Page 127 of Perfume Girl

He hesitated. “After my dad died my mom thought it best I live in a country with a culture that ran in my blood.”

“Astor,” I encouraged softly.

He broke my gaze. “I don’t remember much. Not really.”

“Have you blocked the memories out?”

His expression was conflicted.

“How did your dad die?”

Astor’s somber gaze held mine. “Under tragic circumstances.”

“How do you mean?”

He sighed. “My past is my past. I leave it there.”

I reached up and cupped his face. “Did he hurt you?”

“He destroyed everything in his wake.” Astor looked away. “Can we talk about something else?”

“Okay, um, tell me something about you I don’t know.” I got up and carried our plates over to the sink.

Astor pushed himself up. “What are you curious about?”

“That’s not how it works. Go on, impress me.”

“I once went scuba diving in Egypt’s blue hole. It’s one of the most dangerous places you can choose to dive.”

“Are you an adrenaline junkie?”

“I was twenty. I’d just come back from England and was reckless. I hadn’t seen my family in a long time. I was working through a lot. I missed England and yet I wanted to be home. I didn’t feel like I fit in anywhere. I bought the place on the beach you stayed in and that helped a lot. I prefer it.”

“Why didn’t you come home for a visit while you were in England?”

“I was discouraged from doing so.”

I frowned at the cruelty of it. “Do you feel like South Beach is your real home now?”

“Yes.”

“Are you happy?”

Astor went to speak but couldn’t seem to form the words.

“Oh, Astor.”

“You lost your mom, too, right?”

“Yes, while I was in my first foster home with Mrs. Clark.” I spoke her name fondly, because she had been kind despite me not being her own child. “I was sent to live with her because of the incident that drew attention to how my mum wasn’t caring for me properly. I was taken away from her. That was the last time I saw my mother before she died.”

“I’m sorry, Raquel.” His tone carried sympathy.

I still felt guilty about the incident in our garden shed. I had brought it on myself. Had I stayed quiet and not gone out as my mother had wanted, I would have been with her at the end. Instead, she died alone in that old house because of me.

I gave him a sad smile filled with regret. “I was making perfume in the shed. I was nine years old and not meant to be in there.”

“What happened?”