The Wedding Contract

“The wedding photographer should not sing,” my mother says over her shoulder.

“Don’t worry, I’m not.” Mom turns around again and the two remaining men manage another few notes before Nick winks at me.

He fumbles his tune and laughs loudly. “You won,” he gushes. “This guy beat me!” Nick goes on and on about how no one has ever bested him, as everyone claps. Sophie is giggling, watching them, and leans in to say something to Steven.

Nick manages to sneak out of the crowd and become a wallflower again. How does he do that? I’m leaning against the wall across from Sophie when he slips next to me. “So, let’s see it. What’d I make an ass out of myself for?”

I hold up my camera so he can see. Nick’s jaw literally drops and he slowly reaches for my camera. Since the strap is around my neck, I go where the camera goes. Turning, I stand way too close to him and unhook it from my neck. “Here,” I hand him the camera. “You don’t have to kill me to see it.”

He doesn’t speak for a moment, staring at the image. “Okay, how did you do this?”

I smirk. “Trade secret.”

“Oh come on, at least give me a hint.”

Taking my camera back, I shake my head. “What? And give you more ways to put me out of business? I don’t think so.” I wander away, not expecting him to follow, but he does. There’s nothing left to shoot, but I keep shooting so I don’t have to talk.

“You keep saying that.”

“Because you keep doing it.”

“What exactly am I doing?” Oh God, his blue eyes are hypnotic.

I look away. “You stole three clients from me this month.”

His voice is warm and playful. “It’s just business, Sky.”

“Not when you attack every folder-holding-person who walks out of my store. What’d you offer them, cookies if they came inside?”

He steps in front of me, but I don’t stop walking until he’s there. So, I basically crash into him, my camera still in front of my face. “Trade secret.” He winks at me.

I roll my eyes and shoulder past him. “You’re a dick. Find your own clients and stop stealing mine.” I worked so damn hard to get those people into my studio and all he has to do is snake them when they walk back out. Meanwhile, I’m the one who paid for the ads and worked my ass off at shows and bridal expos to get them there.

He stops following me, but I can feel his eyes on my back. “You’re talented.”

I hold up my camera like I belong on a Wheaties box. Whatever. Like talent even matters anymore. Although, it’s nice to hear him say it. This industry is overrun with people who don’t know what they’re doing. I’ve heard a million sob-stories from brides after the fact: ‘my pictures are blurry,’ ‘my photographer didn’t show up,’ ‘everyone is green.’ It’s hard not to laugh at the last one. Screwed up white balance makes everything the wrong color. It’s the error of a novice. Sophie and Steven’s wedding has difficult shooting conditions, but I’m looking forward to the challenge. When I glance back at Nick, he’s gone.





CHAPTER 10





I linger at the dinner long after everyone else is gone. It’s part of evading my mother—The Plan. It sounds more dramatic that way and? since she makes everything dramatic, it suits her. She left with the rest of the guests a while ago. I said I was lingering to check lighting conditions in the chapel and outside. It’s a total lie, but I don’t want to go back to the room yet either. Nick gets under my skin so badly I want to burn him off. Ferro brat.

I wander out of the main building. The grounds of the hotel are sprawling. They take up a good chunk of the island. Since the sun has set, and there are only scattered landscaping lights, it’s pretty dark. I’m not concerned—not the way I would be in the city. Walking through Manhattan’s streets after midnight, alone, loaded with gear is stupid. I currently have over two grand worth of camera stuff on my body. And that’s my new net worth: whatever’s on my body. I don’t know how to tell Amy that I’m going to need to let her go. Oh, God, I’m going to have to let Amy go.

The salty air blows gently across my cheeks, lifting my hair, and I wish time could freeze. I’d live out here if I could. Places like Shelter Island resemble little coastal towns from a hundred years ago, but with modern luxuries.

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