Page 5 of Trash the Dress

He sits beside me on what I’ve deemed my rock. He snaps a picture of the view.

“You shouldn’t let her ruin your love of photography,” I tell him.

He smiles at me. “Touché. You shouldn’t let him ruin this day for you. Like I said, I can still make it magical if you let me and have an open mind.”

“I’m all ears,” I reply.

“Trash the dress.” It’s all he says with a smile.

“Excuse me?” I ask, because I’m not following.

“It’s a photo op that some brides take part in once they’re married, and all the traditional pictures are done. They’ll trash the wedding dress by doing something not traditional. Jumping in the mud, painting, walking in the water. You name the idea, and we’ll do it,” he explains.

I glance down at my wasted dress. The one I didn’t pick formeanyway. “Absolutely. Tell me what to do.”

“How about we start by having you walk in the water. The sun is about to make for some amazing shots.”

I did as he said—I walked in the water. I splashed in the water. I pulled my hair down and let the unruly curls fall. I laughed and maybe started to heal a tiny piece of my shattered heart with the same man who claims to be heartless himself.

When we finish with the water, I ask, “What about paint?”

He raises his brow. “Water can be cleaned up, paint…not so much. Are you sure?”

“I am,” I say without hesitation.

“If you’re sure, I think I have some yellow paint in my truck,” he tells me.

We start to walk to the church where his truck and my car are the only remaining vehicles. We walk to my car first and find a note on my windshield. It’s from my dad saying all my stuff is in the trunk and my keys are in the ignition. There’s one more from Eric telling me to call him so we can talk. I rip it up and toss it in a nearby trash can.

Zander glances at me and I can’t help but ask, “Why do you have yellow paint?”

“We recently had to paint the floor where there are steps to help prevent people from falling or tripping by marking them with a noticeable color,” he answers.

“That makes sense. How can we use it to trash my dress?” I ask.

“Hold on, let me make a quick call.” He dials a number and puts his camera in the backseat of his truck. I hear him talking and then he quickly ends the call.

“Hop in. I have a friend that owns a studio on the other side of town. She said we can use it tonight because no one is there. We can grab food and drinks on the way.”

“She, huh?” I ask while batting my eyes impishly.

He rolls his. “Yeah, I have friends that are female. This one happens to be married.”

I laugh. “I was only picking at you. Let me grab the cupcakes I saw in my backseat and a bottle of wine. My dad’s way of trying to cheer me up.”

“I’m not really a wine drinker,” he says.

“Oh, it’s not for you. It’s mine,” I answer.

He throws his head back laughing. “You’re full of surprises, little sunshine.”

I pause with the box of cupcakes in one hand and the bottle of red wine in the other after throwing my strappy heels in the floorboard. I lean back in quickly and hook my keys on one finger before locking my car.

“Did you just call me little sunshine? Why little?”

He helps me in his truck, which smells tantalizingly like his cologne, and says, “I did.”

I glance down at myself before he can shut the truck door. “If you haven’t noticed, I’m a full-figured woman. Full hourglass figure.” I set the cupcakes on his console. “I have a little pinky,” I say while holding it up. “But otherwise…more than a handful.”

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