Chapter 8
Eight
NARDI
I do not care that Ronan Cullen, a seriously ill patient, is avoiding the hospital.
It has nothing to do with me.
So what if he’s intentionally not taking treatment that could save him?
He’s a grown man.
And why should I be the one to get through to him? I have my own issues to think about.
Yesterday, Josiah’s school sent me an email reminding me of my agreement to volunteer at their annual fundraiser.
At the beginning of the year, I filled out a form committing to attend a bunch of PTA meetings and helping to organize the event. I’ve been skipping out on the meetings because I stick out like a sore thumb inside the room filled with pampered housewives who get manicures and Botox for a living.
If I could, I’d be a no-show, but it was either volunteer at the fundraiser or I write the school a check. I definitely didn’t have the money to donate to anything, so I need to at least show my face.
On top of the dreaded PTA meetings, I’m now sneaking around the hallways, looking over my shoulder to avoid Big T. His awkward ramblings are getting closer and closer to a full-out date request.
I don’t know how much longer I can hold him off.
And my biggest worry of all? My little brother is an eleven-year-old hacker, who may or may not, at this very moment, be preparing his next cyber crime.
If that’s not a filled plate, I don’t know what is.
Ronan Cullen has millions of dollars to wipe his tears with at night. With billionaire friends like Darrel Hastings in his corner, he’ll be fine.
He’s not my problem.
“Nardi, the rice is burning.” Josiah’s voice brings me out of my thoughts.
“Huh?”
Without removing his attention from his phone, Josiah points to the stove. I yelp when I realize I turned the burner up to the maximum when I should have turned it down low to allow the rice to steam.
“Oh no! Oh no!” I yank an oven mitt from the hook and drag the giant rice pan off the burner completely.
Upon removing the lid of the pan, the smell of burnt rice becomes ten times stronger. I completely ruined it.
“Josiah, put on those oven mitts over there and help me grab this.”
My brother moves at the pace of a snail crawling over nails. I resist the urge to bark at him and tap my feet on the ground, waiting until he takes out his ear buds, slowly sets his phone down and strolls over to me like a gentleman in Pride and Prejudice parading about the town.
“ Finally . Take that end,” I order him.
He grabs it with his dark fingers. “Are you going to throw it out?”
“I can’t sell burnt rice to people, can I?” I answer sarcastically.
Josiah purses his lips, knowing better than to answer me when I’m in this state.
I hate that I’m lashing out at him. I hate that my concentration is more and more shot these days. I’ve been off-kilter ever since the cafe meeting with Sunny and Darrel Hastings. There’s an ever present disquiet in the center of my stomach. No matter what I do or where I am, it strikes me suddenly and without explanation.
Grabbing a giant spoon, I scrape the rice into the garbage, wincing as my hard earned cash ends up in the trash.
“Are we in trouble?” Josiah asks.
My eyes flit up to him. “Why would you say that?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know.”
“We’re not in trouble.”
“You’ve been acting weird since last week.”
“I have not ,” I argue.
“You missed a turn on the freeway and had to drive all the way around to take me to school. And then you told me you’d pick me up every day after school, but you keep forgetting. I end up missing the bus because I wait too long for you. Then yesterday, you bought bananas from the grocery store instead of plantain?—”
“ Anyone could have made that mistake.”
A thoughtful wrinkle appears between his eyebrows. “No Belizean would.”
He’s got me there.
“Everything is fine.” The metal spoon makes a loud noise as it scrapes the stubborn remnants of rice. “You’re overthinking.”
“Mom asked if you’re dating someone,” Josiah says.
The spoon goes limp in my hand.
“Are you?” Josiah asks.
“No.”
“You’re not dating Big T?”
“Absolutely not,” I say quickly. “Did someone tell you that we were together?”
Josiah shrugs.
Stressed, I take the pot from Josiah and set it on the counter. “Go brush your teeth.”
“Do I really have to go with you to sell today?” Josiah groans.
“I gave you a choice and this is the punishment you chose.” I notice him sulking, and add, “Have you changed your mind? Because you can stay home and the phone can come with me instead.”
Josiah clutches the phone to his chest as if it’s his precious child. “I’ll brush my teeth.”
While my brother patters away, I set the rice pot in the sink and fill it to the brim with water.
