Chapter 1
"Mr. Carter, don't let Mrs. Carter touch the perfume bottle I left in your car. A woman like her, who spends all day in the kitchen, definitely wouldn't know how expensive it is."
A sugary, affected voice came through the car's Bluetooth system.
I sat in the passenger seat, holding the silver perfume bottle in my hand.
Nathan Carter's face went pale. A second later, he reached for the Bluetooth controls.
I moved faster and pressed his hand down.
"Keep talking."
The line went quiet for two seconds. Then the woman let out a soft little laugh.
"Mrs. Carter is there too? I'm sorry. I didn't know."
"You didn't know?" I lifted the bottle in front of Nathan. "Then did you know he's allergic to perfume?"
Nathan swallowed hard.
"Claire, don't make a scene."
I nearly laughed, furious beyond words.
For six years, our house couldn't have scented candles, body spray, or fragranced hand cream.
When I was pregnant and throwing up so badly I could barely stand, I only wanted to buy one bottle of lemon dish soap. Nathan covered his nose and frowned.
"Claire, I can't breathe around that smell. Try to understand me."
So I gave in for six years.
I gave in until not a single piece of clothing in my closet carried any scent.
I gave in until my son's preschool teacher praised other moms for smelling nice, and he quietly asked me, "Mom, why do you always smell like the kitchen?"
That day, I went home and showered three times.
Nathan even said, "Don't listen to kids talking nonsense. You're fine this way. Down-to-earth."
To him, down-to-earth was just a kinder way to say plain.
The woman on the phone still hadn't hung up. Her voice turned soft and wounded.
"Mr. Carter, did I cause trouble for you? Should I come over now and explain everything to Mrs. Carter?"
"Explain what?" I pinned Nathan's hand down before he could snatch the phone. "Explain why your perfume was in his car? Or explain why you were sitting in his passenger seat?"
Nathan's face darkened.
"It's a sample from the company's new fragrance partnership. Mia is handling the account. She only caught a ride because it was on the way."
"A ride that put her in the passenger seat?"
"Claire!" He lowered his voice. "We're about to be late for Noah's parent-teacher meeting. Do you really have to pick a fight in the car right now?"
I looked at the back seat. My son Noah Carter was holding his backpack, his eyes red.
I put the perfume back on the center console.
"Fine. Parent-teacher meeting."
Nathan let out a breath of relief.
Just as he was about to start the car, I twisted off the cap and poured the entire bottle over his suit jacket.
A cloying floral scent filled the car at once.
Nathan froze.
"Claire Morgan, are you insane?"
I threw the empty bottle into his lap.
"Aren't you allergic? Let's see if it really sends you to the hospital today."
