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“But listening to business podcasts and running your own business are two very different things.”
Nardi shrugs. “You’re so awkward and brusque with people, butyoustill managed to build a million-dollar company,” she teases. “How hard can it be?” Moving away, she heads to the kitchen. “Are you hungry? I’ll make breakfast.”
“You didn’t answer my second question,” I call.
“Which was?” She opens the refrigerator.
“When are you going home?”
“I don’t know,” she answers casually.
“Your mom called this morning.”
Nardi freezes, staring unseeingly into the stainless steel fridge.
I clear my throat. “She said not to worry about Josiah. That she’d take him to and from school.”
Nardi suddenly slams the door shut and plants her hands on her hips. “Oh, that’s smooth.”
I blink. “What is?”
“Mom’s playing the victim card.” She roughly opens my cupboard, looking for something. “It’s classic reverse psychology.”
“Is she?” I frown.
“She thinks, by telling me that, I’ll feel bad and rush back.” Nardi shakes her head. “Well, I won’t. I’ve made my decision.”
Was that what Mrs. Davis intended? “I didn’t get that impression at all. It felt like she was giving you space to come back on your own time.”
Nardi slams the cupboard door and I jump. But, when she turns to me, it’s with a sickly-sweet smile. “I’ve changed my mind about cooking. Let’s have cereal with almond milk for breakfast.”
“I’m not hungry.” I swerve back to my computer.
She shrugs. “More for me.”
I do my best to ignore her as Nardi pours out cereal, climbs on a bar stool and eats while scrolling on her phone.
Eventually, I manage to get my brain back into gear for my meeting with the lawyers. A few minutes before the call, Nardi pokes her head into my office.
“Cullen, is there a reason you keep those windows covered? Does the light give you a headache or something?”
“Not really.”
“Okay then.” She disappears as quickly as she appeared.
I want to follow her, but I force myself to stay seated and slip my headphones on in preparation for the call instead.
The moment the lawyers appear on my monitor, I know they don’t have good news.
“I’m sorry, Cullen. The injunction fell through. I’m afraid you’ll have to take this to court.”
A headache brews and I really wish I’d taken Nardi up on that offer of having breakfast. Not sleepingandnot eating is an awful combination.
“This isn’t the results I was looking for,” I say harshly.
“We have all the evidence we need to prove you own the PLP mainframe. The worst they can do is drag it out in court.”
“Exactly,” I snap. “I don’t have time for a long, drawn-out court case.”