Dylan: SOS. I need your help.

Evelyn: Oh no! Did you get your Johnson stuck in your fly?

Dylan: What? No. How is that the first thing you thought of?

Evelyn: I heard it’s a common predicament for gentlemen.

Several weeks went by and Dylan and I started tentatively working on our scent. We were still in the ideas phase, so we hadn’t really settled on anything yet. Most of the time we just hung out, either at my place or his, sometimes in his office, and talked about anything and everything. In between the anything and everything was where the ideas sprung to life.

It excited me to talk about flowers again, to think about the scents we could use and the possible combinations. I wondered what Sam would think of it all. He’d probably tell us to stop being all mushy and sentimental, but secretly love the attention.

Dylan was becoming as familiar to me as he’d been when we were teenagers, except without the sex. After that one night, he’d allowed me to set the pace. He never pushed for anything other than what I was prepared to give, which just kind of melted my heart. Though admittedly, it was agonising to be around him and not, you know . . . do things. Especially when he kissed me goodbye. How we’d pulled away breathless time after time. It had almost killed me to send him away. Every. Time.

The problem was, sex made everything complicated. It made me feel like my emotions were running the show, rather than my head, and I wasn’t ready to give up that sort of control.

Dylan: Well, thankfully I’ve never had that problem. I need you to clear your schedule this Saturday to come Christmas shopping with me.

Evelyn: Why can’t you be a normal person and shop online?

Dylan: Because I prefer to shop in person. Also, my dad’s coming to visit and he’s bringing Bridget. I need your help finding her a gift.

God, could he be any more adorable?

Evelyn: How exciting. Okay, I’m in.

Dylan: You have an odd definition of excitement.

Evelyn: No, I don’t. I’m putting my money on her being a hot twenty-something with a thing for older men.

Dylan: I hate you.

Evelyn: Mwah ha ha. Okay sorry. That was evil.

Dylan: You’re forgiven. See you Saturday.

I paired my cosiest black yoga pants with a long burgundy woollen jumper before heading out to meet Dylan for our planned shopping trip. I figured I’d kill two birds with one stone and do something Christmas shopping of my own. Not that I had a whole bunch of people to buy for, just Yvonne and Dylan. Maybe Conor, too.

I also wanted to buy decorations for the apartment. There was another week before people put up their trees, but I wanted to be prepared. Maybe I’d get one of those mini trees with the fake snow and lights.

Dylan stood by the entrance to the department store wearing a long black coat, a navy scarf and leather gloves. He was probably wearing the most clothes I’d ever seen him in, and yet, he managed to look sexier than I’d ever seen him look. It was ridiculous. And unfair.

I wanted to grab him by that sexy scarf and pull him into a private corner.

“Could this city be any more Christmassy? Usually, I’m such a Grinch, but all these twinkle lights are really putting me in the mood,” I said as I approached.

He grinned and arched an eyebrow. “In the mood, huh?”

I slapped him on the shoulder. “Get your mind out of the gutter.”

His answering chuckle was smooth as chocolate. “Hey, you make it too easy.”

I slid my arm through his as we walked inside. “So, here’s the deal, we can get your gifts here, but afterward you have to come downtown with me.”

“There’s lots of affordable stuff here,” Dylan argued.

“We’ll see,” I grumbled.

“If you can’t find anything, I promise to take you downtown.”

He winked, a twinkle in his eye and I narrowed my gaze. I elbowed him in the side, about to reply when I was distracted.

“Oh my God, is that a chocolate fountain?”

I led him to a window display and Dylan chuckled. “Let’s do our shopping first and then we can get excited about chocolate fountains.”

My only response was an overly dramatic frown and sad puppy eyes.

He pulled me along. “You’re cute. We can come back this way when we’re done.”

Over an hour later we’d managed to find something for everyone. Dylan bought a cashmere scarf for Bridget, a new watch for his dad, and some brightly coloured socks for Conor. I got Yvonne a Gucci perfume set that was on sale, mostly to rile Dylan, plus some glitzy decorations for the apartment. I didn’t need to go anywhere else after all.

We were still in the cosmetics section when Dylan paused in front of the perfume counter. There was a collection of testers on display, one of which was E.V. Dylan shot me a sneaky glance.

