“It’s due diligence,” I mumbled.
The corner of his mouth lifted as he brushed his knuckles across the swell of my cheek. “And even though you whisper the subtitles to yourself.”
I shrunk down a little, my shoulders level with my ears. I forgot that I did that, honestly. “It helps me follow along.”
I noticed the contrast in our hands. My fingers were short with chipped nail polish from my pre–New Orleans manicure with Ruby. His palms were broad with long, delicate yet strong fingers. I liked the way my hand disappeared inside of his.
“It’s something to consider. That’s all. Take as much time as you need.” He used the same calm, almost clinical voice I’d heard him use with residents when they stopped him in the hall to ask about a rash or an unusual dream they’d had. It wasn’t a patronizing tone. No, it was a tone I took comfort in now. A tone that said someone had answers and, for once, it didn’t have to be me. It was the same feeling I got when I took my mom to the ER toward the end. For so long I had hated that place, but at the end, they would take her back and for a little while I could at least find comfort in the fact that she was looked after and I could just take a moment to breathe.
I nodded and tilted my head up.
He swiped a thumb across my jaw and dipped his tongue out to wet his lower lip.
I felt the pull between us, my body so ready to lose itself in him. To make out in this room on our lunch hour like a couple of teenagers.
Just as I was about to give in to his touch, I remembered the thing that had been on the tip of my tongue since last night.
“The candle,” I finally said.
He pulled away slightly, blush coloring his cheeks. “That.”
“Tess seems to think there’s a story there.”
“Tess shouldn’t start rumors,” he said. “Especially ones that are true.”
My mouth spread into a slow grin. “Okay, now you have to tell me.”
“Back in college, I may have observed that you were a fan of cucumber melon body spray.” He laughed softly. “It reminded me of the mall, honestly.”
“Well, thatiswhere I bought it.”
“Fair.” He nodded. “But after a while, the smell reminded me of you. The mall reminded me of you. Brody would come home from hanging out with you and the faintest trace of it would linger on his T-shirts.”
My finger traced the shell of his ear as his gaze drifted between me and a faraway past.
“Mind you, this was at a time when I couldn’t decide if I was fascinated by you or wanted to put my head through a wall every time you spoke. So it was a little frustrating to be... assaulted by this scent at random.”
“‘Assaulted,’ you say? What a strong word.”
He rolled his eyes. “Is this my story or not?”
I nudged his shoulder with the side of my head. “Go on, go on.”
“Well, you know everything that happened between us, so by the time I started med school, the scent was cursed. It took a few years, but eventually I noticed that I didn’t smell it as often as I used to. Either because of changing trends or time. I don’t know. Then two years ago, I was in Bath & Body Works with Brigid on Christmas Eve getting her mom something for Christmas.” His eyes dropped down to his lap. “And I recognized that smell.”
“Two years?” I asked. “That candle’s lasted you a good long while.”
“Well, I bought the candle. Telling myself it was just a curious nostalgia. But then I burned through it and went online and ordered a little supply of them.”
“Oh.” Now it was my turn to blush.
“And if you’re wondering why I’ve kept it in my bathroom... the reason is as depraved as you think.”
I gasped softly, feeling inappropriately turned on in the middle of the work day. “That is... incredibly hot.”
“You mean incredibly stalkerish?” he asked.
I weighed that thought, my head tilting back and forth. “Stalker lite,” I confirmed. “But in a hot-Lifetime-movie sort of way. Like stalker role-play.”
