How the Light Gets In

by L.H. Cosway

  Dylan sighed. “Yes, but the business we’ll lose over the next few days still makes me break out in hives. My poor floor staff will have an awful time explaining to people that E.V. is out of stock.”

  I arched an intrigued brow. “That was your first perfume, right?” He nodded. “And it’s still the most popular?”

  “It’s a timeless scent,” he replied and looked at me speculatively. “I created it at a time when I was most inspired to make something meaningful.”

  “Oh,” I replied, wiping my mouth with a napkin and gathering our used utensils.

  I sensed Dylan studying me before he stated, disbelieving, “You’ve never smelled it, have you?”

  I met his gaze and shook my head, sheepish when I admitted, “Dylan, the other day when I tried Wildflower, that was the first time I’d ever smelled one of your perfumes.”

  There was a long moment of silence. Dylan’s eyes betrayed his emotions. He almost appeared . . . offended. No, that wasn’t the right word. Hurt. He was hurt I’d never taken it upon myself to try his scents.

  “You look surprised.”

  He frowned and glanced away. “I’m not surprised, it’s just . . .”

  “What?” I leaned forward in my chair.

  He rubbed his mouth with his fingers and stood up. He paced the room then came to stand in front of me. It looked like it took a lot for him to say his next words. “Each time I release a new perfume, I always imagine we’re having a conversation.”

  “You and me?” I was taken aback.

  “Yes.” His voice was passionate. “I think of you going into a store and trying it on. I amuse myself wondering what you think, which products are your favourite.” He shook his head. “Were you not even a little bit curious?”

  More than anything.

  “Of course I was curious, but I was already so jealous of everything you’d achieved. I guess I didn’t want to know how amazing your perfumes were, because it would only make me feel like more of a failure.”

  “That’s ridiculous. You’re not a failure.”

  I huffed a self-deprecating breath. “Tell that to my bank account.”

  “Evelyn, if it weren’t for your influence, I might never have become what I am today. You do realise that, don’t you?”

  I flushed and stared at my hands, unsure how to respond. Dylan moved about the room, going to different shelves and plucking out various bottles.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Introducing you to a world you helped create,” he replied with fervour. I watched as he placed each bottle in front of me, then opened the scent named Synaesthesia. He knelt before me, took my hand, then turned it over to expose my wrist. He gave a soft spritz and fresh jasmine assaulted my senses, plunging me into memory. It had always been one of my favourite flowers to grow, had seemed so exotic and pretty in a place that was neither.

  “When we were teenagers, you sometimes smelled like jasmine,” Dylan said. “Then you told me how you liked to make jasmine water in the mornings. When I smell this scent, I think of you pottering around your flat, watering your plants and putting the kettle on for tea.”

  “It’s beautiful,” I breathed, overly aware of Dylan’s fingers that still circled my wrist. It was hard to get my head around the fact that my humdrum, mundane existence inspired a perfume thousands of women around the world wore every day.

  He plucked up another bottle, Hiraeth, uncapped it and sprayed it on my other wrist. I inhaled and closed my eyes. It smelled like a rainforest; I could literally feel the fat drops of water hit my face, run down my neck and pool at the base of my spine.

  “Remember that weekend I came back to Dublin for Conor’s graduation?” Dylan murmured. His eyes traced the line of my wrist, ran up my arm to rest on my face. “You got caught in the rain.”

  “It was pouring down,” I added, falling through the rabbit hole of memory. “And then you just appeared.”

  His eyes sparkled, his smile intense when he said, “That day was when Hiraeth was born.”

  Chapter 6

  Eight years ago

  I stood by the bus stop in the rain, no other choice but to get soaked. I made the mistake of leaving the house without an umbrella, so it was my own fault really. It was rush hour, and the shelter was already full of people huddled under, trying not to get wet.

  Currently, I was working as a supermarket cashier. It wasn’t the most exciting job in the world, but at least I got a discount on groceries.

