Chapter Nineteen Eliott
I don’t think I’ve ever felt so awful in my entire life. Every inch of my body aches and I’m having to fight to keep my eyes open. It doesn’t help that the groom-to-be hasn’t said a word in ten minutes.
He’s sitting on the opposite end of this bench, scrolling through his phone to avoid making eye contact with me while we wait for his fiancée to emerge from the toilets in her second outfit change of the afternoon.
I don’t usually mind engagement shoots. They’re typically fun and the couple tends to still be in that sickeningly in love phase that makes for a good time and great photos. But I’m not quite sure my current couple, Will and Tanya, have ever been in that phase.
Point in case, while Tanya shows up to the park we’re shooting in with a full face of make-up and a small suitcase filled with outfit changes, Will has arrived in a pair of ratty old jeans, a shirt that could do with another round of ironing, and hair that doesn’t look like it’s ever seen a comb.
He keeps an impassive look on his face the entire time I’m shooting them, only cracking a ghost of a smile when Tanya quietly begs him to.
It’s awkward. And we’ve still got another hour – and at least one more outfit change from Tanya – to go.
If this were any other day, I’d try to spark up some polite conversation with Will as we wait.
But today my head is throbbing and it’s taken all my control to keep myself balanced and upright on this bench.
I’ve definitely caught something. There were a lot of snotty noses and chesty-sounding coughs at a wedding I photographed a week ago, and I’m pretty sure I’m finally feeling the effects of the copious amounts of germs I inhaled that weekend.
Will gives me a sideways glare as I break out into yet another coughing fit. I throw him a weak smile. As shitty as I feel, I still have to be professional, I suppose.
‘Have you picked a date for the wedding yet?’ I ask, my voice noticeably hoarse.
He shrugs and turns his attention back to his phone. ‘Nah.’
‘Oh,’ I say before trying again, determined to get something from this man. ‘How did you propose, by the way? Were you planning it for a while?’
‘Nah.’
I wait a few beats to see if he’s going to elaborate, but nothing comes. Great. I glance over at the toilets, hoping to see Tanya striding back towards us in another gown, but no luck.
Fine.
If Will doesn’t want to be polite, then I won’t either.
I don’t have the brainpower to dedicate to this right now, anyway.
All I want to do is curl under my blankets and sleep for an eternity – or at least forty-eight hours straight.
I glance at my phone to check the time and spy a message from Dane waiting for me.
Just the sight of his name lifts my mood marginally.
DANE
still feeling crap?
ELIOTT
Awful.
Awful clients today too.
One hour left and then I can slip into a Night Nurse induced coma.
DANE
that doesn’t sound safe
ELIOTT
Probably not, but I’m too bunged up to think straight.
DANE
sorry baby
tell Sasha to take good care of you tonight
ELIOTT
I wish.
I’m home alone tonight. Sasha and Wes have gone for a weekend staycation.
They’re spending the next four nights in Cornwall to celebrate their four-year anniversary, and the last thing I want to do is dampen their spirits by letting Sasha know that I currently feel like death. And that’s not an exaggeration.
ELIOTT
But it’s fine. Soon as I’m done here, I’m heading home and straight to bed.
Probably won’t be much for good convo tonight, just a heads up.
I watch as the little speech bubble pops up, indicating that Dane is typing. Then it disappears, pops up again, disappears, and then pops up one last time.
If my mind wasn’t such a hazy mess of blocked sinuses right now, I’d expend more than a tiny bit of brain energy on trying to figure out what he keeps typing and then deleting. But I can’t bring myself to focus on it right now.
My head is pounding, my vision is blurring, and I’m rapidly running out of tissue to wipe my apparently endlessly snotty nose.
God. When was the last time I felt this sick? I don’t even remember.
‘About bloody time,’ Will murmurs next to me.
I glance up to see Tanya gliding across the park in an extravagant pale pink gown. She looks delighted and not at all deterred by the fact that her fiancé showed more enthusiasm when looking at the latest football score than in seeing her in her dresses.
I force what I hope is a bright grin onto my face as she approaches, even as my vision blurs some more. ‘You look amazing, Tanya.’
She beams at me and then turns to Will with an expectant look on her face.
‘Yeah,’ he grunts, eyes still glued to his phone. I wait a beat to see if he plans on expanding on his lacklustre compliment to his fiancée, but nothing comes.
I can’t tell if Tanya is bothered or not, but I don’t understand it at all.
I’ve been in the wedding industry for long enough that I’ve seen plenty of couples like this, and it always makes me feel strange.
I barely know these women, but I can’t understand why they’d settle for someone like this.
My thoughts drift to Cash and Bailey and then, unexpectedly, to Dane.
The idea of him treating me like this feels so unfathomable, it jolts a throaty laugh out of me.
Not that we’re married, or engaged, or anything other than friends. But still.
The way Dane treats me – with kindness and respect and genuine joy when his eyes land on me and his lips spread into that soft, sweet smile? I don’t understand why anyone would willingly settle for anything less.
My phone buzzes in my pocket and I summon the strength to pull it out while Will and Tanya get into their new positions.
DANE
all right baby
drive safely and let me know when you get home