Page 134 of One More Betrayal

“The dress is gorgeous,” I tell Theresa. The full-length gown is off-white with several dozen buttons running down the back.

While Theresa continues to get ready, I take more photos—the precious moments of the mother-of-the-bride with her two daughters.

Eventually, Emily and I head out in her car for the next part of my wedding-photography plans.

“You and Troy…you really are over?” Em asks, driving along the neighborhood street. The words are spoken like they’re rare and delicate flowers she’s trying not to trample. And she appears truly heartbroken, which would also explain why she kept looking at me like she expected me to dissolve into tears while we were at Theresa’s parents’ house.

She’s not too far off. It’s taking everything I have not to do exactly that. “Yes. Things were getting…um, intense.” I had only planned for it to be a break, but then things fell apart between us when we had the argument. The ache in my heart worsens at just thinking about how things went so wrong.

Emily rolls her lips together and keeps her gaze on the road. “I love your dress. It’s pretty.”

A short chuckle tumbles from me. It’s not like she’s never seen the dress before. “Thank you. Anne Carstairs gave it to me as a gift after I bought her great-aunt’s house. It’s my favorite dress. If I was five years old, I’d feel like a princess in it.” That’s the best way to describe how the dress makes me feel.

Emily laughs and turns down the street where the wedding ceremony and reception are taking place.

She parks the car on the driveway in front of the house and helps me with my gear.

Once inside, I shoot numerous photos of the groom, his groomsmen, and his family as they prepare for his part of the day. They’re having so much fun, it’s hard not to get pulled into their joy and laughter. This is what weddings should be about.

“Okay, everyone,” Em announces a short time later. “The bride and her family are on their way. It’s time for you to head to the garden.”

I follow the group outside to where the guests are gathering. I photographed the stunning details this morning, so I don’t have to worry about that now, other than a few shots with the change of lighting.

My gaze lands on Troy, and a rush of jumbled emotions congeals inside me. Relief, regret, happiness, sorrow. I haven’t seen him since Thursday at work. I want to run over to him and kiss him, but my resolve locks me into place.

I’m doing the right thing by pushing Troy away. What I’m doing for Violet and Sophie is bigger than my own happiness.

I stretch my lips into a facsimile of a smile. Unless you look too closely and catch the cracks in the shiny veneer, it’s passable for the real thing.

He smiles back, but it’s missing the brilliant luster I’m used to.

Katelyn steps up to him and embraces him. I don’t have time to dwell on that. Her presence means the bride and the bridesmaids are almost here. I rush around to the front of the house to prepare for their arrival.

The next three hours are a blur. I’m constantly on the go, unable to slow down and think. Think beyond what shots I want to take, the aperture and speed settings I’m using, the best lighting, the best angle for each shot.

I don’t want to miss those magical moments every bride wants to see long after her wedding day is over. I’m flitting this way and that way, capturing as many of them as I can in the photojournalistic style I love. Each photo tells a beautiful story.

“Why’s Troy here with Katelyn?” I ask Emily when I finally have a second to breathe. She’s been clinging to him like a barnacle at the bottom of a boat.

Emily busies herself with a flower arrangement that already looked good.

“Em?” Her name is drawn out in a warning. A warning I don’t want to be lied to. Which is rich given all the lies I’m currently keeping track of.

God, when did I become such a big liar? My gut tightens in reply.

Sometimes lying isn’t a bad thing. Not when it can save a life.

“They’re…they’re dating,” Emily says. “Or at least that’s the rumor. Troy denied it when Zara brought it up Friday night.”

The tightening in my gut grows and spreads to my chest. “Katelyn doesn’t seem to think it’s a rumor.”

Emily watches them for a second, creases wrinkling her brow. “No. She doesn’t.”

“How long has the rumor being going on for?” My gaze shifts to Troy and Katelyn, who are now talking to her parents.

“Since Friday.”

Friday? That would explain the odd glances Simone and Zara kept slipping each other yesterday when I went over to Simone’s house. They were trying to decide if they should tell me.

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