CHAPTER SIX
Rory
A fire crackles in the hearth next to my table in the base lodge of Empyreal, keeping the chill of sitting by a window at bay. My laptop sits open in front of me while skiers and snowboarders meander through on their way to the slopes. I work outside the office as often as I can because where’s the inspiration in staring at a blank wall or out a window—no matter how great the view is? I’m constantly on the hunt for a new angle, a new image, a new idea that’ll drive traffic from social media to our website and draw more people to this mountain I love so much.
The days I’m on the slopes, camera in hand, are the days I relish this job. I get to partake in some of my favorite activities all in the name of “work,” and that never gets old. But then there’s all the days in between. The days when I’m knee deep in TikTok trends or Instagram reels when I’d rather be knee deep in the snow. Those are the days I feel an itch in my palms to reach for my camera and not let go.
I look over the top of my screen and spot a couple snuggled up in the corner in their ski gear. The dwindling snow falling just beyond the window, light filtering through just enough to highlight their smiles before they kiss… I know I could capture it perfectly behind the lens. I look back to my laptop and, ignoring the work I should be doing, click open the Photoshop tab. Pictures of the elopement I shot last weekend fill my screen. We’d gotten a dusting of snow the night before, so the sparkly layer of white that meets me in the images is mesmerizing and ethereal.
A few months ago, Jamie asked me to take photos while he officiated an elopement for his friends John and Bree, and I jumped at the chance. It was just a favor and a perfect excuse to be around something I’ve always loved: weddings. We had such a blast with the first one that we’ve done a couple more, but always under the guise of it being “for fun.” It’s not like I’m trying to change jobs or anything… it’s just a hobby. I shake my head and smirk. Imagine? Mom and Dad would have a field day.
I sigh happily and scroll through the images, remembering every little touch, smile, and kiss as the bride and groom said their vows. Watching two people declare their love for each other helps me feel more connected to it. Especially since the romantic kind of love seems to be on a permanent vacation from my life lately. I guess I thought by the time I was twenty-seven, my life would look a little different. A little less lonely.
Wes is in Australia and my parents are—well, my parents. I have friends, and Jamie’s like a second brother, but none of that is the same as having someone to call my own. I want a person —my person. I dated a lot in college, searching for that, but no one ever fit the bill.
Then there was Kyle, and the failure of that relationship still hovers around me sometimes. Not because I miss him, but because of what the breakdown between us cost me. Mom and Dad introduced us—he was the son of one of their associates and it made them happy to see me with someone they felt was appropriate. But I wasn’t happy. I couldn’t be myself with him—which shouldn’t have come as such a shock, what with our origin tale being what it was.
I didn’t need one more person controlling my life, controlling me. The breakup was more than the two of us splitting—it marked the end of a dream for our parents, and it didn’t go over well. Mom and Dad lost friends (read: business associates) and it was “all my fault.” All those years of constantly trying to please my parents and that was what fractured it in ways I never expected. I’m still trying to fix those broken pieces, and it’s been over a year.
I haven’t gone on a single date since.
I click into the finished file for a different elopement we did right around Thanksgiving. We hiked up a trail that gave us a perfect view of the lake in the background, and then clambered out onto a huge rock where Jamie stood before the couple and declared them man and wife. Yes, they trekked in full tuxedo and wedding dress, with hiking boots, and they smiled the whole time. So did I.
Some days, the concept of finding a love like that seems so far out of reach, but then I take photos like these and it feels attainable again. Like if these people found it, then maybe I can too.
I want more of that feeling, but I also know Jamie can’t take on more elopements. He’s busy promoting his new book and once he starts writing the next one, he’ll be holed up in his home office. One or two a month is the most he can swing. Not that I have time for more either. I need to focus on my real job. I’m good at it, and I should be content with that. Even if I suspect it’ll never make my heart soar the way capturing these couples in the most beautiful location on earth does.
I shake my head and, with a growly sigh, click the tabs closed. This can only ever be a hobby. It’s not going to pay my bills. It’s not going to keep my parents happy—though that outcome feels more and more out of reach every day anyway.
A ding from my email draws my attention and I open it, an ironic laugh bubbling up. It’s an inquiry about shooting an elopement. Of course it is. They’re also friends with John and Bree, and their date is in February. This puts us at six word-of-mouth bookings since we did theirs. I pull my phone from my hoodie pocket and text Jamie.
