Chapter 13 #3
“I want the kids without becoming the household’s unpaid emergency woman. I want to travel for jobs and come back. I want to say no without writing a legal brief proving I’m allowed.”
Evan’s face went still.
“And I want people who make room for me before they’re desperate for what I can do.”
Nobody spoke.
The marina outside kept operating with insulting normality.
A gull landed on a piling.
Somebody dropped a cooler.
A child yelled that he had seen a shark, followed by an adult explaining with visible exhaustion that it was a mullet.
Evan looked older than he had when he came in.
Not physically.
Just less polished.
“What am I supposed to do tonight?”
There it was.
One final reflex test.
My brain supplied answers immediately.
Call Jessa in Wilmington.
Try Cal Mercer Studios even though they charged too much.
Ask the planner whether her content photographer had still-camera experience.
Split the dinner and rehearsal coverage.
Offer the delayed shooter mileage if she could get a car from Gastonia instead.
I could solve half of it before he reached the parking lot.
I loved solving things.
That had never been the disease.
The disease was believing every solvable problem had chosen me.
“I don’t know,” I said.
Evan stared at me.
The world did not end.
“I really don’t,” I added. “But you’ll figure it out.”
His eyes dropped.
He nodded once.
Then he looked at Cole.
Cole gave him nothing hostile.
Nothing friendly either.
Just room to leave.
Evan looked at Rafe.
Rafe had both hands shoved into his pockets.
Gray opened the side door because apparently even emotional climaxes benefited from efficient traffic flow.
Evan looked at me one last time.
“I’m sorry.”
I believed him.
“Thank you.”
That was all.
He walked out.
The brass bell rang again.
Through the front window, I watched him cross the gravel lot, unlock a black rental SUV, put his camera bag in the back, and stand with both hands on the roof for several seconds.
Then he got in.
He drove away.
Nobody spoke until the SUV disappeared toward the commercial strip.
Then Rafe said, “I would like official recognition for not saying at least nine things.”
Gray looked at him.
“Seven.”
“Nine.”
“I saw your face. Seven.”
Cole came around the counter and stopped in front of me.
“You okay?”
I checked.
Hands shaking now.
Throat tight.
Face hot.
Heart still beating like I had sprinted the length of the marina.
“Ask me in thirty seconds.”
Cole nodded.
He did not touch me.
That almost made me cry harder than touching would have.
Rafe pulled a bottle of water from the small fridge and set it beside my laptop.
Gray looked at the second backup drive.
“Finished?”
I checked the screen.
“Sixty-three percent.”
He nodded.
Nobody told me I had been brave.
Nobody told me Evan was an asshole.
Nobody made my boundary about how well I had performed it for them.
They just stayed.
Thirty seconds passed.
Cole raised his eyebrows.
I breathed out.
“Better.”
“What do you want?” he asked.
I laughed through the pressure in my chest.
“Jesus Christ. Again?”
His mouth moved.
“Still a good question.”
I looked at the clock.
Two forty-one.
My three-thirty lifestyle shoot for Tide & Timber started on the north beach with a family Rafe had recruited from a previous surf lesson.
I had batteries charging.
Cards formatted.
Two lenses ready.
A job.
My job.
“I want to finish this backup, eat something, and go photograph the Parkers.”
Rafe smiled.
“Mrs. Parker has four children under ten.”
“I said what I said.”
“One of them licks things.”
“That narrows nothing.”
Gray pushed away from the door.
“I’ll get food.”
“You don’t have to.”
He looked at me.
I heard it the second it came out.
Old sentence.
Old reflex.
I corrected myself.
“I would like food.”
“What?”
“Something with protein. Not a salad pretending to be lunch.”
Gray nodded once.
“Ten minutes.”
He left.
Rafe picked up the liability waivers again.
“I have to call Captain College Football back and tell him physics remains legally binding.”
“Good luck.”
“I don’t need luck. I have mass limits.”
Cole looked toward the dock.
“I’ve got another charter check.”
He touched two fingers lightly to my wrist.
Not a claim.
Not a rescue.
Just contact.
Then he left too.
Within forty-five seconds, all three men were working.
I stood behind the counter alone.
Not abandoned.
Alone.
There was a difference.
My phone buzzed.
Every muscle in me prepared for Evan.
It was an email from the Savannah couple.
They had finalized their October venue and wanted to know whether I was still available for the date we’d discussed.
I stared at the message.
Then I laughed so suddenly Mango, from somewhere in the back office where I had forgotten he was spending the afternoon, yelled, “PANTS OFF!”
Rafe shouted from the other side of the store, “Not during business hours!”
I covered my face.
The second backup reached one hundred percent.
I ejected the drive, put it in its case, and opened my calendar.
October was no longer the month I was supposed to marry Evan.
It was a month containing a Saturday.
A Saturday that belonged to me.
I typed my reply.
Yes, I was available.