Chapter 3
"A lright, and start walking," I instructed.
The family of four moved slowly towards me, broad smiles stretching their faces as they held hands in the warm sunshine. I traced my steps back carefully, clicking away as I watched them through my lens. I stopped now and then to change their pose or to adjust my camera settings before resuming my shots and instructions.
The winter sun warmed my back, even though the air had a bite to it. I usually had family portraits booked in the summer when the sun was likely a guaranteed sure thing and a helluva lot hotter. The kids could bust out their cute dresses or shorts, and the parents in their most fanciest summer dresses and shirts.
Fall was my favorite time to shoot, though. The mugginess in St Louis faded and was replaced by cooling winds. Autumnal colors spread out in a kaleidoscope of gorgeous browns and reds. If the sun was out, it would illuminate through the trees, creating a mystical and eerily beautiful backdrop.
I rarely received a request for an outdoor family photo session in winter, so I was curious and slightly excited when a booking came through for the Miller family. When they described their farm with big open spaces and gorgeous trees and foliage, I was immediately inspired. A million and one ideas burst through my creative mindset and I eagerly started planning.
Their kids were outdoor babies and comfortable in any weather. That suited me well. I loved dealing with kids and most of them enjoyed having their photos taken. But there were a select precious few who grew restless and bored. They’d stubbornly refuse to pose or smile, much to their parents’ embarrassment. I didn't mind dealing with them. I had a box of tricks that usually extracted a smile from even the most sullen child. But mostly, I just let them be kids. I was good enough to make the most candid tantrum work and I found it beneficial to work around a child-led environment, letting them be themselves.
The Miller kids were so adorable in their mittens, wooly hats, and jackets. Their rosy cheeks and bright eyes sang out at me through the lens. Because the chance for a cloudy day was high, I'd purposely suggested their photo session be an hour before sunset. By now, the sky had opened up, allowing that golden hour glow to seep through its puffy whiteness. The dead trees and foliage lit up, creating a creamy radiance to trickle through the branches.
I smiled as Lorraine lifted her youngest son in her arms before kissing his pudgy cheek. An ache settled in my stomach, just below my ribs, as I continued to snap away at the precious moments between mom and son. I didn't need to guide her. Her maternal instinct when it came to loving on her kids came naturally.
"Thank you so much for allowing me to photograph your beautiful family." I had my tripod under my arm and my camera strapped to my shoulder. "I'll send you a sneak peek in about forty-eight hours."
Lorraine and her husband, Smith, both shook my hand, enthusiastically thanking me.
"We were super lucky with the weather." Smith looked up at the sky as the sun started to sink into the west. "Please drive safe." His arm tightened around his wife as he stared down at her with eyes crinkling in love. His six-year-old daughter hugged his leg, and his large hand settled on her white-blonde head.
For a moment, I pictured Drew in the same position—his arm tucking our child against his chest as he stared at me like I hung the moon—like he used to. I shook my melancholy heartache away, wished the Millers a good evening, and trudged back to my car.
I still had the Miller family on my mind as I drove the nearly forty minutes home, smiling gently to myself as I thought of how close-knit and loving they all were. Lorraine and Smith clearly still adored each other, and it was nice to be in the presence of such a devoted couple.
As the miles drew me closer to home, my thoughts turned to my own marriage, and the contrast to the Millers’. That warm glow inside faded as a rock sank my good mood.
Things between Drew and I hadn't improved much—if at all. I didn't know how to fix it or even what there was to fix. Whenever I tried to continue our conversation from that morning, he would brush me off and again claim that things were fine. That we'd talk later.
Christmas Day had passed, and we were now stuck in that limbo between Christmas and New Year's, where I didn't know what the heck the date was. Unfortunately, it felt like our marriage was also stuck in some strange limbo. I'd given up trying to talk to him about starting a family, choosing peace instead of conflict.
I hated living like this. I just wanted to know what the hell his problem was. I’d made no secret of the fact I wanted to be a mom. I'd thought Drew was on the same page, but now I wasn't so sure—especially after his telling slip of the tongue. A slip he refused to talk about.
When I turned into our driveway, I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw his car wasn't in its usual spot. I'd usually be annoyed that he wasn't home and hadn't bothered to text me his plans. Not that I needed to know where he was every second of the day, but he always told me if he had to head out or was going to be late home. That habit had died out over the past half a year. He hadn't even checked if I made it home okay.
Instead of anger, I was relieved I didn't have to deal with his foul moods just yet.
I threw my keys in the bowl we kept in the hallway before tugging off my winter coat and boots. At least he kept the house warm for me.
I took a long, hot shower, but Drew still wasn't home by the time I came out. It was getting to 8 PM on a Saturday, and it was pitch black outside. It wasn't exactly late, but that previous annoyance reappeared when I checked my phone and still found it empty.
I was exhausted from today, but also too wired to sleep. I debated warming up last night's leftover dinner, but the anxiety in my stomach refused to abate. My appetite was shot, and all I wanted to do was curl into a ball and cry. But I had no idea what I would be crying about. My husband's absence? His sudden inability to communicate? His mood swings that were indulging a little too much on the sour side?
The possibility that he was having an affair?
No.