  Yeah, not very glamourous, but life wasn’t glamourous, not for the hoi polloi. Weirdly, I used to think that meant the upper classes, then Yvonne told me it was Greek for the common people, the rank and file. I guessed, because it sounded a little like ‘high people’ I made the wrong assumption.

  Anyway, that was me. Your average worker bee, plodding her way through life, dissatisfied and a little sad, but not dissatisfied and sad enough to make a change. To be honest, happiness seemed like a lie made up by fairy tales and self-help books. Now my eyes were open to all the dark corners that hovered around the light.

  Like the dementors in Harry Potter, they waited for their chance to swallow you up. That’s why I didn’t bother trying for anything good. Good things were only taken away.

  Like Sam.

  I shook myself out of my dreary thoughts and wriggled my toes around in my soaked shoes. I looked forward to stripping off and sinking into a nice, warm bath as soon as I got home. Yvonne worked tonight, so I’d have the place to myself. I’d pop a ready meal in the microwave, and maybe even open a bottle of wine . . .

  “Evelyn?”

  I blinked, distracted from my plans for the evening when I heard my name. I glanced up and my jaw dropped. Dylan? He held a large black umbrella and wore a dark winter coat and woollen hat. It was hard to make him out past the fat drops of rain obscuring my vision. They pooled in my eyebrows and fell into my eyes.

  I blinked some more and stared at him. I hadn’t seen him in over three years. When he first left for the U.S., he’d sent monthly letters keeping me updated on how things were going. It was so Dylan to do something completely old school like that. Still, I never wrote back. I knew it sounded cruel, but staying in touch only prolonged the pain for both of us. Eventually, he got the message and quit writing.

  In a way, I was disappointed.

  In another way, I was relieved.

  No contact was so much better than getting sneak peeks of his new life and feeling down that I wasn’t with him.

  Finally, I managed to get some words out. “Dylan, my goodness, what a surprise.”

  He lifted a thumb and pointed over his shoulder. “Yeah, I’m, uh, staying at the hotel across the street. It’s great to see you.”

  “You, too,” I breathed, though great wasn’t the right word. Startled was a better one. The hotel he pointed to didn’t look so fancy. In fact, it was downtrodden and old, the brickwork in need of a new paint job. Maybe life wasn’t going as successfully for Dylan as I often imagined it was.

  His gaze followed mine and he grimaced. “It’s not as bad as it looks.”

  “Hey, I still live at the Villas. I’m in no position to judge.”

  His lips twitched as his gaze travelled down my drenched body and back up. I was overly aware of the raindrop that sat at the tip of my nose. I wanted to wipe it away, but I was too self-conscious to do it with Dylan staring at me.

  When I didn’t speak again he said, “Aren’t you going to ask what I’m doing here?”

  No, Dylan, I’m not, because I’m too embarrassed to be standing here in the lashing rain, wearing my cashier’s uniform, cheap shoes, and name tag.

  I felt so small. Why did you bump into old flames when you looked your absolute worst? It was one of God’s twisted celestial algorithms that made it happen to everyone at least once in their lives.

  I cleared my scratchy throat and asked what he wanted me to ask. “What are you doing here?”

  Dylan smiled, completely at ease. He didn’t l
ook at all uncomfortable or frazzled like I was sure I did, even with the fact that he was staying in a crappy hotel. He stepped closer so that his umbrella sheltered me, an unexpected and kind gesture. “I came back to visit Dad,” he replied. “He’s still living in Galway with his brother, got a job down there and everything. I took the train here last night.”

  “Are you staying long?” I questioned further, curious now.

  He shoved one hand in his pocket. “Just for another two days. It’s Conor’s college graduation tomorrow, so I thought I’d kill two birds with one stone.” He paused, handsome eyes grazing my features. “And of course, I was going to come pay you a visit.”

  “You were?”

  “Why wouldn’t I?”

  I swallowed, feeling guilty. “I just thought, since I never replied to your letters—”

  “Ev, I understand why you didn’t write,” he said, eyes full of compassion.

