Matthew didn't answer immediately.
Under the harsh hospital lights, he couldn't hide the exhaustion in his bloodshot eyes.
"The first time I noticed was the night the studio lost power," he said quietly. "The temperature in the materials room rose. The cedarwood on your skin warmed, and the gardenia appeared four minutes earlier than usual. I knew it wasn't a normal reaction to the fragrance."
I looked at him.
"What about afterward?"
"I knew every time."
After our first kiss, my heart raced whenever I approached him. In the formula notes, he wrote that close proximity had raised the temperature at the test site.
I once stayed beside him through a fever. The gardenia on my wrist smelled sweeter the next morning. He wrote that lack of sleep had altered my skin oils.
When he proposed,
