Page 14 of The Scent of Intuition
“That’s not true! The crate we transported Chromius in was—”
“It was bigger!” Alfie jested, and they both burst into laughter. “There!” He tugged at both sides of the cravat, and Nick turned to face him. “You look like a groom a high-born lady would have.”
“I’m very lucky to have found Pippa,” Nick said with a mix of sadness and relief as he sighed. “But I’ll still miss you.”
“I’m not going anywhere. You’ll see me at work every day,” Alfie said. And it was true; he’d never do anything to risk the practice or the apothecary. Whether Nick would leave and live with his wife—as any adult man should—or whether Alfie’s heart was being stabbed by the thousands of reasons why he couldn’t go after the woman who’d caught his affection, there was nothing he’d do to risk what they’d all built for the past decade. It was a taboo point, risking the practice. There just was nothing important enough—not even his heart.
“Pippa doesn’t want me to change my work schedule just because I’m marrying a Duke’s daughter.”
“But she’s transforming her castle into a rehabilitation center.” Alfie arched his brows. There’d be much change, whether Nick realized it or not. Commoners like him and Nick couldn’t ascertain what it meant to be a Ton member, especially not a diamond of the first water.
Oh, Bea…Alfie tried not to sigh like a smitten green boy.
“One more thing,” Nick reached into his pocket and produced a small box upholstered in brown velvet with a swirly gold K embroidered on it for Klonimus, the name of the jewelers. “Could you keep this safe and be my best man?”
“I thought Felix was your best man.”
“And Andre. Yes, I need three.”
“That’s unusual.” Alfie flattened his lips and tried to swallow the lump that suddenly formed in his throat.
“We’re unusual. Pippa doesn’t mind. I need you all close to me.”
Alfie’s heart plummeted. Nick was nervous. Understandably. He was about to marry a duke’s daughter in one of the largest English country estates and she was the richest heiress in the country. Plus, she was kind, intelligent, beautiful, and absolutely devoted to him. Picturing Pippa under a veil with a bouquet in her hands made Alfie strangely proud on Nick’s behalf. But then it occurred to him that he’d be right next to them. “Who’s her bridesmaid?”
“Bea and Wendy.”
“Oh no!”
“Wendy will walk me down the aisle; she’s my sister. Will you escort Bea then?”
Escort Bea? In a pretty dress and surrounded by flowers with all their friends and families watching? No!
“It’ll be my honor.”
So this was his punishment. A lifetime of seducing women, lighthearted trysts, and an easy way with the most beautiful of them all ended in a macabre journey down the aisle with the only woman he wanted more than all the others and could never have. He’d offer his arm, walk her down the aisle, and instead of vowing to love her forever, he’d stand a yard to the side and then watch her from the sidelines. It was too cruel.
“I’ll change out of this and come to eat. Felix made lamb with roasted parsnips,” Nick said. “Smells good.”
Alfie’s stomach grumbled. He hadn’t eaten since—come to think of it—he hadn’t eaten since the ball the night before. A realization dawned on him, quiet and profound. His body might not hunger for food, but his soul… his soul was starved for something far more vital. For connection, for the spark that had ignited between him and Bea. The discomfort in his stomach wasn’t from hunger, though; it stemmed from a newfound need, one that craved not just the presence of Bea but the intertwining of their lives.
*
After making hishair presentable, Alfie descended the stairs. He could hear the friendly voices: Andre’s heavy Italian lilt, Felix explaining the spice notes of the marinade he’d cooked up, and Wendy’s laughter. He paused for a moment on the threshold, taking it all in. The table was a patchwork of plates and glasses, mismatched in a way that spoke of many hands contributing what they had. Around it sat the people who had become more than friends; they were his chosen family since he’d lost his own in a tragic accident at sea. Each face in the kitchen turned to greet him with smiles that reached their eyes and tugged at his heart.
There was no formal place setting, no sense of ceremony. Instead, an open chair awaited him, as it always did, a silent testament to his place among them. He moved toward it, the weight of the day’s worries shedding from his shoulders with each step. Laughter and voices, rich with affection, wove through the air, a melody more heartening than any song. He found his sanctuary within the clatter of dishes and the savory scent of the stew simmering on the stove.
As he took his seat, the conversation enveloped him, easy and unforced.
“Have you noticed the teachers this year are beautiful?” Andre nodded appreciatively. “I wish I could go back to school sometimes.”
“After all this time studying, you’d still choose homework over adult life?” Wendy asked with her motherly tone of the only woman at the table. “I suppose the only true adult here is my brother.”
“Hear, hear!” Felix raised his glass. “To Nick, being the first of us to grow up and get married!”
They raised their mismatched glasses and clinked them against each other. After Alfie took a sip of the cheapest wine anyone could ever find and considered pouring it over the vegetables as vinegar, he noticed that Felix was stabbing at the parsnip on his plate.
“Do you have some dispute with that poor parsnip?” Alfie raised an eyebrow. Getting no response, he wondered what had Felix so annoyed. Time for a change of subject.