Thankfully, I have enough potatoes in the cupboard to salvage today’s menu.
I cringe as I set a pot to boil and start peeling the potatoes. Stew chicken and rice and beans belong together. Mashed potatoes with Caribbean food is a huge no-go.
I wouldn’t be able to sell a plate of this in Belize. But, thankfully here in America, fusion dishes are all the rage. I’m confident I can make this work.
Josiah returns to the kitchen, his mouth filled with foam. “Mom’s calling.”
“Why are you announcing it to me?” I ask, avoiding his eyes guiltily.
“She asked yesterday if your phone was broken.”
“I’ve been texting her.”
“ I’m the one who texts mom. You’re the one who calls her.”
“Go spit out the toothpaste and then answer the phone. Don’t make mom worry.”
Josiah huffs and a bunch of toothpaste rockets out of his mouth. I expect him to leave the kitchen and do as he’s told but, instead, he picks up mom’s call right in front of me. “Hi, mom. Nardi’s here. Do you want to talk to her?”
“Yes, I do!” Mom’s voice rings through the air, tugging at my memories of balmy Belizean days, big Sunday dinners, and frequent visits to the sea. Her accent thick and clear as day, she yells. “Nardi?”
“I’m going to end you,” I whisper to my brother.
He sticks out his tongue.
“Nardi?” Mom calls my name again.
“Yes, mom. I’m here.”
Josiah leaves his phone on the counter and darts away. I guess his fear of talking on the phone is worse than his obsession with the device.
“What are you doing?” mom asks. “It’s been so long since we’ve talked.”
I scrunch my nose. “Mom, we talk all the time. I just haven’t been able to sit down for a long chat because I’m so busy.”
“Busy, busy, busy. When are you taking time to rest, Nardi?”
I deftly peel the potatoes. “I’ll rest when I retire.”
“The way you’re running around, you may get sick before then.”
Sick? Sick like Cullen?
I shake my head to clear it of the thought.
“You need to take care of yourself,” mom admonishes me. “What if you end up in the hospital?”
Cullen’s avoiding the hospital’s calls. He doesn’t want to hear the results of his latest test.
“I know, mom. I’m taking care of myself so I can take care of Josiah.”
Mom’s voice flutters with nerves. “Nardi, that isn’t what I meant. You know I love you both.”
“Yes, mom. I know.”
“It’s just that Josiah is so young and fragile. And I’m afraid he’ll be taken advantage of over there. You know how smart he is, but that doesn’t mean he understands the world. It would be so easy to get in trouble.
Here in Belize, at least we have people who’ve known us for years and can look out for us. I’ve heard how cold people are to their neighbors in big cities. They don’t even want to acknowledge each other despite living next to one another for years! If you’re not looking out for Josiah, no one will.”
“I’ll make sure nothing happens, mom. I promise.”
Her voice drops to a hurt whisper. “Of course you will, Nardi. I didn’t mean to imply that you wouldn’t. Oh, the words are coming out all wrong. I just want you to take care of yourself. For Josiah’s sake and yours. You’re both all alone over there.”
I finish with peeling the potatoes and plop them in the boiling water, being careful not to cause too much of a splash.
“Josiah’s doing well in school,” I say. “Everything is fine.”
“Oh yes. I saw a picture of him handing out a certificate at a school function. He looked so happy. He was practically beaming from ear to ear.”
“What picture? Why didn’t I get a picture?”
“Let me send it over right now,” mom says.
My phone beeps.
I look at the screen and the face of the person I’ve been desperately not thinking about appears. I quickly hit the back button so the picture disappears, but it’s too late. It’s been seared in my mind.
Cullen, wearing a snug white shirt and fitted trousers. It was my first time seeing him out of a polo or T-shirt and jeans. He looked handsome. Even his beanie didn’t look out of place with the outfit.
“Isn’t he a looker?” Mom teases, her voice turning soft and giggly. “He’s on the skinny side, but that’s nothing a little Caribbean cooking wouldn’t fix. Besides, he’s tall so that makes up for everything. I always say, a man doesn’t have to be handsome if he’s tall. And luckily, that white boy has both the looks and the height. Why don’t I see a ring on him?”
