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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 strongdisinfectants 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.