?”
No sense acting like I’m not going insane . “No, actually. I need to speak with you,” I grumble. Grabbing my bag, I hurry out of the room under the watchful eyes of my team and hiss into the phone, “When can I schedule a session?”