  But it still hurt, didn’t it?

  It certainly hurt me not to reply. I cleared my throat and stared up at him. “Yes, well, I hope everything’s going well for you in LA. I mean, you’ve got a tan now, so it must be going okay at least,” I teased, trying to lighten the mood.

  “Why don’t we go over to my hotel, and I’ll make you some tea. We can have a catch up?”

  The offer took me by surprise, and I glanced around for a better option. Strangely, I did want to catch up. I just didn’t want to do it in the confines of what was sure to be a tiny hotel room. “How about we go to the café down the street instead?” I suggested and pointed a few buildings down.

  Dylan’s cheeks coloured as he realised how his invitation sounded. “Right, yes, sorry, let’s go to the café,” he said and offered me his arm.

  I linked mine through his and internally freaked out at how close we were. I could smell his cologne, faint as it was. When we reached the café, Dylan shook out his umbrella and left it by the door. I quickly excused myself to the bathroom to dry off and have a private little freak out.

  He looks as gorgeous as ever.

  You look like a drowned rat.

  But he’s staying in that hotel.

  He can’t be doing that well for himself.

  And it’s not like I need to care what I look like.

  We’re not together anymore, nor will we be ever again.

  Just go out there, chat like a normal person, and wish him well with the rest of his life.

  When I returned, Dylan sat at a table reading the menu. I lowered myself into a chair and clasped my hands together. “So—”

  “What can I get you two?” a waitress interrupted, and I flushed for no apparent reason.

  “I’ll have tea,” Dylan answered.

  “Yes, tea for me, too,” I said, then added, “Oh, and a scone, please.”

  The waitress left and I looked back to Dylan. “They have really nice scones here.”

  He smiled. “I’ll remember that for next time.”

  “Was the flight awful? It must be terribly long to come from California,” I said. If I just kept asking mundane questions, maybe I’d relax more.

  “It was a little under eleven hours, but I kept busy. Boredom is the real challenge on long flights.”

  “Did you watch any movies? I hear they have TV screens on the seat in front of you with a choice of films.” Dylan’s gaze softened. He must’ve thought me terribly quaint now that he was living over there, but I couldn’t help my curiosity. I’d never been on a long-haul flight.

  “Yeah, there are screens. I prefer to bring a good book with me though. If I start reading at the beginning of the flight, I can be almost finished by the time I arrive at my destination.”

  “What did you read?”

  “The new Stephen King.”

  “Oh, I heard that’s a real page turner.”

  Dylan nodded. “I enjoyed it.”

  Silence fell and I scrambled for something else to say. The waitress came with our order, and I busied myself spreading jam on my scone.

  “How’s Yvonne and your gran?” Dylan asked, eyes never leaving me. I was distinctly irritated by how much more relaxed he was.

  “Yvonne’s good. She’s going to New York in the summer. Gran is as good as can be expected, but I’m starting to feel like the home’s not a good fit for her anymore. I’m considering having her move in with me after Yvonne leaves, but I still need to figure out the logistics.”

  Dylan’s brows furrowed. “Won’t that be a lot of work?”

  “There’s a carer’s allowance I can apply for so I can care for her full-time.”

  “Those allowances are notoriously low, Ev.”

  “Well, I don’t mind that. So long as we have enough to get by.”

  His brows furrowed even deeper and I got the sense he wanted to say something but was holding back.

  “What?” I asked.

  Dylan looked out the window a moment then back to me. “I just think you can do better.”

  “Who’s to say caring isn’t doing better? It’s one of the most important jobs a person can commit to. It’s society’s fault for belittling it and making it so low paid.”

  His expression gentled. “No, you’re right. I’m sorry for saying that.”

  I frowned and clasped my hands around my teacup. “Anyway, tell me about LA. Is it everything you hoped it would be?”

  He rubbed his jaw. “It’s certainly different. I knew it was going to be hard over there, but I may have underestimated just how difficult. I’m trying to start my own business, and I’m full of ideas, but getting together the start-up capital has been tricky.”

