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’mflying 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?”
