“Har, har.” I roll my eyes.
As her amusement wears off, her smile softens, and I’m given a glimpse of the girl I’d had the chance to cook dinner for all those nights ago. My chest tightens when I realize that one day, she’ll find someone else to cook her dinner. And I’ll be left alone, on my own, with only the memory of my wife to keep me warm at night. A small part of me wonders if it’ll be worth it.
“So…about those babies,” she says, breaking the silence. “We’d need to have their parents sign some waivers allowing them to be photographed. And we should probably schedule a time that works for you where we can go over the logistics and everything. Are you heading this project up or…?”
“I’m the president of the board, so, yes. I can make the executive decisions for this.”
“Perfect. Is there a time you’d like to get together to discuss all the details?”
She’s cute when she’s talking about photography. Her eyes are shining, and her cheeks are flushed with anticipation. She looks good enough to eat. Clearing my throat, I shake off the inappropriate thoughts and answer, “Sure. How does lunch sound?”
“Sounds great. Is there a day that works for you?”
“How about Saturday?”
“I think I can squeeze you in,” she teases. “Do you want to come to my house, and I can pull up some photo shoots I’ve done in the past so we can narrow down a look or a theme that you want to go with?”
“Yeah? I mean, whatever you would recommend?”
“I think you should definitely come over and check out all of the options before deciding what you want. That way, we can be on the same page, and I can make sure you get exactly what you’re looking for. I’ll make sure to give you my address before I leave.”
Make sure I get exactly what I’m looking for.
If only I knew.
I want to laugh, but keep myself in check. “No need. It's in your chart.”
“Oh. Good point.”
“Thanks again for helping with this.”
She smiles, and it damn near lights up the whole office. “Thanks, again, for hiring me. Now, I can afford that lens I’ve been drooling over.”
With the elephant in the room already discussed and the promise of lunch on Saturday, the rest of the appointment goes by in a flash. And I’m left feeling lighter––and happier––than I’ve been in a long time.
I just can’t decide if I’m okay with that or not.
13
Marcy
The doorbell rings.
And my heart stops.
Licking my lips, I brush my hair away from my face, then open the door.
“Hi.”
“Hey,” Ben returns with his hands in his front pockets.
“Did you have any trouble finding the place?”
“Thanks to Google Maps, I didn’t have any issues.”
There’s a teasing smirk on his face that tells me he’s feeling the same strange sense of déjà vu as I am.
I just can’t decide if that’s a good thing or not.
Opening the door a little wider, I invite him inside. “Good ol’ Google. Come on in.”
“You have a nice place,” he notes, casually scanning the small front room. The house is a little older and doesn’t have quite the same open feel as newer homes, but it has character in every piece of original hardwood flooring that more than pays for the tight hallways.
“Thanks. It’s not a mansion in the woods, but I’ll take it.”
“Har, har,” he replies with a smile. “Sorry I didn’t bring anything––”
“You mean like a bag of rolls?”
He snorts. “Exactly. I should’ve brought a bag of rolls.”
“It’s a newbie mistake, so I’ll let it slide this once.”
“How considerate of you.”
“Mmmhmm. Don’t get used to it, though. I was thinking that if we get hungry, we can just order some takeout or something. My computer is in my office. I can show you a few different options for the photo shoot back there. Follow me.”
With a sweeping gesture, he motions to the narrow hallway that leads to the back of the house. “Lead the way.”
The worn floors creak as he follows me down the hall where two rooms are tucked away. One is the master bedroom, and the other is my makeshift office. Rounding the antique desk, I sit in a soft, yellow armchair then motion to the matching one beside me.
“You’ll be able to see the screen better from over here,” I explain.
His silence is followed by compliance as he takes the seat next to me. I’ve never noticed how close together the chairs are until this exact moment. I can practically feel his body heat burning my arm as I rest my elbow beside his. Or maybe I’m just so aware of Ben’s presence that it feels like the room is shrinking. Regardless, my heart is galloping in my chest, and I don’t know how to make it slow down.
With a quick glance in his direction, I wiggle the mouse in front of me and wake up the dark screen on my desktop.
“So, uh…we can do all black and white with a classic feel.” I click on a black and white image that showcases a sleeping baby swaddled in a soft gray blanket. “Or we can do something a little more bright and cheerful. We can use yellow, pink, and green backgrounds.” Pulling up another picture, a little girl stares back at us. She’s probably close to a year old and is sitting up with a hot pink tutu around her waist and the sweetest, biggest grin I’ve ever seen. Add a bright orange background, and the little girl pops. When he doesn’t say anything, I ramble, “Or we could do themed poses for every month based on the holiday. So, like an Easter Bunny in April, stars and stripes for July, a pumpkin or a cute baby ghost for October. You get the idea.” I click again and show him a few examples. “We could do all silly faces….” Click. “Or maybe even like a bloopers-themed calendar. So, we would still do the themed shots, but we’ll use the ones where they spit up, or where they have a sour expression. That kind of thing. Does that make sense?”
Click.
Click.
Click.
And do I sound like a total idiot right now?
I feel like I’ve been talking to myself during this entire pitch.
Gaining the courage to glance over at him, I find his mesmerizing brown eyes staring back at me instead of analyzing the pictures I’d been pulling up on my computer.
“Ben?”
He blinks. “Yeah. Sorry. Uh…can you repeat that?”
With a breath of laughter, I give him my spiel a second time while praying he can’t see the color in my cheeks as he leans forward to take a closer look at the images. The heat of his arm brands mine as they rest beside each other, but I don’t pull away. I’m too frozen to move a muscle while hating how much I love our close proximity.
Sighing, a very sheepish Ben turns back to me and gives a helpless shrug. “I have no idea, Marce. They all look really good to me. You’re quite talented.”
“I don’t know about that….”
“I do. These are all amazing. And just hearing you talk about photography…I can practically feel your passion.”