I squirm. “Mom, I’m kind of in the middle of cooking for my stall so I can’t talk long?—”
Just then, Josiah re-enters the kitchen and I mime frantically for him to take the phone from me.
“Alright. You two stay safe and I love you so much.”
“Love you too, mom.”
Josiah grunts, which is his own version of ‘I love you’.
“And Nardi, no matter how busy you are, let’s try not to go too long without a call. I want to make sure everything’s alright.”
“Understood, mom. Don’t worry. I love you.”
“Bye, mom.” Josiah hangs up.
I glare at him. “Consider your punishment extended.”
“What for?” he whines.
“Because I said so.”
He stomps to the living room where he slouches in the corner chair and continues to tap on his phone.
Thirty minutes later, the mashed potatoes have been whipped to perfection and it’s time to take the laborious journey down the stairs.
Josiah heads out first with the giant pot of stewed chicken while I follow behind with the plastic tub of mashed potatoes. Immediately, Big T’s door bursts open and he hurries to me.
At this point, I firmly believe he stares through his peephole every Saturday afternoon, waiting to see movement from my apartment.
“Nardi, hey.”
I lift a knee to balance the container more securely in my arms. “Hey, Big T.”
He checks his watch. “Heading out a little late today.”
“Yeah, but we’ll make it.”
“Let me take that,” Big T says, reaching for the pot and slightly brushing his hand against my chest in the process.
I ease back, telling myself—as I always do when that happens—that it’s just a mistake. “Thanks.”
“No problem.” He stares at me, licking his lips.
I clear my throat. “I’ll get the plates and utensils. Josiah, take the car keys and open the door. Stack these in the backseat.”
“Hey, Big J.” Big T grins at my brother and lifts his chin up in greeting.
Josiah pretends not to have heard him, snatches the key from me and stomps down the stairs.
Big T frowns at Josiah’s back. “Kids these days, huh? They got a lot of attitude.”
“It’s definitely a different generation,” I agree.
“When I was growing up, I would have been whupped for ignoring someone older than me.” His eyes narrow slightly at the staircase.
Unease slithers through my body. I’ve complained about how easy mom is on Josiah compared to me, so the ‘back in my day’ talk doesn’t affect me much. However, there’s something about the way Big T says it, as if he would personally want to whup my brother, that gives me pause.
“Uh, you should probably head down,” I say, wanting some space from him.
Big T turns to me and smiles sweetly. “I’ll wait for you to get your stuff. We’ll head down together.”
I consider insisting that he leave first, but I remind myself that Big T hasn’t actually hurt my brother at all. He’s been a good neighbor and consistently helped me out every week.
“Yeah, thanks.”
I grab all the dishes, utensils, napkins and other items I’ll need to set up my stall. Big T relieves me of some of the bigger items—like the tent poles—and walks with me down the stairs.
“You know,” he begins, “you wouldn’t have to work this hard if you had a man.”
Is he starting already? I laugh to lighten the mood before he can make it intense and weird. “In this economy? I’d have to work even if I had two.”
A giant frown slashes over his face. “You’re not one of those types who mess with multiple men to cover different bills, are you?”
“Uh, no. It was just a joke.”
His expression remains severe. “Because there are women like that who think, just ‘cause they’re pretty, they can mess around.”
Again, his intensity feels a bit like a warning.
My heart thuds. “I believe in commitment. Whether it’s in a relationship or a marriage, if two people agree to be exclusive, they shouldn’t have any outside relationships.”
“Word.”
Prickles of unease crop over the back of my neck and I tighten my grip on the napkins. “So,” I say in a high pitched voice, “what are your plans for today?”
“Nothing much. Just chilling.”
“Oh.” I bob my head and quicken my pace down the stairs.
The thud, thud, thud of Big T’s footsteps chase me.
“What are you doing tonight?” Big T asks, closing the gap between us.
I make an intentional effort to stare straight ahead. The closer we get to the door, the faster I can get in my car.
“I’m… meeting some friends.”
“What friends? Girl friends?” Big T asks.
Again, that feeling of unease presses into me like a snake slithering around my ankles. “I wonder what’s taking Josiah so long? He should have already delivered those pots and come back to help us with the rest.”
