“No offense, Krista, but I think you’re mistaken. I’m just another girl to him.”
“No offense, Marcy, but I think you’re the one who’s mistaken,” she replies gently. “He’s slept with a lot of women since Kate died. Like…a lot. We didn’t ever really talk about it, but I knew. He’d always shut me out for a few weeks afterward like he felt guilty or something. I don’t think he’s ever felt anything during any of those encounters, though. If anything, they fed the numbness, blanketing him with that blissful novocaine that could keep him living in a world where he didn’t have to face the truth. That the love of his life was buried in the ground.”
It’s as if she just twisted the knife in my chest, making it hard for me to breathe.
“I don’t know why you’re telling me this,” I choke out.
She sighs. “Look, I know he doesn’t deserve it, but I’m asking you to give him another chance. I’m begging you to,” she clarifies. “He feels something for you. I know it. Something real. And something scary for a guy like him because he was sure he’d never feel that kind of connection ever again. But he does feel it. With you.”
“And what if you’re wrong?” I whisper.
“Maybe I am. All I know is that he’s hurting. He’s hurting bad. And the only thing that I can think of to fix it is for you to forgive him for one of the biggest mistakes a guy could ever make.”
Ya think? I want to shout, but I bite my tongue before finally admitting my greatest fear while vowing not to let it come to fruition.
“Krista, I’m not going to live in your sister’s shadow.”
“I wouldn’t expect you to. But I would like to think you’d give the guy a little grace while he figures out how to let one girl go in order to hold onto another one.”
Shiiit.
When she puts it like that…I don’t even know what to think. Is she right? Does he deserve my forgiveness? Could he actually feel something for me?
Blinking back tears, I check the time on the clock and notice I’m going to be late if I don’t get out of this freaking car and face the guy who’s occupied all of my thoughts since my first doctor’s appointment.
“I have to go,” I mutter while turning off the ignition.
“I understand. If you ever want to talk, or if you ever want me to try to explain where he’s coming from when he can’t…you know who to call.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Okay. Thanks for letting me take a few minutes of your time. I’ll talk to you later, Marcy.”
“Yup. Bye, Krista.”
“See ya.”
Then I hang up and stare at the looming warehouse in front of me.
How the hell am I going to face him again?
My hands are shaking as I snap another picture to test the lighting before I scroll through the handful of images and tweak the white balance a little more. Vision blurry, I keep staring at the screen on my camera even though I don’t register a damn thing. My heart is racing. I can feel him watching me, but he’s kept his distance since I showed up thirty minutes ago to set up the backdrop.
The soft scuff of his loafers against the concrete of the warehouse makes me hold my breath as he strides toward me.
“Hey, Marce?” he murmurs, trying to keep his tone light. But there’s an underlying edge that hints he’s just as anxious as I am.
Good.
For some reason, it seems to settle my nerves long enough for me to glance in his direction.
“Yeah?”
“Almost everyone is here.”
“Okay.”
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
I blink slowly and try to wrangle in my emotions. “Nope.” My voice cracks, but I cover it with a fake cough. “I got it.”
Stepping a little closer, he whispers, “You sure?”
“Yup. You can even leave if you want to. I mean, I know that you’re busy and stuff. I can take care of everything here and just, you know, email you the final pictures.”
Freezing at my suggestion, he rocks back on his heels then hooks his thumb over his shoulder. “I’ll go grab the first model. Then I’ll be out of your hair.”
I nod, ignoring the surprise and hint of pain in his expression as I give him my back and snap another picture of the blank bubblegum pink backdrop.
A sweet coo from behind distracts me from my mess of emotions a few minutes later, and I grab onto the opportunity with both hands. The sweetest little baby girl with a giant gummy grin stares back at me as I greet the first family that Ben sent my way.
“Hi! I’m Marcy.”
“Hey. I’m Connie,” replies a woman around my age with soft brown hair and a kind smile. “This is Grace.”
“Aww, nice to meet you, Grace.” I raise my hand to the baby, and she grabs onto it with her tiny fist before trying to pull it toward her mouth.
For the first time since my disastrous night with Ben, a genuine smile tugs at the corner of my mouth.
“She’s the sweetest thing ever!” I gush. “Come on over, and we’ll get started.”
It doesn’t take long for me to get into the zone and forget all the pain from the week before. This is where I belong––behind a camera, capturing moments and memories and smiles and cries and every emotion in between. Snapping picture after picture, the weight on my soul begins to lessen until I shake Emerson’s and Grant’s hands a couple of hours later.
“Your handsome little man was a rock star,” I announce. “I think we have plenty to work with.”
“That’s it?” Grant asks like he doesn’t believe me.
“Yup. He was a champ.”
“Well, it helps when he has an awesome photographer to work with,” Emerson teases. “Thanks for inviting us to participate. This has been great!”
“I think so too. I’ll be sure to email you all the images of your little guy as a thank you for letting him model for me.”
“You’re way too kind, but we can’t wait to see them.”
“You and me both. Have a good one, guys!”
“You too!”
As they walk away, I change the backdrop from a warm brown to a dark red then scan the warehouse for my next baby model.
My eyes pop when I recognize the rock star in black leather boots, and the cutest baby propped on her hip. “Dylan?”
“Hey!” she greets me with a knowing grin. Her entire demeanor screams badass musician, and it’s almost enough for me to forgive her for her meddling with my love life. Or lack thereof.
“You didn’t tell me Sadie was going to be one of the models,” I accuse.
“There was a cancellation.” With a shrug, she strides closer, then lowers her voice and adds, “I wanted to check on you, so sue me. Besides, Dr. Bennett assumed you wouldn’t mind if I crashed your party.”
Unable to hide my discomfort, I cringe. “You talked to Ben?”
“Not much. I just said that Emerson and Grant were bragging that he asked them to bring their little boy in for the calendar, so I offered to bring Sadie as an alternate.”
“So you meddled,” I surmise.