Chapter 46
Carla
The photographer snaps a picture, checks the little screen on the back of her camera, and snaps another couple of hundred in rapid fire. At least, it feels like she takes a hundred.
“Gorgeous,” she says, mostly to herself. “Okay, let me move you around a bit.”
She marches into the middle of our group, takes Robyn by the shoulders, and repositions her and Ridge so that they’re standing between all of us, the bride and groom framed by us. Then she races back to her spot, lifts the camera, and takes another several thousand pictures.
My face hurts from smiling, but I smile some more anyway.
“Perfect. Now I want the bridesmaids and groomsmen together for this next one over there by the trees.” She waves a hand in that direction.
“Just us?” I ask.
“Yep.” She’s already ushering Robyn and Ridge off to the side.
The four of us shuffle together. Magma goes and stands on the outside, next to Flint, which puts Cath and me at one end and the males at the other. I’m next to Flint, who shoulder bumps me, giving me a wink.
I try to smile back, but I’m feeling that shitty deflated feeling again, which I hate.
If I didn’t know better, I would say that Magma’s avoiding me. But that can’t be right. We’re friends. Weeellll, sort of friends. Okay, not really, but still. We’re good. I thought we were good. Maybe he caught me glaring at his girlfriend.
Shit, I hope not.
The photographer lowers her camera and squints at us. It looks like she’s thinking something through.
“Right,” she says. “I want you two together,” she points at Magma and me, “and the two of you together, but all of you need to stand in a row by these trees.”
She herds us over to a stand of old oaks at the edge of the garden and arranges us in a line. Cath and Flint on one side. Magma and me on the other.
We stand in a row. Magma keeps about a foot of space between us and clasps his hands behind his back like he’s posing for a security force recruitment poster.
No, really, what is up with him?
Maybe I hugged him for too long. Is that it? Is it weird between us now?
Probably.
We can’t unsex the sex we already had. It’s not possible. He knows what my vagina tastes like, for goodness’ sake.
I blush and wish I hadn’t thought about it.
The photographer cocks her head one way and then the other, still looking at the four of us.
“Put your arms around each other at the waist, in a line,” she tells us.
Magma frowns. Then he moves in and puts his arm around me, his hand landing at my waist, big and warm. I do the same, sliding my arm around him, and good grief, there is a lot of him. He’s all muscle under that suit. He feels tense, his whole side rigid against mine.
Guys don’t like having this many pictures taken of them. That’s all this is. Flint doesn’t look thrilled either.
I’m overthinking all of this.
The photographer snaps away, calling out directions.
“Look at each other.”
“Look at the camera.”
“Look toward the chapel.”
“Great! Wonderful! That’s it. Yes!”
On and on.
“Now just the two of you,” she tells Magma and me.
Oh, my word!
Okay.
Shit!
Magma doesn’t look impressed. I think he’s had enough. I don’t blame him. My feet are starting to hurt, and we haven’t even started with the fun part yet.
Cath and Flint step out of frame. Magma’s hand stays where it is. She takes a few of us like that, then has him stand behind me with both hands on my shoulders, then side by side.
One where he looks at me and I look at the camera.
Once again, she takes about a billion shots of us.
“Beautiful,” the photographer says. “You two photograph very well together.”
Don’t say that.
Then it’s Flint and Cath’s turn, which takes all of half a minute because Flint charms the photographer into laughing through half the shots and Cath is a natural.
“Now I want the bride with her ladies,” the photographer announces. “You gents can wait over there.” She points the males toward the chapel steps and beckons the three of us with one finger. “Over here by the fountain.”
We do exactly as she says, and it doesn’t take long before she’s happy.
“You ladies are done,” the photographer tells Cath and me, lowering her camera. “I still need the groom and groomsmen. And then I want just the two of you,” she tells Robyn, looking pointedly at Ridge, who nods and heads over.
I push out a breath.
“We’ll see you in there,” Cath tells the others.
I wave.
Released, we head back toward the reception hall, both of us walking in the grass on our toes so our heels don’t sink.
“That was the most beautiful ceremony I have ever seen,” Cath says, dabbing under her eye with one knuckle even now.
“Did you see Ridge’s face when she came through the doors?
And the vows, Carla. Jasper is getting a very pointed phone call tonight about renewing ours, I can tell you that much.
” She fans her face with her hand. “My sister married a good one.”
“She really did.”
We reach the hall and walk inside, and I stop for a second just past the doors, because the whole place looks even better with people in it.
There are round tables draped in white, each one crowned with an arrangement of white roses and greenery, gold-rimmed glassware catching the light from the strings of warm bulbs crisscrossing the ceiling.
Champagne-colored ribbon loops along the backs of the chairs.
There is a hum of conversations and laughter.
Robyn is going to lose it when she sees this, and in the best way.
Our table is the long one at the head of the room, facing everyone else, with the bride and groom’s seats in the middle. Little gold cards mark each place, and Cath and I work our way along, reading names.
Cath is sitting next to Flint, since she didn’t bring her husband and he doesn’t have a date. Next to them is Brook. So it looks like she and Magma are sitting on one side of Robyn and Ridge, and Malachite and I are on the other.
I release a pent-up breath. I’m glad I don’t have to sit right next to Brook and Magma. It makes things easier. I can be on my side of the newlyweds, being fun and charming and normal, without having a front-row view of the two of them all night.
Small mercies. I’ll take them.
The couple placed next to Malachite and me is Britt Jenkins and her hubby.
Britt is also a surgeon and works with Robyn, and I know her husband, Tom, from seeing him at various work functions over the years.
They’re good, easy company. Britt tells stories about the OR that should be horrifying and somehow always end up hilarious.
Malachite sees me and stands. Brook does too, rising from her seat further down the table.
Malachite gets to me first and gives me a big hug, arms all the way around me, lifting me a little off my heels.
Shit! He really is trying hard. I might need to have another word with him. I don’t want him getting his hopes up. I really don’t want a relationship right now, and I told him that.
In his defense, he did say that he would try really hard to change my mind, and he is. Still, I don’t want him to be disappointed; he’s a nice guy.
“There you are,” he says, putting me down. “You’ve been gone for ages. At least I know Dr. Jenk…Britt. She introduced me to Tom. They’re nice. I’ve been talking with them. How were the photos?”
“Endless,” I say, and he laughs.
Brook is there when Malachite releases me.
“Hi. I’m Brook,” she says, putting out her hand. “We met before, at—”
“Yes, of course, I remember who you are,” I say, and I make sure it comes out warm, taking her hand. “It’s good to see you again, Brook. Hello.”
She turns to Malachite, and they introduce themselves.
“It’s nice to meet you,” she tells him. Her smile is wide and genuine, and up close she is somehow even prettier. “You look incredible, by the way,” she tells me. “So much better than the last time I saw you. I’m really glad.”
She means it. That’s the worst part. There’s not a single catty note in it anywhere. She’s so nice. I wish she wasn’t, because I don’t want to like her, but I can’t help it.
“Thank you,” I say. “I feel much better too.” I glance toward the doors. “Magma will be back soon. The photographer was nearly done with the guys.”
“We’ll talk more later.” She lifts her brows.
“Of course.” I nod.
She smiles again and drifts back toward her seat.
I watch her go, gold glittering under the lights, and I make myself a promise.
I will be nice to her. All night. Genuinely nice, not fake nice.
It’s not her fault I accidentally fell in love with her boyfriend before they got together.
That’s all on me.