“I’ll take this one,” he said to the girl. She didn’t bat an eyelid, only nodded and rang up the purchase.

Like most perfume designers, the majority of people knew the brand name Dylan, but they didn’t know what he looked like, not unless they were in the biz. I mean, I had no idea what Issey Miyake looked like, or Paco Rabanne, but I knew their names. I guess that was a good thing. It meant Dylan could still live a moderately normal life. I definitely didn’t think he’d enjoy all the pomp and ceremony of being famous.

He came back to me and held out the bag. I quirked a brow.

“Why on earth did you just buy a bottle of your own perfume?”

His smile was infectious. “It’s an early Christmas gift. Here, take it.”

I stared at the bag. “You could’ve just given me a bottle from your shop.”

“Well, this way it’s a proper gift that I paid for,” he said, coming to place the bag over my arm with the others.

I blinked. For some strange reason, I was extremely touched by the gesture. Looking away, I walked over to another counter, feigning interest in some face cream.

“You’ll have to tell me what you think when you try it,” Dylan said, standing next to me. I was struck with an urge to reach out and take his hand in mine, twine our fingers together.

“Sure, I’ll let you know.”

“Your opinion is very important to me, Evelyn.”

“And yours is important to me,” I whispered, still not looking at him.

We stood like that for a minute, side by side, just letting the noise of shoppers wash over us. When I finally glanced up, Dylan’s eyes almost brimmed over with affection. My heart skipped a beat. I couldn’t believe we were sharing this oddly intense moment in the middle of a busy department store. It was moments like this, when even though we were surrounded by many I felt as though I was alone with Dylan, that I saw how easily we fit together. He’d become my best friend again. Friend. Dylan was way more than that, but for now . . .

I cleared my throat and stepped away. “We should go get pizza.”

“Pizza?”

“Yes, believe it or not, I haven’t eaten any New York pizza yet. I’m pretty sure it’s some kind of sacrilegious offence.”

Dylan chuckled softly. “In that case, follow me. I know just the place.”

* * *

“Oh my God.”

“I know.”

“No, seriously.”

“Seriously.”

“This is so good.”

“It’s the best.”

“I never knew you could make heaven with only three ingredients.”

We stood outside a tiny hole-in-the-wall pizza place, devouring our little slices of heaven. I finished mine off in record time and wiped my mouth with a napkin.

“I’m still hungry. We should get hotdogs for dessert.”

Instead of arguing that they weren’t dessert food, Dylan simply nodded his agreement and hailed a taxi. We were dropped off outside Central Park, purchased two hotdogs, then wandered inside for a stroll. We just finished eating when we came upon a small flower stall. I was attracted to the poinsettias, moving to admire them. Dylan joined me and bent to breathe them in. His expression turned thoughtful as he urged me to smell them, too.

They smelled very, very faintly of pine and something quite vague underneath, something that reminded me weirdly of turpentine. I said as much to Dylan.

“Well, turpentine comes from pine trees, and poinsettias have a pine-like scent so . . .”

I studied him as his words trailed off, thoughts racing behind his eyes.

“What are you thinking?”

Those eyes came back to me. “Remember during our brainstorm last week, when we thought about combining freesias with fig leaf and tiare flowers? I think this is the missing link.”

Freesias had always been Sam’s favourite, which was why I’d suggested them. Everything else we’d chosen was to complement their sweet, honey-like scent.

“We’d need to smell them all together to be sure,” I said, invigorated by his sudden enthusiasm. There was liveliness in his expression I hadn’t yet seen, a creative flow.

Without a word he went and purchased a bunch of poinsettias from the lady manning the stall, and before I knew it we were in a taxi heading to his house. We still had all our shopping with us, and it was probably about time I got home, but I was too curious to see if Dylan was right about the poinsettias. I’d become thoroughly invested in creating this perfume and I wanted it to be incredible just as he did.

When we arrived at his place, Conor was out. I set my bags on the floor and flopped onto the couch, exhausted after being on my feet all day. Dylan went into the kitchen. I could hear him moving around and it sounded like he was digging in the cupboards. When my curiosity got the best of me, I finally dragged myself off the couch and went to investigate.

Dylan had some sort of copper contraption all set up on the counter. It reminded me a little of those Turkish water pipes they have in cafes.

