Page 118 of Perfume Girl

“Astor—”

“I need to put this right.”

“I’m sorry it ended like this.”

“Why does it need to end?”

“It’s gotten complicated and I want you to know I didn’t expect it to go this way.”

“What way?”

“Being with each other…caring about each other.”

“Don’t drive toward the storm. Promise me, Raquel. Forget the rest and just be safe.”

“I have to go.” I ended the call and stared at my phone, tears stinging my eyes as I tried to convince myself I was doing the right thing.

With no time to waste I finished packing, sealed my suitcase, and dragged it down the staircase, being careful not to scratch the hardwood panels. I rolled it outside and shut the front door.

Quickly, I made my way to Damien’s car idling in the driveway. He was texting on his phone. When I reached the BMW I banged on the window to get his attention.

He lowered the window. “All done?”

“Are you sure it’s okay to drive in this?”

Damien smirked. “We have six hours before the hurricane hits, so yes.”

“The benefit of knowing a weather girl,” I mumbled miserably, throwing my suitcase onto the back seat.

Chivalry really was dead. Though at least Damien was willing to drive me home, I quietly mused, taking one final glance at Astor’s beautiful home.

Maybe it had been him who had hidden my ledger in his sister’s office safe. There was too much doubt surrounding me and I’d risked so much to get my book back.

I climbed into the passenger seat and pulled the seatbelt around me as a burst of lemon scented air-freshener brought on a wave of nausea. Damien’s betrayal was now anchored to that stark citrus smell.

In a flash of inspiration I reached into my handbag and pulled out my ledger. Damien looked at it and then smiled at me. “That your notebook?”

“Yes, would you do me a favor and keep it safe for me. It contains all my formulas.”

He reached over and took it from me and then turned to place it on the backseat, right next to Embry’s beach bag. “Anything for you,” he said. “You know that.”

“Just for a day or two.”

His gaze swept over Astor’s home. “Let’s get you out of here.”

I nodded in agreement, though it hurt like hell. My time in South Beach, with Astor, had been the happiest days of my life.

MAYBE IT WASRAQUEL’S SCENTlingering on my skin or the new masterful cologne she’d created that I’d dabbed on my wrist to remind me of her, or maybe it was how she had eased into my life effortlessly that made forgettingusimpossible.

Raquel had changed my world irrevocably and this was the reason I refused to imagine her no longer in it.Damn it, I needed to know what I’d done to have her literally run out of my life.

When a man drives hundreds of miles into the eye of a storm these are the questions he asks himself: Why her? Why now? And how the hell had I lost her so suddenly?

I’d avoided emotional attachments before but Raquel had broken down my barriers and gotten to the core of the man I was. Seeing myself through her eyes had brought me a sense of belonging for the first time.

You should have told her that.

I’d realized too late she was the light that had been missing in my existence; the beauty I’d spent years trying to elicit from creating artificial moods in bottles, formulas to stir the soul and inspire love, the elusive all-consuming affection I’d failed to experience.