Big T stares at me, his eyes slightly narrowed. I can tell he doesn’t buy the subject change. I’m lying through my teeth about having plans tonight, but even if I wasn’t, what makes him think he has a right to know who I’m meeting?
The light brightens and I realize we’re closing in on the exit. I chase that door down with everything in me until I’m outside.
Only a couple more steps to the parking lot now and I’ll be golden.
Big T’s lumbering behind me, and I can tell he’s gearing up to ask another probing question.
This is ridiculous.
I’ve been overlooking all the little things because I do need help. I’m not one of those independent girlies who thinks I should force myself to deny a man’s assistance for the sake of being a ‘girl boss’.
But I think this has gone too far.
I open my mouth, intending to clarify my lack of interest once and for all.
Who cares if I have to carry my own items every Saturday? I’ve been ignoring this conversation long enough.
But I spot a familiar face in the distance.
It’s… Cullen.
He’s wearing a forest green beanie this time along with a white T-shirt and khakis. Even from this distance, his light blue eyes are sparkling and crinkling at the corners from the force of his smile.
Wait… that smile.
I’ve never seen him smile like that.
My attention flits to the person beside Cullen. She’s a petite blonde woman with cute glasses, blue eyes and a grin that tells me she delights in every millisecond she gets to spend with him.
A dark force rumbles inside me, pulsing through my skin. It’s like a thick, poisonous smoke. It rolls out of nowhere and threatens to choke me.
My stomach twists into knots and then unwinds to become a whip. One I long to lash out and smack against Cullen and that grinning blonde’s face.
The sun hides behind a cloud to escape from my sudden, inexplainable rage.
I thought I was the only one he felt comfortable with? Darrel Hastings even asked me to butt into Cullen’s life because I’m the first woman he’s gotten close to? But what is this?
I haven’t seen Cullen in over a week, and I guess he hasn’t thought about me once during that time. He’s clearly living his best freaking life with Becky over there, while I’ve been burning rice and missing my exits because he’s been running through my mind twenty four freaking seven!
As the entire world darkens, I glare a hole into Cullen’s face. He must feel the pinch of my stare because he turns his head in my direction.
Big T stops. While looking at Cullen, he says, “That’s your tutor.”
“Yeah.”
“I heard he rented the office on the first floor and moved his company into this building. Apparently, he’s one of those tech guys.”
He’s a programmer, not a ‘tech guy’. He also owns the entire building, but it seems that piece of information hasn’t gotten around to the neighbors yet.
“Yeah,” I mutter.
Miffed, I twist my head and keep walking toward the parking lot. Unfortunately, Cullen and his little Bo Peep are heading right along our path. We inevitably collided at the halfway mark.
“Yo,” Big T says, acknowledging Cullen first.
Cullen nods politely, but his eyes are on me, not Big T. Maybe it’s wishful thinking but his voice is especially soft when he says, “Hi, Nardi.”
I dart a quick look at him, keeping my lips pinned tight and my face hard. “Hey.”
“Ronan, who’s this?” The blonde asks.
Ronan? Did she just call him ‘Ronan’? I’ve never heard anyone refer to Cullen by his first name. At times, I even forget that Cullen is his last name. What gives this chick the right? Does she think she’s special?
Maybe she is to him? They look like they were made for each other.
At the thought, my fingers dig even harder into the pack of napkins and my tough facade slips, leaking out the hurt I feel inside.
“Nardi, this is Jenna, our new programmer. Jenna, this is Nardi, my?—”
For a blissful second, I think he’ll call me his fiancée.
But then he says, “My mentee’s sister.”
“Your mentee? You mean the one who inspired you last week?”
Cullen nods.
I shift from one foot to the next, barely listening to their conversation. Why is Cullen introducing me as Josiah’s sister first? Last week, he was gung-ho about me getting married to him. He went around telling everyone we were engaged.
But now what?
He doesn’t want his little blonde friend to know he proposed to me? Is that it?
I have no idea where these irrational thoughts are coming from. On some level, I’m aware that I’m being absolutely ridiculous.
I’m the one who told Cullen not to call me his fiancé.
I’m the one who constantly told him to back off.
On what grounds do I feel betrayed? With what evidence? Did I expect that he’d be worrying about me the way I’ve been worrying about him?
Obviously he has not.
