Page 2 of Triplet Babies for the Billionaire
We walk toward the nearest pizza joint, the neon sign glowing brightly above the entrance. As we step inside, the familiar scent of melting cheese and pepperoni fills the air.
“I’ll take a slice with everything,” I tell Amy, looking over the glass counter.
“Same,” she says, leaning against the counter with a sigh. “I can’t believe we’re already a month into being here in this city. It’s crazy.”
I glance around at the bustling pizza shop, listening to the laughter from the booths and the noise of the arcade machines in the back. It’s allsoalive, so different from the quiet suburb I left behind. Here, every corner holds something new.
We sit by the window, devouring our cheesy, crusty slices of heaven. People pass by outside, tourists with shopping bags, groups of friends, and couples holding hands. The lights of Times Square are just a few blocks away, and I catch myself staring at the glow of the signs as they flicker like a never-ending dream.
The wedding’s tomorrow, and everything is about to change.
***
I arrive at the winery venue a little earlier than I need to, hoping to get a feel for the space before the chaos begins.
The sprawling vineyard stretches out behind the old stone building, bathed in the golden glow of the early afternoon sun. The scent of the grapes in the air mixes with the faintest hint of fresh grass and floral arrangements being set up around the ceremony site. It’s a gorgeous day, and the setting is like something out of a fairy tale.
The wedding planners are bustling about, arranging tables draped in white linens and soft pink florals, while servers make sure the champagne towers are in place.
I slip my camera strap over my neck and start taking test shots of the venue, hoping to capture some of the natural beauty before the guests arrive.
The bridal party is getting ready inside, and I’m introduced to the bride and her bridesmaids. The bride, Kelsey, is stunning in a silk robe, her golden hair falling in soft waves around her face. The bridesmaids wear soft lavender gowns, and their laughter fills the room as I snap a few candid shots.
I’m focused on the moment when I hear the unmistakable shuffle of feet outside, and I glance up just in time to catch sight of the groomsmen arriving.
One of them, in particular, catches my eye. He’s a handsome man with salt and pepper hair and a face that looks like it’s been carved from stone. He stands out among the others, his presence commanding. He catches my gaze for a moment, and I quickly turn my head, pretending I didn’t notice.
But it’s hard to ignore him. Something about him, somethingintense, lingers.
The ceremony begins as the soft sound of string instruments fill the air. The guests take their seats, and the sun, now lower in the sky, casts long shadows across the vineyard, giving everything an ethereal glow as the bride makes her entrance, her arm linked with her father’s.
I get into position, capturing the moment with my camera, and watch as Kelsey’s delicate veil billows behind her like a dream. The crowd watches in awe, some with hands clasped in front of them, others wiping at their eyes. Her father looks at her with pride, and I can see the bittersweet emotion in his eyes.
The groom stands at the altar, a smile breaking out on his face as he sees her. His mother, sitting in the front row, dabs her eyeswith a tissue. I snap a photo of her as she tries to control her tears—her dress, almost too close to white, makes me pause for a second, but I continue shooting. The intimacy of the moment is so raw, so beautiful.
The maid of honor stands next to the bride, tears streaming down her face as she watches the couple exchange vows. Her hand rests gently on Kelsey’s shoulder, and I catch the exact moment she squeezes it in support.
The decor is flawless: white and lavender florals surround the altar, intertwined with delicate vines that twist around the oak wooden beams overhead. String lights are strung between the trees, casting a soft glow. It’s simple yet stunning. Everything about this wedding speaks of timeless love, and I’m honored to be here, capturing it all.
After the ceremony ends, the cocktail hour begins. The guests migrate to the reception area, sipping on champagne and nibbling hors d’oeuvres while the bridal party gets ready for the official photos. I’m doing my usual thing, getting group shots, snapping pictures of the guests mingling, but my attention keeps drifting back to him.
The older groomsman.
Noah.
I finally overheard someone call him by name earlier.
It’s hard not to notice him.
His icy blue eyes seem to flicker in my direction every now and then, and I can’t help but feel a bit nervous under his gaze. He’s tall, commanding, and just...effortlessly handsome. But I remind myself that I’m here for the photos, not for distractions.
When I move to take pictures of the groomsmen, he’s standing a little too close for comfort, and my heart skips a beat. He’s talking with another groomsman, and for a second, I’m thankful that he’s not paying attention to me.
But that’s when it happens.
Without thinking, I call out, “Hey, Noah, maybe don’t stand so close to the other guy. I’m trying to get a clean shot here!” The words are out before I can stop them, and the entire group turns to look at me, a stunned silence hanging in the air.
Noah blinks, clearly embarrassed, his jaw tightening for just a moment. “You’ve got a sharp eye,” he mutters dryly, his voice suddenly colder than before.
