Damn, I thought. Sitting in the sunshine with Grace laughing and joking, it feels like heaven.
27
Grace
“You didn’t tell me you were bringing your new toy!” the bride exclaimed when Chris and I arrived at the venue for the surprise anniversary party.
“I’ve upgraded,” I joked, giving her a hug.
“You know, I just wanted to tell you that I appreciate you even more after I saw my friend’s wedding photos.” She lowered her voice and shook her head. “Seriously, I don’t know what that photographer was doing. My poor friend. Somehow she looks like her skin has a blue tint.”
“Bad lighting,” I said. “And probably the wrong color temperature flash.”
“My photos look great. And I told her to call you and see if you could at least do some bridal portraits.”
“I’d be happy to!” I replied.
“But when is your wedding?” the bride asked.
“Er…actually I already had it,” I admitted.
“Yeah, but that was on TV! I just watched the episode when it aired the other night. Crazy! You’re way more adventurous than me. But you can’t have your only wedding be the one where Chris shows up half drunk. You have to have a real one and invite me! Or are you thinking of divorcing him?” Her eyes widened.
I swallowed. “It’s complicated, but yeah.”
“Why! He’s so good-looking, and I bet he’s amazing in bed!” she exclaimed.
“Er…well…I haven’t gotten that far…”
“Do it!” the bride insisted. “I know you; you work all the time. You were answering my insane three a.m. emails. You need something awesome in your life, and Chris looks like he’s six-foot-five by nine inches of awesome.”
“Actually probably closer to ten,” I said, thinking back to the time I saw him practically naked under the sheets.
The bride’s eyes bugged out.
“You can’t divorce that! At the very least, test-drive the car.”
“It’s complicated,” I croaked, trying not to think of those ten inches of awesome.
“It’s sex! It’s not that complicated!”
“I never realized how much work went into being a wedding photographer,” Chris said, leaning back in his chair at the restaurant. We were on the outdoor deck overlooking the bay, pretending to be restaurant patrons. Really I was in position to get the money shot when my latest client proposed to his girlfriend.
“My feet hurt, and a kid threw a piece of celery at me.”
“The little monsters get hyped up on sugar and excitement, and they run wild,” I said. “I could tell you some horror stories about children and weddings. There was one that was a showdown between a cherry Popsicle and a toddler versus a bride and her white dress.”
“Let me guess,” Chris said. “The bride lost?”
“Yep. She had to wear her reception dress for the ceremony because Brea could not clean out all the cherry stains.”
“Do you ever get tired of it?”
“Of what?” I asked, taking a bite of the handmade tagliatelle while I tried to keep an ear out for when the proposal was happening.
“Weddings,” Chris asked. “Weekend after weekend. The same lines, the same drama.”
“No,” I said, twirling the pasta around my fork. “Every wedding is special in its own way, and honestly I love it—I love the pageantry, I love the dresses, and I love the flowers, and each bride’s unique spin on the decorations.”
“But surely,” Chris pressed, “the majority of those women aren’t actually marrying because of love. They just want a wedding for the pictures on Instagram.”
“I am a very important piece of the wedding puzzle,” I said, pretending to flounce my hair. “Not to pat myself on the back, but photos are what the bride and groom are going to have twenty years from now.”
“If they’re still together.”
I shrugged. “Sometimes life happens. I’m not judging. Hell, I’m about to get a divorce,” I reminded him. “But the wedding is bigger than the pageant or even the couple expressing their love. It’s about family. A lot of times, the entire clan is only able to all assemble together for a wedding. It’s like a reunion, a banquet, and a ball all wrapped up into one amazing party!”
Chris was silent for a moment. “Are you sad your wedding was shitty?”
I grimaced. “All weddings are special in their own way.”
Chris snickered. “That’s very diplomatic of you.” He looked down at his fork then back up at me under those long lashes.
“So after this is all over, you won’t hate me for ruining your big day?”
I took a sip of wine. “To be honest, that’s probably the only wedding I’ll ever have. The first date I