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We’d have to have been dating to break up. And while it’s clear we both have feelings for each other, we’re not officially together.
Sara shakes her head slowly. It seems like she intends to hang around.
“I was in the middle of something,” I tell my assistant, pointing to the door.
She scowls. “Yeah, I’m leaving. Oh, before I forget, this was delivered to your mailbox.” Sara sets a document down on the desk.
I ignore it.
“Well, I guess… let me know if you need anything.”
I pretend to tap on my keyboard until the door clicks shut. When she’s gone, I lift the package. It’s the same packet that I gave to Nardi via Roger.
After a few deep breaths, I open it. All the documents are here and unsigned. Nardi returned everything I gave her.
I look past the share transfer agreement to the marriage application form.
Pain strikes my chest again. It’s been happening more and more lately. The doctor told me to expect it. As my body shuts down and my cells turn against themselves, many of the functions I take for granted will make day-to-day living difficult.
Woodenly, I roll open my drawer and grab my medication. Chasing the pills back with another energy drink, I blink rapidly to soothe the dryness of my eyes.
Thoughts of Nardi hurt worse than the pain in my chest. Hoping to numb myself to the world, I go back to work on the simulation.
I’mthisclose to having it ready for the board presentation. The meeting was scheduled for this week, but Sullivan wanted me to rest so he wrangled a two-week extension.
There’s no way I’ll be able to attend that meeting. So, I want the work to be as close to perfect before I hand it over to Asad and Dr. Young.
In the corner of my eye, I see movement from the apartment’s entrance. Pointing all my focus there, I stare at Mrs. Davis as she closes the door gently behind her and waddles down to the front door of my company.
Shocked, I lurch out of my seat and rush down the hallway.
“Mrs. Davis,” I gasp, skittering to a stop in the lobby.
Nardi’s mom glances at me and I expect her to smile, but she doesn’t. Her somber expression makes my ribs tighten around my heart.
“Mr. Cullen,” my receptionist says nervously.
“It’s okay, Glennice.” I wave a hand. “She’s with me.”
Mrs. Davis clutches her purse tightly. “Cullen, do you have some time? I’d like to speak to you in your office.”
I think of the security feed pointed at her daughter’s door.
“The conference room is better,” I suggest. Once we arrive there, I pull out a chair for her and ask, “Would you like something to drink?”
“No, this won’t take long.” She balances her purse on the chair but doesn’t sit.
Since she’s standing, I do too.
Awkwardly, I ask, “H-how’s Nardi?”
“Trying her best to act normal when she’s hurting, but I’m her mother. She can’t fool me.” Mrs. Davis pauses. “To answer your question, she’s not doing well.”
My stomach churns. It feels like she just punched me in the throat. “Is she sick?”
“Why are you asking as if you don’t know? She’s heartsick.”
Averting my eyes from hers, I murmur, “I’m sorry.”