Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
BENJI
“So, hypothetically, what would you say your perfect date is? If you had to pick something.”
Dammit, she’s adorable.
“Hypothetically?”
Paige flits around the studio, avoiding eye contact. “Yes.”
I don’t push, despite being obsessed with the way she blushes, and take a minute to watch as she gathers up jars and wicks and everything else we’ll need to make the order she’s set on getting my help with.
I’ve never had a desire to learn candle making, but I do have a never-ending one to be a part of her life, so if she wants to teach me, I’ll learn.
“As long as you’re there, I’m good,” I answer.
“I mean it. You have a whole dossier,” she says, and I still haven’t shared it with her. “And I’m flying blind here. You know I won’t mind what it is. I just want to make you happy.”
For a moment, I can’t speak. It’s as obvious as if the words were painted on my shop window, but I’m absolutely head over heels for her.
What we have now … it’s not starting over; it’s a continuation, something that’s beginning to feel solid under my feet, and I’ll do anything—anything—to not fuck it up.
“You make me happy.” It’s the truth carved into my core.
All that will be left of me when I’m gone—when my body becomes a memory—is the undeniable fact that I love this woman.
She’s the easiest person to talk to. I only wish I hadn’t waited so long to embrace it.
“I can’t name a perfect date because I want more than that.
I want a life with you. That’s what would be perfect to me. ”
Paige places the bundle of wicks on the counter and tugs on my shirt to bring me closer—an easy feat because it’s the only place I ever want to be. As easy as dipping my head down as she rises to her tiptoes to kiss me.
“You changed your shampoo,” I say.
She used to be a cacophony of smells, heady and intoxicating. Now it’s soft and mild, like a breeze wafting through a nearby garden. As sweet and alluring as she is.
She drops her heels back down. “Oh, uh, yeah, I …”
“I never thanked you—for not making me feel bad about it.”
“About what?”
I reach up and tuck her hair behind her ear. “My nose.”
Most people never know how to take it. It’s odd to them, but Paige has never been anything except kind.
“Why the hell would I make you feel bad about it?”
You wouldn’t. Because you’re incredible.
“You’ve built a business—a thriving business—on superpowered olfactory senses. You stopped using incense in the shop—”
She turns away, reaching for a jar and a microfiber cloth and busying herself by cleaning. “That was for Skye.”
“Paige.” We both know it wasn’t, and her shoulders settle as she accepts that I wasn’t fooled. “Thank you.”
Her gaze meets mine. “You’re welcome.”
Then … she puts me to work. We’re only making a handful of candles, and Paige hands me the wicks and walks me through sticking them to the base of the jar. I steal a kiss as often as she lets me.
We may get distracted for twenty minutes before Paige remembers what we’re doing. The taste of her smile makes it impossible to pull away, but I do.
Paige passes me a small pot with a spout and a handle. She’s biting her lip again. “Benji?”
“Yo.”
“Are you happy?”
I don’t even hesitate. “The happiest I’ve ever been.”
“Good,” she says, her voice small, and I need her to look over here so I can see what those pretty eyes are doing. “I want to make you happy.”
“Hey, come here.” I empty my hands and pull her toward me, catching her wrist and bringing it to my lips.
I kiss her palm, hold it to my heart. “I want to be with you because you’re amazing and I can’t imagine my life without you in it.
There are going to be days where I don’t feel great, and you will, too, because that’s just life, but no matter how I’m feeling, I don’t want to be anywhere else. ”
Her cheeks darken, and I swear, no color will ever mean as much to me.
“Oh,” she says shyly. “I feel the same way.”
Beneath my ribs, my heart explodes. I didn’t know love could feel like this. As though every day can only get better than the one before.
Paige clears her throat, and I release her hand.
“So, Bernie is great for big batches, but I still like the old way for one-off orders.” She pulls out a small hot plate, the kind that brings back memories of poor decisions and late nights in college, which are more of a blur than a memory to me now.
“There’s a saucepan by the sink. Can you fill it a third of the way with water? ”
I do as instructed, and Paige takes it from me when I return.
