Page 20 of Free to Live
Pulling out a ten, I slide it under my cup. “Thank you for a much better trip to the park than I was anticipating.”
Ava swirls by our table with to-go cups, depositing them in front of each of us. “Have a good afternoon with the kids, guys.”
Caleb stands and kisses her cheek. “Give our best to Matt.”
“Will do, honey. Oh, Joe! You need to make sure you bring the boys from the station to eat next month.”
I cock my head. “Why’s that?”
Keene wraps an arm around her and squeezes. “Because Ava doesn’t accept tips. She donates one hundred percent of them to a charity each month. This month it’s for Danbury’s Pediatric Cancer Research Ward. “Who’s it for next month?”
Even as the words come out of my mouth, I know. My gut tightens before she speaks.
“The Collyer Police and Fireman’s Victims Association, of course!”
8
Holly
Itry to blend in as much as possible at weddings. I’ve done everything from wear a bikini to an anorak to match the attire of the guests. But today’s outfit? I glance down at what I was asked to wear. This is a bit much for even me.
I’m dressed like one of the bridesmaids.
Luckily, they chose to go with one of my sister Emily’s designs—the Jenna—in a beautiful chocolate brown. So, at least I have a dress I can wear again. But it’s March, and I’m freezing my ass off in the delicate cap-sleeved, doupion silk creation. So, as I wander among the two hundred guests at the outdoor ceremony, I feel the need to express, “I’m freezing my ass off,” into my earpiece.
Emily mutters back, “But you look great in that dress. It’s like someone custom made it for you or something.”
“Bite me,” I retort before I still, not due to the wind picking up but due to the vision coming into focus through my precious Nikon D850. The maid-of-honor, in a dress identical to mine, glances around quickly before striding up the aisle. Soon, she’s running.
Right into the arms of the groom.
“Bastard,” I murmur.
“What is it, Hols?” Corinna asks.
“I should work for your men,” I whisper before I push the button capturing images that are breaking my heart. Because I know the bride is completely head over heels in love with her groom.
The asshole.
Phil groans, “Not another one.” Cassidy sighs, knowing I’ll be up in the bridal suite soon with evidence of every bride’s worst nightmare: infidelity.
As many times as we help create happily ever after, there are so many it just doesn’t work out. Years—hell, months—later, we’ll hear something about our clients splitting up. What’s worse is the times I get vibes in advance, and I want to tell either the bride or the groom to run before their hearts get broken. I feel like I’ve let them down by not speaking up, but as Ali has to remind me, my intuition isn’t foolproof. They’re not hiring us for marital counseling.
Only when I have proof can we go to our clients to let them make a decision on whether they want to continue with their wedding or not. I’ve been shocked by the number who continued despite the flagrant exposure of their soon-to-be spouse’s behavior until one said, “Not all of us marry for love, Ms. Freeman,” before she turned to have my sister attach her veil.
Sadly, I’ve learned masks slowly begin to degenerate the minute a ring is slapped on the finger of their intended.
And once again, the camera never lies.
Shaking my head, I turn around and head toward the bridal suite.
* * *
“Well,that went about as crappy as we expected,” Em says, handing me a glass of champagne back at Amaryllis Events.
Corinna, having sliced up the top tier of the wedding cake—the only layer left after the bride stormed into the kitchen and nabbed the bottom two before running outside and smashing them in her former fiancé and best friend’s faces—begins passing around the pieces. “I thought Tara was super ballsy when she came storming in for the cake,” she offers.
“True,” Cassidy concedes. “It was after when the screaming started that it went bad.”
