Page 81 of The Little Shop of Curiosities, The Music Box Part 2

He hands me a box of tissues so I can clean myself up, then I wipe the folders as best as I can. “Sorry.”

After tying off the condom, he wraps it in a tissue and chucks it in the bin. Then he tips my chin up so I’m looking into his eyes when he drops a soft kiss on my lips.

“Totally worth it. We just won’t tell Hadley.”

I huff out a laugh and start to straighten my clothes, as does Sam. I’m just pulling my sweater back on when my gaze lands on a chart pinned to the wall behind his desk, one I’d missed when I first walked in.

It looks like some kind of timeline with colour-coded dates. There are a handful of them sparsely scattered, but the bulk of them seem to be centred around one date in particular.

“What’s that?” I ask, pointing to the chart.

“It’s a timeline of all the paranormal cases. I asked each of them when they first noticed abilities developing. Each colour represents a different gift, telepathy, dream-walking, the power of suggestion, visions. Although some are more recent, like Riley’s developing in the last six months, the majority of them started here.” He points to a specific date. “There’s nothing before then, so something significant must have occurred at this point.”

I stare at the date, unease settling in my stomach.

“What?” Sam asks.

“That’s the day I arrived in London,” I say quietly. “What are the odds? A coincidence like that?”

He stares at me for several long seconds. “Coincidence,” he repeats as he studies my face. “You know,” he says almost conversationally, “the other day, Danny and I managed to track down one of the nurses who was on duty the night Vivienne gave birth to her son.”

My spine stiffens, and I casually edge around the desk to put some space between us.

“What has that got to do with it?”

He purses his lips. “She said that the kid was delivered by a young doctor who left the hospital’s employment abruptly after and moved out of London. With. His. Husband.”

“You think there aren’t loads of gay doctors in London?”

“She said his name was Hayden.”

“A common name.”

“Harrison,” he says, and his tone makes my stomach churn. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

I involuntarily clamp my lips together and shake my head defiantly.

“You’ve been so adamant all along that Vivienne’s son had nothing to do with her death. How could you possibly know that?” He tilts his head as he watches me. “You know, I’ve asked myself so many times what the connection is between you and the Crawshanks, an extremely powerful magical family. You. Why is it you’re able to see Cordelia’s memories?”

I don’t answer. I can’t.

Why is he doing this now? Why do I have to claim kinship to a woman who never wanted me and to a family that have caused nothing but trouble for centuries? These past few weeks have been the best of my life, despite the murder investigation hanging over everything.

Sam and I have connected in a way I never thought I’d have. Someone who accepts what I am, not only accepts but understands. Being lovers, being friends, being partners while we investigate these paranormal cases has been beyond perfect.

I don’t want everyone to know I’m the son Vivienne abandoned. I just want it all to go away. I want to stay in my perfect little bubble with Sam.

“You know I didn’t get it at first.”

“Get what?” I can’t help but ask.

He turns around and retrieves a paper tube, but when he unrolls it and spreads it out on the desk, I see it’s a map of London. It’s marked with a multitude of coloured dots, just like the timeline mounted on the wall, only it’s locations this time. There are some rogue ones on the outskirts, but overall there are two main clusters.

“This”—Sam points to the first cluster—“is centred around the Crawshanks property in Whitechapel. And this”—he points to the second–“is Islington.” He lets the map go, and it rolls back up as he looks at me. “It’s centred around your shop…around you.”

“Sam.” I move my lips, but almost no sound comes out.

“I’m going to ask you again, Harrison. Is there something you want to tell me?”