Three Years Later

The office door creaks open softly. I don’t bother lifting my eyes from the paperwork—I already know it’s Giselle. First, because she’s the only one allowed to walk in without knocking, and second, because her scent always gives her away—magnolia, peony, amberwood, and something uniquely her.

“What’s going on, sweetheart?” I ask, eyes still fixed on the stack of reports in front of me.

“How did you know it was me?” she pouts playfully.

“You’re the only ...