“When we started this place,” she says, “we used to experiment all the time in our tiny apartment kitchen, trying different scent combinations but really just making a mess. Then we didn’t want to stop.”
Paige sets the hot plate to a low heat. She takes two latex gloves from a nearby box, sliding one on herself and handing me the other. I pull it on.
“Now,” she says, gesturing to the giant tub of wax flakes beside me, “for these jars, we’ll need to measure out nine and a half ounces.”
With no spoon or tool at hand, I go ahead and use my hand to scoop out the wax into the waiting pot. It’s smooth, and it crumbles with a little pressure. “Huh. It’s a bit like sand.”
Her small laugh is like heaven. “Yeah, sorry.”
“No, I like it, I think.” It’s soft, like her.
“That should be enough,” she says.
Oh yeah, the scale. Fuck.
She’s standing close enough that I can smell the faint sweetness of her skin underneath the fragrance in the air, and it’s killing me not to bend down and taste her.
I could. Lap up the taste of her and the soft little whimpers she makes that fucking drive all the blood from my brain to my dick.
But as much as I want to tear her clothes off, I also want this—to hear her talk, uncover every memory until I know her as well as I know myself, maybe better. Because she’s all I think about.
Paige sets the double boiler up and stands back.
“Now we let it dissolve,” she says.
I take that as my cue to fill the time with her mouth. She melts so perfectly into me, wrapping her arms around my neck and meeting each kiss with one of her own, growing bold enough to tug at my bottom lip with her teeth.
If we want to get anything else done, we probably need to stop.
I give it another few kisses, just to be sure.
Somewhere along the line, Paige ended up in my arms, her legs wrapped around my waist. Yeah, we should probably check on that wax.
I lower her back onto her feet. “So, what next?”
“Um, right.” Paige giggles. “Uh, normally, this is where we’d add fragrance oil if we were adding any, but since we aren’t, we can pour them into the jars.”
“You don’t need to avoid it for my sake.”
But Paige won’t take no for an answer. “Skye already restocked yesterday, and if we run out of those candles while she’s away, I’ll make more.”
I watch her stir the melted wax, testing the temperature with a thermometer she clips onto the side.
“If you need help this week,” I say, “I’ll get someone to look over the shop. I only have a few commissions waiting to be picked up.”
She smiles but shakes her head. “As nice as it would be to see you, I want to see if I can do it. Want to know that I can.”
I get that. “Well, the offer’s there. You’re not the only one who wants some extra time together.”
A slew of brown bottles is lined up along a shelf in no particular order, their labels handwritten in either a neat script (Paige) or a hasty scrawl (Skye).
“Are these your potions?” I ask. One catches my eye. “Paige’s Obsession, huh?”
Her eyes widen. “Um, see, that’s, uh …”
And that pretty much settles the question of me smelling it. I pull it down immediately and open it. At first, all I’m hit with is smoke, and I have to pull back, but once it settles, I know it’s not smoke I’m smelling, but specifically a fire. Oak, and cedar, and …
“Is that sage?”
“It’s what your shop smells like,” she says, ducking her head, and I fall a little bit more in love with her.
I could blame the lump in my throat on the oil in my hand, but it’s hard to deny the tears that I can feel welling up. The first escapes before I can stop it, and instead of brushing it away, I let it roll down my cheek as I place the oil back on the shelf.
Paige asked for vulnerability, and this is as real as I get.
Gently, she wipes it away with her thumb. “The wax is ready, if you want to pour it?”
“Sure.”
As I start to pour, she asks, “When did smells start to bother you?”
I promised to be an open book to her, and it seems she’s made it her mission to get as much information from me as possible.
It helps that I want to give it to her.
“My mom was anxious about germs. I couldn’t move without being wiped down with disinfectant. Sometimes, I swear I woke up with Lysol burning down my throat; it was so thick.”
“You seem okay with them, apart from the whole tidy thing.”
I huff a laugh that’s more of an acknowledgment than actual amusement.
