Page 34 of You, with a View

Theo’s quiet while I color code some columns. It’s almost... nice. It’s so nice, in fact, that I get suspicious as I finish up and save the document, then shut my laptop. I dart my eyes sideways, trying to look at him without himseeingme looking. But his attention is on something else, anyway.

“Why are you staring at my camera?”

“Because you brought your camera,” he says.

“And?”

He rolls his eyes. “AndI’ve gotten the impression that’s not something you do.”

I open my mouth to brush it off, to deflect or make some pithy remark about how he’s taking notes on me. But something about the way he’s looking at me—challenging, but without judgment—has me holding back a verbal bite.

Instead, I eye the camera, frowning at the smudge of dust marring the mode dial. I thought I wiped it off earlier.

My eyes slide from the reminder of my neglect to Theo. “I’m thinking about documenting our trip.”

His brows lower in confusion. “I thought that was a done deal. You and my granddad are going to pal around with your Canons or whatever he’s using these days.”

“I meant like on social media. TikTok.”

“Oh,” he says, surprised. “You’re going to post more videos?”

“I... maybe. The one I posted is still popular. People want an update on us.” Theo straightens, and I hold up my hands. “I’d do amix of stills and video, landscape stuff. I wouldn’t put you and Paul in it, other than potentially narrating his and Gram’s story as we go. I can give an update without even including you, actually.”

Theo’s mouth curves microscopically. “By all means, pretend I don’t exist.”

My gaze skims over him from head to toe before I can stop myself.Impossible.

“What will you get out of the TikTok thing?”

I square my shoulders, considering the question. “To tell a story, I guess. To remember it. To feel like the photos I’m taking serve some sort of purpose. To see if people even care.”

He nods, and we get caught in a moment where there’s no snark or deflecting. It lasts a second, maybe two. As long as it would take me to press my finger against the shutter release. As long as it takes me to capture an image forever.

I break away first, blinking down to the counter. “We never talked about how weird it must’ve been to see your granddad in some random video.”

He snorts out a laugh, sliding a hand along the marble counter as he moves closer. “It was pretty bizarre. I signed up a while ago because we have a big presence there. Eventually I got sucked into this vortex of, like, an hour of mindless scrolling before I went to sleep every night. The night I saw your video, I’d taken a sleeping pill. Thought I was hallucinating.”

I fiddle with my earrings. “I’ll bet you never imagined it’d play out this way.”

“No.” His voice is quiet as he watches my fingers. “I definitely didn’t have this on my bingo card.”

I clear my throat. “So, are you cool with me documenting some of the trip?”

He blinks and rocks back on his heels, running a hand through his hair. “That’s fine. Granddad will be into it.”

My chest warms at the thought, and I see a sudden snapshot of my Sunday morning explorations with Gram. She’d find the most picturesque places—Muir Woods, Cowell Ranch Beach, Land’s End—and watch me take a million pictures with a smile. We’d exchange our latest secrets over lunch, which, post-college, were either juicy details about my dating life or my anxiety over never accomplishing anything worthwhile.

We’d sit together at her iMac after lunch, which she only bought because I’d mentioned once I wanted a desktop but couldn’t afford it. She never touched it except when I was uploading my photos or looking something up for her. We’d sit side by side, and she’d watch while I edited the best shots and ordered prints for her.

“Looks like you’re accomplishing something to me,” she said once, pointing to the screen.

“You’re biased,” I scoffed.

She shook her head. “You’re already doing great things, Ellie. You’re young still and figuring out what that looks like. Give it time.”

She always told me how my photos painted stories without words, and that’s what I’m attempting here. Paul’s potential excitement feels like that memory revisited. Like an accomplishment in its own right.

“Shepard.”

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