Me
Whatcha up to February 27th?
Jamie
I don’t know, why? Planning to pay me back for having dinner with your parents this weekend?
I groan, having forgotten about the dinner entirely. Poor Jamie. They’re better behaved when he’s there, but it won’t be pleasant. If they had their way, Jamie and I would be married by now and I’d have a “real” journalism job with a publication somewhere. We’d be a power couple: the published author and the published journalist.
I’m never not disappointing them.
Me
What do you want? I’m pretty sure I owe you my firstborn at this point.
Jamie
Hmmm, still pondering, but I promise it’ll be good. So, what’s happening on the 27th?
Me
You up for another elopement?
Jamie
Yeah, sure, I guess.
Me
Sound a little more enthusiastic why don’t you.
Jamie
Sorry, I just had no idea this would become such a thing. I’m surprised is all.
Me
You and me both. Sounds like they got my email from Bree.
Jamie
I can make the 27th work. I’ll put it in my calendar now.
The dots jump and fall on the screen as I wait for him to say something else, but instead my phone rings.
“Hey,” I answer, sliding my earbuds into my ears and pulling up my calendar.
“Hey,” he says, an air of caution in his tone.
“What’s up?” I ask, knowing all too well he wouldn’t have called if he didn’t have something more on his mind.
“I was just wondering. These elopements. I know you love them, and I love doing them with you, but what’s your endgame here?”
“What do you mean?”
“Like, is this your way into the photography world? Are you hoping to take this full-time?” He sounds wary, probably because he knows how much I still secretly covet the opportunity.
“No. Not at all.” Lies . “It’s just a cool way to put my camera to use”— more lies —“and I feel like it’s a hobby that actually does someone some good, more so than taking pictures of people on chairlifts and sitting around fires in the snow.” Lies, lies, lies. He knows it too, sitting quiet a minute longer than he would if he believed a word of what I just said.
“Okay. I just—” Jamie breaks off. I know he wants to say “I just want you to be happy” or something like that. In the end, we both know it won’t change anything.
“I know.” I clear my throat. “So, the twenty-seventh is good, yeah?”
“Yeah, it’s good.”
“Start your next book yet?”
“Nah, taking a few more weeks off before I start. I’m working on a short story to pass the time.”
“Oh yeah? What about?”
“Scotland.” He says it like this isn’t a bit of a bombshell.
“Really?” I’m seriously shocked. He may have spent his first fourteen years of life in the Scottish Highlands, his now subtle accent only thickening to a true brogue when he drinks, but he rarely talks about his time there, and by rarely, I mean never . He did in the early years, when we were in high school. When he’d go back on summer breaks to stay with his grandparents. But he cut his trip short the summer before we started college and shut down every attempt I made to ask him about it. He hasn’t been back since.
“Yeah. It felt like a good idea at the time. Not so sure about it now.”
“Well, I think that’s great, Jamie. You going to let me read it when you’re done?” I love getting first dibs—perks of being best friends with the author.
“I don’t know. This one might be just for me.”
“Yeah? Well, I’m here if you change your mind.”
“Thanks, Rory.”
I hum and lean back in my chair. “I better go do some real work, especially if I want to get up on the mountain this afternoon. It’s a perfect day.”
We hang up and I stand to stretch, my legs feeling stiff. I rub my arms and look out into the sunlight that’s just breaking through the clouds. I have a perfect view of the learning hill and notice a jacket that looks familiar—it’s pink and grey and matches perfectly with the snow bibs I bought at Target. I place my hands on the sill and lean forward, squinting, and eventually confirm that it’s little Willow, sitting in the snow. Towering over her is Breck—though I can only really tell from the wispy blond hair sticking out at the base of his helmet. He mentioned last night that he was going to bring her out today for her first time.
I bite my bottom lip between my teeth and smile, watching them talk… Willow throwing snowballs at his feet. I’ve noticed the loneliness has felt less suffocating over the last few days, and I know it’s the newness of having visitors here and getting to show them around my home.
I wish I could grab the gear that’s strewn around me and join them, but this is their moment.
Breck pulls Willow to her feet and I sit back in my chair, focusing my attention on the reports in front of me. A few hours of charts and insights and then I can forget the numbers and make my way up the mountain. Then I can fly.