  “Oh, I’m sure you’ll convince some banker to lend you the money.”

  Dylan’s eyes crinkled in a smile. “It’s a little more complicated than that.”

  “You’ll figure it out.”

  “Great pep talk.”

  “You’re welcome.” I grinned and ate a bite of my scone.

  We were quiet for a little while, just letting the sounds of the busy café wash over us. I couldn’t stop looking at him every chance I got. I was fixated by the way his tight-fitting jumper hugged his arms, how his sandy hair curled at the temples. When he caught me looking, I flushed and fiddled with my napkin.

  “Why don’t you come with me to Conor’s tomorrow night? He and some of his college roommates are having a party at their flat to celebrate graduating.”

  I shook my head. “Oh, no I couldn’t—”

  “Ev, I’m leaving in two days, and who knows when I’ll be back to visit again. It could be years. Just give me one night.”

  Man, he was hard to resist, especially with those gorgeous eyes of his pleading with me to say yes. I exhaled. “I don’t get off work until eight tomorrow.”

  “Eight is fine. I’ll pick you up outside.”

  “How do you know—?”

  He motioned to my name tag, which had the name of the supermarket at the top. Right. I let out another long breath. “Okay, but I can’t stay long.”

  “We’ll be there three hours, tops,” he said, smiling wide because he’d won me over.

  “Two hours,” I corrected and stood, pulling out some money to pay for my tea and scone. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Dylan lounged back, his expression effortlessly sexy as he watched me go. “See you tomorrow, Evelyn.”

  What, oh what was I getting myself into?

  * * *

  I brought a change of clothes to work with me, hoping to have enough time to change and do my make-up before Dylan arrived to pick me up. I was about two hours into my shift when I saw him walk through the sliding glass doors. What the hell was he doing here already? It was only three o’clock.

  I continued to scan items, watching him before he noticed me. He looked around, eyes skimming the newspaper headlines before they headed my direction. My breath caught, and in that moment I knew. I was in trouble. I was so determined to keep my emotions out of this unexpected reunion, but I couldn’t help it. My heart beat fast and m
y palms tingled just remembering how I’d linked my arm through his yesterday. How without a word he’d sheltered me from the rain with his umbrella. It was little gestures like those that were just so Dylan.

  He waited until I was done with my customer to approach, his smile sheepish. “I know we agreed eight o’clock, but I just wanted to stop by and bring you this.” He held out a takeaway cup and a paper bag. I took both items shyly and opened the bag. It was tea and one of the same scones I’d had yesterday.

  Flutters invaded my insides.

  It was a simple gesture, but it really got to me. Maybe because my life had been devoid of any kind gestures for a while now.

  “Thank you,” I said quietly.

  God, was I going to cry? I needed to get my shit together.

  Dylan shoved his hands in his pockets, eyes intent on mine. “Right, well, I guess I’ll see you later then.”

  I nodded. “Yep, see you later.”

  I held my breath until he walked out the door. Michelle, one of my co-workers at the next till, shot me a grin, “That your boyfriend?”

  “Ex,” I said.

  She let out a low whistle. “If I had a fella who looked like that I wouldn’t have let him go for all the tea in China.”

  No, Michelle, I don’t believe you would.

  Sometimes, unfortunately, you had to do away with selfishness and let people go, for their own sake if nothing else. I sipped on my tea and continued taking customers, saving the scone for my break.

  Later on, while slipping into a little black dress and heels in the bathroom next to the staff locker room, I wondered if I should just cancel. I was nervous for two reasons. One, because at the age of twenty-one, I’d never actually been to a college party, and two, because I was in danger of doing something silly if I had too much to drink.

  Like kissing my ex-boyfriend.

  Probably best to stick to Coke tonight.

  I let my hair down and put on some make-up. When I was done, I shoved the rest of my things in my locker and put on my coat. The night-time chill tickled at my ears and the tip of my nose when I stepped outside. Dylan stood next to a lamppost waiting for me, handsome as ever.