But no amount of rational thinking can save me now. I’m deep in my feelings and common sense has been thrown to the wind.
Which is probably why I center all of the items I’m carrying in one hand and place my fingers on Big T’s shoulder. His eyes widen when I touch him and he whips his head to look at me.
Cullen stares at where I’m touching Big T as well. The smile drips off his face and becomes a perturbed frown.
“ This ,” I say sweetly, “is Big T. He’s a very good friend who helps me out on the weekends.”
“I’d say we’re a little more than friends, huh?” Big T winks.
I force a laugh.
Cullen’s cheeks turn red, and his stare becomes something sharp and destructive. I wish I could fully enjoy that expression, but I can’t.
Big T is now standing close to me. So close, I can smell that he didn’t use deodorant this morning.
My teeth clench together. What am I doing? Why am I affirming that there’s something going on between us when I was just about to cut him off two seconds ago?
This is a mess, and suddenly, no one is talking.
Cullen just stares and stares at me.
Big T preens like the emperor with no clothes.
And I’m seriously regretting every single choice I’ve made in the past week and a half.
“Well,” Jenna says hesitantly, “it was nice meeting you.”
Big T grins at her.
Jenna blinks rapidly. “Ronan, we have that meeting to get to.”
Cullen’s lips pull into a hard, straight line. He gives me one last look before storming off. A confused Jenna darts behind him.
Big T chuckles. “I guess I didn’t have anything to worry about.”
“What?” I spew the word impatiently. That short encounter with Cullen tore me up inside, like I’m cabbage on a grater. It bothers me that I’m bothered.
Big T shakes his head. “Nothing. So about tonight how ‘bout you give your girls a rain check and I take you out instead?”
I grimace. How do I get myself out of this now? “I… can’t tonight.”
“Why not?” His eyes narrow and he looms above me, his face twisted into a sneer. “Are you really meeting your friends tonight? Where are you really going?”
My heart hammers and I back away from him. “I…”
A man blurs past Big T, grabs my hand gently but firmly and pulls me behind him. I stumble on my feet, barely managing to keep all the napkins, utensils and plates in my arms.
The first thing I see when the shock wears off is a broad back and a head covered by a dark green beanie.
“The hell are you doing?” Big T growls, advancing on Cullen.
“Nardi,” Cullen says, not tearing his eyes off Big T for a second, “I know you want to keep the fact that you’re my fiancée a secret, but I can’t stand seeing other men assume you’re single.”
“Fiancée?” Big T’s eyes widen.
Cullen reaches for the tent poles and the container of mashed potatoes. Big T tightens it to his chest in the way that Josiah had done with his phone when I threatened to take it away earlier.
Undeterred, Cullen digs the poles out of Big T’s arms, scoops the container of mashed potatoes in the crook of his elbow and takes my hand again. Is he strong enough to do that? Should I be concerned?
“Let’s go,” he says, his face a picture of quiet, steady determination.
I follow him all the way to the parking lot, too shocked to remove my hand from his or to say a word. It’s not until we get closer to the parking lot that I regain my senses.
Shaking my arm loose, I break out of Cullen’s firm grip and glare at him. “What the heck are you doing?”
“Hate me all you want. I did you a favor.”
“Did you?”
“You didn’t look comfortable back there and, frankly, neither was I.”
I grab the mashed potatoes pan from him, annoyed that he’s holding something so heavy when his health is so poor. “There were other ways of helping me out than calling me your fiancée.”
His face falls. “I apologize. Next time I rescue you from a guy twice my size,” he holds up two fingers, “I’ll be sure to consult with you on the story.”
“Next time? Who says I’ll let you drag me away like that again?”
“What a strange and aggressive way of saying ‘thank you’?”
“Just so we’re clear, I didn’t ask you to do that. I had it perfectly under control.”
“Oh yeah?” Cullen says sarcastically.
“Yeah!”
“Then I’m sure you’re aware that the man you were rubbing your hand all over has a restraining order taken out on him by his ex girlfriend. I’m equally sure that you read her online post detailing how controlling and manipulative he was during their relationship.”
I step back. “Did you do a background check on Big T?”
“Did you miss the ‘restraining’ or the ‘order’ part?” His voice is quiet but heated.
