Page 5 of Camera Shy

I’ll admit, our sex life has been lackluster. I thought it was a mixture of the honeymoon phase ending, the stress of our business, and the aftermath of getting really comfortable with someone. I thought his lack of sex drive was odd, but I didn’t realize it wasn’t the drive that was the problem…it was apparently the vehicle.

“Whatever you need to say…say it. I deserve it.” He stupidly holds his hand out.

I’m not touching that.

“I’m sorry. And I’ll say it a thousand times again. I really wanted this to end up differently.”

Is he tearing up?

My head is spinning. He’s trying to be apologetic, but everything he says slices me in a new spot. He is implying I’m big, but it’s funny—at the moment, I’ve never felt smaller in my life. So small in fact, I could slip right through the wooden floorboards of this luxury steakhouse, never to be seen again.

I yank again on the ring on my finger. It still won’t budge, but at least my limbs seem operable again. “It’s fucking stuck,” I mumble.

“Keep it,” he says quickly.

“What?” I screw up my face.

His brows are furrowed in anguish. “I don’t…know how else to apologize.”

I don’t even recognize him. How quickly a man can go from the love of your life to a complete stranger.

He actually looks relieved as I push away my plate of chocolate cake crumbles and scoot out my chair. I don’t exactly have a plan, but I collect my clutch and rise. When I walked in tonight, I felt like a goddamn piece. A knockout. A total ten. I’m leaving in ugly, fat humiliation…alone. How could this man’s perception of me so quickly change my own view of myself?

I pause by Mason and watch his face shrivel up in concern when he realizes I’m leaving without him.

“Are you going to call for a ride home?” he asks, looking me up and down.

“What home?” I whisper. I clear my throat and enunciate. “We no longer have a home.”

He catches my hand as I try to pass him. “Aver—”

I rip out of his grip. His hands feel cold and clammy, and I don’t want them anywhere near me. “Don’t you dare follow me.”

I flee to the restaurant entrance, maneuvering between handsomely dressed waiters carrying large trays of fancy dishes. I dart past our waitress on the way out and force a small smile as I say thank you and good evening. She’ll clue in once she sees Mason alone at the table, waiting for the bill.

I burst through the glass doors and into the crisp night air feeling like a free bird with clipped wings. I laugh to myself as I think about how abruptly the sky fell on such a pleasant evening. I never saw it coming. I didn’t suspect a damn thing.

Golden birthday…golden year…

My ass.

2

Finn

“Mrs. Mattley,” I call out from across the room, “can you arch your back and stick your butt out a little more, or will that be bothersome for your arthritis?”

My assistant, Lennox, blinks at me as I lower my Canon, peeling my eyes away from the LCD screen. I roll my eyes at her. “Yeah, I heard it,” I mutter under my breath.

“Weird sentence, man. Just weird.” Lennox lets out a breathy chuckle.

There is a seventy-year-old woman kneeling next to a large wooden-framed bed, trying her best to squeeze her breasts together and form some semblance of cleavage. I groan.

This isn’t working.

“She looks so uncomfortable,” Lennox says as she bumps her elbow against mine. “I feel bad for her. We need to start putting an age cap on these photo shoots.”

“Hush. She’s elderly, not deaf,” I say in a low tone. “This is really fucking brave of her. Be supportive and hope you’re this cool when you’re in your seventies.” I shoot her a warning look. “Go get me the really big red pillows from the main living room.”

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