“What is that?” I asked and stepped closer to take a look.

“It’s a copper alembic. I use it to distil my own essential oils.”

“Oh,” I said, intrigued. I took a stool and watched as he fiddled around with it, adding water and setting it to boil. “Do you make all your own essential oils for your perfumes?”

“For the initial designing process, yes. Usually, I have a lab to do all this. I’ve been meaning to rent one while I’m here, but I haven’t had the chance.”

He glanced at me for a second, his gaze heated and my chest warmed.

I brought my attention to the copper contraption. “So, how does it work?”

Dylan gestured to the part that boiled the water. “Steam distillation extracts the aromatic compounds from the plant. The combination of heated steam and pressure helps release the essential oil from its microscopic protective sacs. The vapor mixture flows through the condenser and cools, creating a layer of oil and a layer of water. The oil rises to the top and is separated from the flower water and collected, which is the part we’re after.”

I nodded, weirdly aroused by all this science talk. What was wrong with me?

“How long does it take?”

“Depends on the plant, but usually about a day, give or take.”

“That’s a long time.”

His lips twitched at my groan. “Which is why I was so keen to start the process.”

“Well, what the hell are we gonna do while we wait?”

He smirked. “I can think of a few things.”

I narrowed my gaze and tried not to smile. “I bet you can.”

We stayed locked in a moment until the door opened and Conor walked in. My skin beaded everywhere Dylan looked, even though I was wearing a giant knitted jumper.

“Hey Ev. I didn’t know you were coming over,” Conor greeted cheerily as he came inside.

I blinked and turned away from Dylan. “It was spur of the moment thing, but I actually have to get going,” I said and went to collect my shopping bags.

“Tell Yvonne I said hi.”

“Will do.”

Dylan, ever the gentleman, grabbed my coat as I picked up the shopping and was ready to put it on me when I got to the door. He leaned down to kiss my cheek.

“I wish you could stay. I don’t feel as though I’ve had enough time with you today.”

“We’ve been together all day, Dylan,” I chided with a smile, but I knew what he meant. It was so easy to be with him, and I didn’t want to leave either if I was being honest. Still, it was better to go than stay and just want more and more time with him. He only continued to stare at me, all tender and warm. I cleared my throat.

“I need to get home, but thank you for an incredible day. My first Christmas shopping in New York. It was as magical as I hoped.”

“The pleasure was mine.” He kissed my lips softly, and I didn’t want to step back. I wanted to step forwards into his arms and be held and caressed. I wanted to be engulfed by him. I loved his respect for me, but a part of me hated it too. This is the right thing for now, Ev. The right thing for you.

“I’ll see you soon?”

“Yes, love. Let me know when you’re home,” he added in his best father voice. He always knew when to bring a moment of humour.

“Yes, Dad,” I said, chuckling.

When I did get home, I went straight to my bedroom, exhausted. I changed into PJs, sent Dylan a quick text, then made myself some tea. I wasn’t really hungry after the whole pizza followed by hotdogs indulgence. Crawling into bed, I replayed the day’s events in my head, unable to stop thinking about Dylan when he discovered the poinsettias. He’d been enthused, full of life, his entire form vibrating with creative energy.

Then I remembered him buying me the perfume as an early Christmas gift. Curiosity got the better of me and I climbed out of bed, opened my wardrobe and pulled out the small gift bag. I tore away the protective plastic and opened the box to remove the bottle of E.V. My hand shook as I uncapped it and pressed down on the nozzle.

Scent filled the room and I closed my eyes, inhaling deeply. My pores tingled, the hairs on my arms stood on end, and every part of my heart filled with memories. This was the perfume Dylan made at school, only better. The scent was . . . sophisticated where once there’d been the naivety of a novice.

It was . . . glorious, sumptuous, a medley of wonder.

Pictures flashed in my head, all solicited from the bold notes of jasmine, the sweetness of the echinacea and the sudden pop of anise.

I saw us on the roof of the Villas, so young and innocent, falling in love.

I saw us spending every day together, full of passion and excitement to have found someone that fit us so perfectly.

It amazed me how something so simple, just a combination of scents could propel me through a porthole into the past. And if I concentrated hard enough, I could pretend I was back there, just for a little while.

I could be in a place where I was happy, a moment captured in time, before everything changed.