I fold my arms over my chest. “Thanks for the heads-up. I’ll keep it in mind. Are we done here? I’m busy.”
“So am I,” he sputters.
“Oh, I bet you are. I bet you’re so, so busy with Jenna .”
“Jenna’s one of the many technicians working on the PLP.”
I’m well aware that I’m making a fool of myself, but I can’t seem to stop. At this point, the boulder’s racing down the hill and it’ll only end when it crashes into the base of a mountain.
“Really?” I infuse my voice with enough sarcasm to choke a pig. “Is that all she is? Because you might need to tell Jenna that. I don’t think Jenna’s aware.”
“Can you stop saying her name like that?”
“Why?” I shrug insolently. “Are you feeling protective of Jenna? Does she have a smart brother you’d prefer to make your legacy instead?”
Cullen’s nostrils flare. “That’s enough, Nardi.”
“No, that’s not right.” I tap my chin in mock contemplation. “What really happened is that you bought over the school principal with a new lab. She’ll give you all the access to my brother that you need. I can tell you not to meet him at home, but school is an entirely different story. And now that you’re mentoring your legacy, there’s no need to marry his sister, right? Great! Glad we had this talk. Now hand over my tent poles.”
I reach for the metal rods just as Cullen releases his grip on them. They clamor to the ground, making a ruckus and causing the dogs in the neighborhood to howl up a frenzy.
My eyes roar with flames and I fillet him with my gaze, but his eyes are equally heated and his chest heaves with frustration.
Two uncomfortable seconds of staring passes between us.
And then Cullen closes the distance between us.
A different kind of flame sparks inside me.
Heart slamming against my ribs, I step back.
He keeps advancing.
I bump into the hood of a truck and pivot sideways so I can run away. Cullen brings his hand up against the door, barring me.
I turn to the other side.
His hand comes down on the hood, bracketing me in fully.
I stare up at him, my breath escaping harshly. “W-what are you doing? Let me go.”
“I will if you promise not to run,” he grinds out.
My mouth opens, but the lie won’t leave my lips.
“Thought so.” The muscles in Cullen’s square jaw are working overtime. He leans forward, making his biceps flex and contract right next to my face. I smell a whiff of his… what is that? It’s not strong enough to be cologne. Is it aftershave? It smells amazing.
Cullen brings his head close to mine and I feel very different feelings than I did with Big T. The sun is blazing through the sky, but the moonlight blue of his eyes makes everything beyond him go dark.
That stupid beanie looks soft to the touch and I flatten my fingers against the door to keep from reaching out and touching it. Touching him.
Cullen bypasses my lips and his chin hovers an inch above my shoulder. His breath on my ear prickles my dark skin. I pant from the heat of the moment, struggling to control my breathlessness as my head spins.
“Nardi,” Cullen calls my name in that quiet, raspy way of his, “you’re very, very mistaken.”
A storm settles inside my chest, battering my heart like a boat sailing on stormy seas, pulled by the restless tide, a wave built and broken by the moon.
Cullen straightens. There’s more distance between us now, but the heat of his body is like a physical force. It pulls something out of me, something restless and desperate for more. I drop my eyes to the ground, self-preservation demanding I avoid him.
But a strong, crooked finger braces my chin, tilting my head up. Cullen shifts those moonlight eyes to mine and I flinch. But he won’t allow me to look away.
“If I ever get married in this lifetime,” he says, “it will only be to you.”
My heart bucks, rebelling at first at the underlying threat wrapped in the promise. Then there’s a flash of relief followed slowly by a dose of mistrust. I search his eyes for signs of dishonesty. There is none. He’s dead serious.
Click click.
The car I’m pressed against flashes it’s lights.
Oh crap!
Cullen and I scramble away from each other just as a man approaches the vehicle. He looks vaguely familiar, but I can’t place him.
“Asad.” Cullen clears his throat.
Asad’s eyes are magnified behind his glasses. The moment he spots us, he spins around as if not wanting to be an accomplice to a crime of public indecency.
“Sorry. Sorry, boss. I didn’t realize you two were… I mean…” Click click. He locks the car again. “I’ll call a cab instead. The car is all yours. Feel free to continue…”
With knees as mushy as the boiled potatoes in my container, I take off as fast as I can.