He’d assured me that nothing was going on with Carly. I trusted my husband completely. Carly was the office flirt who possibly had a crush on Drew. Not that he noticed or would admit to it. But a woman knew. We were born with that innate radar that sniffed out when someone was interested in her man. We could see through the polite smiles and false pleasantries. Men took a while to catch on—and it was usually when they were balls deep in another woman.
But that wasn't my Drew. Even if I didn't recognize him these last few months. I knew one thing I could count on was his fidelity and loyalty.
However, I started to seriously doubt those attributes when my phone remained silent an hour later while I looked over the Miller shoot. I refused to message him and ask his whereabouts. I’d done enough of that and only received one-word replies.
Needing a distraction, I opened my email to clear my inbox when a familiar name caught my eye. It was a client whose engagement shoot I'd done a few months ago. The bride-to-be had been so over the moon with my photos that she'd promised to book me for their wedding.
Hi, Frankie!
Thank you once again for the amazing work you did at our party! Everyone loved the photos, especially Harry and me.
I know I promised to book you in for our wedding, but we've decided to do something a little different. My parents are driving us crazy, wanting a big, fancy wedding with three hundred people, but that's just not us. We want something small and intimate, so when I was looking online a few days ago, I came across an elopement package. In Mexico! Harry and I want to elope (just the two of us!) in Puerto Vallarta. It was where Harry proposed, and it holds a special place in our hearts. I would love it if you could come with us to photograph our elopement and be one of our witnesses. We would pay for your travel expenses and two nights at the resort where we plan to elope (details attached). We want to do this the last weekend of March. Please let me know if you're free. I would feel so comfortable knowing our special day was to be captured by someone we trust.
Best, Helen and Harry.
My breath hitched in excitement as I re-read their request. I immediately clicked on the link attached and poured through the resort's pamphlet. It looked incredible. The resort was right by the beach, which had white sand and a cerulean sea. As I scrolled through the photos, ideas started to draft through my mind, becoming more vivid the more I researched.
I was going to take it. There was no doubt in my mind. Helen came from a wealthy family, so dropping a few thousand for little old me to photograph their special day in another country was no big deal to her. I'd traveled with Drew and shot in some fantastic locations, but I'd never done a destination wedding before. The furthest I'd ever traveled for a wedding shoot was an hour away.
I immediately replied, gushing about her idea and thanking her for choosing me. March was still a bit away, but I knew it would creep up on me fast.
I was there to work, but I couldn't help being excited to photograph in such a beautiful country. I'd been to Mexico many times, but Drew and I tended to stay away from places that were too touristy, like resorts. We preferred to stay off the beaten track and immerse ourselves in local culture, drink, and cuisine. But I had to admit, sipping on a cocktail on a sun lounger in Mexico sure sounded appealing, especially after the last few months.
Drew.
A sudden idea crossed my mind. Maybe I could bring him with me—at our expense, of course. We could tack on a few more days and spend time reacquainting ourselves with each other. Without the bullshit of everyday life, we could finally start getting back to us. Find our solid ground again. It was just what we needed.
It was 10:30 PM before I heard Drew's car in the drive, his headlights illuminating through the curtain. I was still awake and sitting up in bed, researching things to do in Puerto Vallarta. Although, the longer my husband was gone, the less enthusiastic I became about suggesting this little trip.
I heard his movements downstairs before his heavy footsteps trudged up to our room. I kept my focus on my laptop when his figure paused at our doorway. I was too mad to look at him.
"I thought you'd be asleep."
My breath puffed out in disbelief. That's all he had to say to me?
"I thought I'd get a head start on editing today's shoot."
He raked a hand through his hair. "Sorry, I completely forgot to text you."
"What else is new?" I mumbled under my breath.
His head swiveled to me "What was that?"
I shook my head. I didn't want to get into another argument.
He huffed before disappearing into the bathroom, shutting the door with a hard thud. It wasn't exactly a slam, but it wasn't soft either.
My eyes welled, but I forced the moisture back. I didn't want him to see how much his actions hurt me. He should already know.
Twenty minutes later, the door opened, and he stepped out, smelling like soap and toothpaste.
He climbed into bed before lying there, staring at the ceiling. I focused on my screen, even though the words blurred together as one.
"I'm sorry," he murmured.
I was unmoved. He was always sorry.
He turned to face me, his hand stroking my leg. I wanted to jerk away.
"Where were you?" I finally asked.
He sighed and fell back. "Out with some work friends. They messaged me to come out for a drink. I thought I'd be back before you came home, but Mike started a game of pool and we got into a few matches."
Mike was in his department, but that's not who I cared about.
"Who else was there?"
"Hmm?" He scratched his nose and shrugged. "Mike, Tony, Sarah, Carly and James."
My jaw clenched at his response. It sounded too casual. Like he’d snuck Carly's name in there, hoping I wouldn't notice. I didn't want to start an argument again but if I could hazard a guess, I'd bet I knew precisely who texted him to come out. My jaw ached as I ground my teeth.
"What?" he asked at my pregnant silence.
I shook my head. "Nothing. Good night."
He stared at me for a moment before turning the other way, roughly pulling the sheets over his shoulder.
In the dark, silent tears tracked down my cheeks; the invite to Mexico long forgotten.