How the Light Gets In (Cracks Duet #2)(41)

I frowned at him, because that sounded a lot like the perfume he made when we were still at school, the one he’d used my flowers to create. Dylan must’ve seen the realisation on my face.

“Ah, now she gets it.”

“E.V. is that same perfume you made in the lab at our school?”

“With a few adjustments here and there.”

“Wow, that’s . . . wow.”

I didn’t know what to say. I couldn’t believe that something so simple, a little school chemistry project making perfume, could turn into a global success. Dylan tugged on my hand and we continued walking. “It’s still my best work. I think that’s because I made it when I was with you.”

My mind wandered back to what he’d called me when we slept together, and heat suffused my chest.

My muse.

“So, I’m your lucky charm?”

He grinned. “Something like that.”

We walked for a few more minutes then headed back to the house. When we reached the car, Dylan hesitated at the driver’s side. I stood on the passenger’s side and studied him. He looked like he was deep in thought.

“Everything okay?”

He fiddled with his keys and pressed the button to unlock the doors, but he didn’t move to open it. I didn’t open mine either, wondering what he was thinking about. I didn’t have to wonder long when he braced his hands on the roof of the car and levelled his eyes on me.

“I want us to design a perfume together.”

His statement took me completely off guard as I stared at him, wide-eyed. “You and me?”

“Yes. And I want to dedicate it to Sam.”

I swallowed a few times as emotion clutched me. The idea of doing something like that after all these years . . .

I blinked to keep from welling up. “But I don’t know anything about designing perfume.”

“Yes, you do. You’ve just pushed it to the back of your mind. All you need to do is rediscover it.”

I knew he was talking about my allotment, the flowers I used to grow. I guess I did know a little about perfume in the sense that I knew what almost every flower smelled like. Even now, I could pick them out the moment I stepped into a room, whether it was a rose-scented candle or the orange blossom in a bowl of potpourri on a coffee table.

“Why do you want to do this?” I asked.

Dylan appeared overcome. “I just . . . I know this sounds ridiculous, because I was at his funeral, but I feel like I never really got to say goodbye. He was there one minute and gone the next. Sam was such a vibrant soul, and I feel like the world needs to know he existed, even if he was taken too soon.”

And you blame yourself, I thought.

I knew he’d never admit it, but it was true. Those boys had been after Dylan, not Sam. He was caught in the crossfire, and paid the ultimate price. I thought of how angry I’d been back then, how angry Dylan was, too.

I stifled the need to cry for a second time and walked around the car. Without a word, I pulled him into a hug and he practically melted into my arms. I could feel his vulnerability like a tangible thing. I rubbed his back and nuzzled my nose into his neck.

I felt him shiver and wrap his arms around my waist. He held me tight as I whispered in his ear one word. “Okay.”



*

“So anyway, we have two kids and neither of us wants more. My wife asked me to have a vasectomy, because the labour with our second was so awful and she never wants to go through that again,” said the man sitting in front of me.

I was working my usual shift at the bar, and listening to the woes of customers came with the job. Most of the time, I didn’t mind, but tonight my head was elsewhere. I was too busy thinking about Dylan’s proposal. Design a perfume together.

I knew it wasn’t some ploy to spend more time with me, because I’d always been able to tell when he was being honest. Not that he’d ever been dishonest. Anyway, I’d agreed to do it, but now I wondered what I’d gotten myself into.

On the drive home he told me that he’d pay me for my time, and that we’d donate half of the profits to charities that worked to keep young kids out of gangs. I was touched that he was willing to do that, but also by the sentiment. He’d obviously spent a lot of time thinking it all through.

“I really want to do it for her, but I keep hearing stories about men who feel different afterward. Like they’re obsolete, not a man anymore.”

I brought my attention back to my customer. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-seven.”

I pursed my lips. “That’s very young. I’m not sure any doctors will agree to the procedure.”

“Maggie’s determined. She could nag any doctor into submission. I feel like I’m being bullied into it.”

I nodded sympathetically just as Yvonne walked out of the back office.

“I think you should tell your wife what you just told me. If she loves you, she’ll understand,” I said then walked to the other end of the bar to meet my aunt.

“Working late?” I asked as she slid onto a stool and let out a tired sigh.

“Yes. We need to start hiring some extra staff for the run up to Christmas. I spent half the day putting up advertisements online.”

I bit my lip, feeling bad about what I was going to say next. “Speaking of staff, I may need to cut down on my hours for a little while.”