“Yeah, well, whenever she thought it was safe enough to let me out of the house, I made it a mission to get as messed up as I could to prove she was wrong, but it backfired pretty quick. My immune system took a while to sort itself out.”
“It must have made it hard to hang out with your friends.”
Or even have friends. “Yeah,” I admit. “It was.”
Paige links my free hand with hers, and I gently squeeze my thanks into her palm. In a mirror of what I did earlier, she brings our joined hands to her lips and smiles. I feel it all the way down to my bones.
“Everyone else has only tolerated it,” I tell her. “Or wanted to change me. You’re the first person who hasn’t. It’s nice.”
Paige gestures for me to finish pouring. “You’re the first person to make me feel interesting.”
I can’t pour and look at her, which is why I suspect she waited until I was busy to say anything. “Skye doesn’t …”
“Oh, Skye loves me, but we both know she burns brighter than I do.”
“Not to me.”
“I know.” She smiles. “I like that. Being special to you.”
“You see me,” I say. “I’ve never had that before.”
With the last candle poured, Paige uses a peg to keep the wick in place. I set the pouring pot to the side.
“I don’t want to mess this up, Paige.”
“We won’t.” Paige puts the last peg in place and grabs my face in both hands, her hold as steady as her words. It’s reassuring. “We’re in this together, right? So, it’ll take two of us to break it, and I’m not going to let you.”
“I’m not going to let me either.”
“Well, good.” She rises up on her toes to kiss me when my cell starts to buzz on the counter.
“It’s Isaac.” I’m already smiling as I answer because the guy just bought a ring, so there’s only one reason he’s calling me right now. “Hey, man. It’s not the best time. Can I—”
“Benji.”
And, fuck, he sounds wrecked. Raw, like someone reached down his throat and pulled his heart out with their bare hands.
Oh no.
“She left me.”
“Fuck.” My heart plummets to the concrete floor. No wonder he’s devastated. I know what I need to do, but …
I look at Paige, who’s biting her lip, which I know she only does when she’s nervous. Dammit, I can’t leave her. Not again.
“Isaac, give me a second, okay?” I ask him, and I have to interpret the sound he makes as agreement.
I hold the phone to my chest and meet Paige’s worried gaze.
“Rebecca left him,” I explain. “But I don’t—”
“You should be there,” she says, insistent. “I know you want to.”
“What about—”
Paige pulls my free hand to her lips, kissing my knuckles. How could I ever think about leaving this perfect woman? I’ve only just gotten her back.
“We’ll be okay,” she says.
I don’t realize how much I needed to hear it until the relief is knocking the wind out of me. This is the real test. We were never going to be able to avoid problems entirely. I just hoped it would be later.
But if we can get through this, if we can handle it—as a couple—then there’s no doubt it’s forever.
“I’ll text every day.” I’m not leaving her. It’s not like last time.
“You’d better,” she whispers. “Now, you need to go pack.”
I pull her in for a kiss, deep and slow, allowing myself one final taste of her before I head back to my shop. I need to lock up and leave instructions and call people and … fuck.
“You still there?” I ask Isaac.
“I don’t know what happened, Benji. Everything was going great; we were talking about driving up to Julian the next time we visited you and spending a weekend up there.”
“The kids would love that.”
“Yeah.” He sighs. “Then she says she’s not ready for kids. She thought she was, and she kept saying how much she loves them, but she has more life to live—whatever that means. Fuck, the kids are going to be devastated.”
“When are you going to tell them?”
“I don’t know. Fucking soon, I guess. Daphne keeps asking when Bec is coming back, and I hate lying to her. This is so hard. I really thought I’d found her, you know?”
“I know.” Fuck. “Look, I need to get someone to look after the shop, but I’m coming, okay? I’ll be on the first flight I can get.”
I drag a hand over my head, fucking pissed that I have to leave Paige, but I don’t have a choice. Isaac needs me. I have to trust it’ll work out.
“We’ll get through this,” I tell him, hoping like hell it’s true for both of us.