Page 1 of The Very First Night

ONE

KAT

I’ve always loved weddings.

There is something about being a part of the biggest day of someone’s life that feels…monumental. Months, sometimes years of work; flowers, linens, dresses, suits, venues—dozens of choices, all culminating in a day that you’re going to remember for the rest of your life.

Sure, there is typically some drama involved. Goodness knows my family would end up screaming at each other by the end of the day, but it’s still worth it. My cousin Michael’s wedding alone was complete and utter chaos. His mom ended up getting into a fight with the bride’s mom in the middle of the first dance. Now that I think of it, I don’t know that they’ve resolved it, and it’s been two years.

Family drama aside, my opinion stands.

I love weddings—that’s why I decided to get into wedding photography in the first place. My catastrophic love life aside, weddings are everything right in the world…pure, concentrated love.

“Can you scooch like six inches to the side?” I ask with a wave of instruction as two tall, statuesque blonde women in champagne-colored satin bridesmaid dresses step to the right.

While I understand why some couples prefer to do a first look, I still think it makes it extra special for the couple to see each other for the first time at the altar. Would a first look make photos a lot easier? Absolutely; I would have been done and on the road hours ago. However, the photos I captured of the groom seeing the bride for the first time were worth it.

“Okay, now, Richard, if you could give Annabeth a big ol’ smooch, and everyone else smile at them.”

The bridal party follows my instruction with ease. Richard wraps his arms around Annabeth’s waist and pulls her close. She tilts her head back, eyes closed in anticipation as he leans down to kiss her. The bridesmaids and groomsmen stand close together, smiling and watching as the couple shares a passionate moment. I snap several quick shots, capturing the tenderness of the embrace, before calling out “Perfect!” and lowering my DSLR.

Sparkling white lights glimmer along the wooden beams and cast a glow on the rows of seats lining the oversized pergola. Hanging lights dangle like lanterns from the middle of each support, connected by long strands of lights. A few raindrops gather on the outer edge and add shine to the sides of the wood, making it look almost silver. The bride was freaking out about impending rain, so I’m glad that it held off long enough for their outdoor ceremony to occur and the guests to go into the hall.

I just hope that it holds off long enough for me to drive the two hours to Cleveland.

“I believe we are good on the posed shots if you guys would like to start heading inside,” I say, dismissing the bridal party so they can start lining up for the reception entrance as I pull my long, sweat-dampened brown hair away from my neck. I don’t care that it’s July and it rained yesterday—it should never be this muggy outside.

While typically I would photograph the ceremony and reception, this wedding unfortunately falls on the same day as my college roommate’s wedding. I’m glad there is enough time for me to get there for their evening wedding, but I’m even more thankful that my friend Cheyeanne, who often assists me with weddings, is willing to shoot the reception by herself.

“What time do you have to be there by?” Cheyeanne asks as I begin maneuvering my camera into the bag already filled with other equipment such as lenses and flash attachments.

“The ceremony starts at five.” I give the sides of the bag a last tug to secure the zipper and check my watch. It’s two o’clock, and I’m relieved I’ll have enough time to get on the road and check in at the hotel before Jenna’s ceremony begins. I’m just glad that she opted to hold the ceremony and reception at the same hotel.

“Are you sure you don’t need me to come, Kat?” Cheyeanne asks, twirling one of her tight ringlets between her fingers.

My mouth feels like a desert as I try to explain to my friend the dread that is overwhelming me at the thought of seeing Elijah again. We’ve been talking about the wedding for weeks, and it has recently become clear that he will definitely be there. It has been six long months since I’ve seen him, and I know it will be awkward—I mean, he is one of the groom’s closest friends; of course he’d RSVP yes.

Cheyeanne has been pushing me to bring a plus-one, but the harder I worked to find someone to bring, the more pathetic I felt in trying to force it to happen.

I can be around Elijah for one night. It’s not the end of the world…right?

“I’m sure,” I say. “Besides, I need you to finish shooting the reception.”

“I could drive up afterward. I should be able to get there before the first dance.”

“Seriously, Chey. It’s fine, I’ll be fine.”

Her gaze hardens, her eyes dark and full of disbelief, as if daring me to admit I am not okay.

I hold her gaze for a tense moment before she looks away. I met her shortly before graduation, so she has seen the chaos with Elijah firsthand. I don’t blame her for being worried, but I’m genuinely confident I’ll be fine.

I’m twenty-five years old; I should be perfectly fine with spending a single night at a wedding with my college boyfriend. Now ex-boyfriend.

“Okay…” Cheyeanne clears her throat as her eyes meet mine. “Just call me if that changes, okay?”

“I will, I promise.”

I secure my camera bag, laptop, and external hard drive in the trunk and get into the car. The engine starts with a throaty purr, and I pull out of the parking lot. A tight knot begins to form in my stomach as soon as I merge onto I-71.

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