Italian Summer with the Single Dad
Auteur
Ella Hayes
Lezers
18,9K
Hoofdstukken
11
CHAPTER ONE
‘TILT IT UP! No! More...more! There...no, there! Now, don’t move.’
Olivia Gardner gripped the silver reflector and gritted her teeth. She couldn’t understand why Ralph Holdsworth became so obnoxious the minute they arrived at a wedding. He was tolerable the rest of the time, albeit a little highly strung. He might be the go-to wedding photographer for those wealthy enough to afford him—his talent was undeniable—but assisting him was not the dream job she’d imagined. Most of the time she felt as if she was walking on eggshells. If she hadn’t been learning so much about wedding photography she’d have walked out months ago.
He stepped back, lowered his camera and motioned to the bride. ‘Okay, darling, let’s move over to the window. Liv! The dress...?’
Olivia parked the reflector and dropped to her haunches, fanning out the dress the way Ralph liked it. She hated the way he called all the brides ‘darling’. How hard would it be to remember their names? She made a point of memorising the names of the entire bridal party ahead of any wedding.
Today’s bride, Sophie, was a sweet-faced girl with porcelain skin, blonde hair and a slender figure. Her wedding dress was ivory silk embellished with tiny pearls and it felt soft and papery between Olivia’s fingers as she pulled it out and smoothed it down. She tried to ignore Ralph’s impatient glance as she moved onto the veil. It was a full veil, fine antique lace, a family heirloom probably. The bride’s ‘something old’.
Carefully, she draped the ornate edge over Sophie’s shoulder and the girl smiled at her, mouthed a thank you. She could sense Sophie’s nerves, gave her arm a little squeeze before she turned to pick up the reflector, but Ralph was waving an impatient hand in her direction.
‘I don’t need that now! Go pap some guests.’
She swallowed her irritation. She knew he didn’t mean to be offhand, but it was annoying when he spoke to her like that in front of clients. Without a word, she picked up her camera and slipped out of the room.
Slowly she made her way along the wide hallway towards the staircase. She wished she had the courage to strike out on her own, but she was wary. She’d been down that road before. Armed with her photography degree, she’d started freelancing for an independent arts magazine but the circulation was low, the pay dismal. She’d stuck it out for a year to build a portfolio then tried to break into other magazines, but it was impossible. Magazines had their pet photographers.
She’d been working as a part-time barista when she met Ralph Holdsworth. He’d offered her a job and she’d jumped at it. He was a top wedding photographer, well-connected! At first he hadn’t let her touch a camera. On wedding days she scurried around with reflectors, fluffed dresses and made sure that the right people were arranged into the right groups for the family photos. At the studio he set her to work editing an endless stream of wedding images which, he told her, would be an education in itself, and she handled all his paperwork too because he hated anything that wasn’t creative. Twelve months and over forty weddings later, he’d given her a camera. She was to be his second shooter, responsible for the candid shots and the little details he didn’t want to do, but he still expected her to help with the bridal portraits and to assemble the guests for the formal pictures.
Today’s wedding was taking place in the garden of Kensall Manor, the bride’s family home. The house was Tudor, all oak beams and half-panelled walls with mellow plaster above. On the galleried landing she paused to watch the comings and goings in the grand hall below: catering staff bustling about with trays, guests looking for somewhere to leave wedding gifts. And then the hall suddenly emptied. She was about to make a move when a tall, dark-haired man in a morning suit strode in carrying a shallow open box containing the men’s buttonholes. There was something powerful in the set of his shoulders, something about him that made Olivia press herself closer to the balustrade to get a better view. He was looking around, for the groomsmen she supposed, then quite unexpectedly he looked up and caught her eye. She barely had time to catch her breath, to register the tiny, indefinable reaction in his eyes before he broke into a smile.
‘Hello, up there! I don’t suppose you’ve seen the bridegroom...?’
Blue eyes, something shining through them. She could feel her heart thumping in her chest, an unwelcome flush of heat rising through her as she called up a mental list of the wedding party. This had to be Zach Merrill, the groom’s older brother and best man. As she cleared her throat to speak, she prayed that he wouldn’t notice her blushing. ‘No, I’m sorry, but if I see him I’ll tell him the best man’s looking for him.’
He looked bemused. ‘How do you know I’m the—?’
‘You’re wearing the weight of responsibility on your shoulders...’
He lifted an eyebrow then broke into a smile which stole the breath from her lungs. ‘Is it that obvious?’
She nodded.
‘Zach!’
A man’s voice rang out from somewhere off the hall and he turned to look, made a gesture of acknowledgement then lifted his eyes to hers once more.
‘You can call off the search! I’ve found him.’
Blue eyes staring into hers. Somehow, she found her voice. ‘That’s lucky! Can’t have a wedding without a groom.’
He laughed, started to walk away then stopped and looked up again. ‘Goodbye then...’
She smiled softly. ‘Bye.’
She watched him disappear then shook herself. Fraternising with the best man wasn’t going to get her anywhere; she was supposed to be working. As she trotted down the stairs she pushed him to the back of her mind and tried to concentrate on the little tingle of excitement she always felt at the start of a wedding day.
She loved photographing weddings. Everything from the smallest details to the grandest gestures, but most of all she loved the ceremony. The way the bride and groom looked at each other...little nervous smiles, eyes glistening with happy tears. She found something compelling about the ritual of commitment, about the idea of two people starting out together, taking their first steps into uncharted waters. No loose ends. The thought of it always made her feel happy.
As she stepped out into the warm spring sunshine she hung the camera around her neck then followed the broad path that led to the southern aspect of the property. She could see guests mingling on the long terrace next to the house. She could hear the buzz of conversation and glasses tinkling and she knew she ought to go straight over, but instead she cut across the immaculate lawn to where rows of chevalier chairs were set out for a ceremony in front of the ornamental lake. It was perfect! She gazed at the scene, lifted her camera and put her eye to the viewfinder. For a moment she pictured herself in the frame, standing with the man she loved, her fingers laced in his, their eyes locked, lips pledging love and fidelity, and then...the kiss.
She lowered the camera and watched a lone coot swimming across the glassy surface of the lake. She wished she could switch off her old teenage fantasy but it was always there in her head, playing on a loop. She didn’t understand where her silly romantic notions came from. Her own parents had never married—they were far too modern for that!
She came back to herself and glanced over her shoulder. If Ralph caught her staring down the aisle when there were guests to photograph she’d soon be out of a job. It didn’t take much to set him off when he was in the thick of a wedding shoot. She supposed he was a victim of his own success—under pressure to produce astonishing images all the time. The last thing she wanted to do was provoke him. Besides, she thought as she made her way towards the terrace, ‘papping’ guests was a step up from carrying his camera bag, even if she knew that she was capable of so much more.
From the periphery she scanned the crowd then lifted the camera with its long paparazzi lens. She snapped close-ups of smiling faces, bright hats, animated groups. She moved around, working the different angles, picking out details—champagne flutes sparkling on a tray, an elegant woman with immaculate red lipstick and long red nails. She spied a little girl with dark serious eyes peering through a sea of legs. She was a pretty little thing, so Olivia crouched down to play peek-a-boo from behind the camera. The girl buried her small fingers into the fabric of a woman’s skirt, eyes brightening. Olivia pulled a funny face and the girl returned a shy smile. She fired a burst of frames then winked at the child and stood up. She liked photographing children—no hang-ups, no vanity.
With a couple of hundred shots done, she left the terrace and walked across the lawn to take some wider views. The old house must have been extended over the years. She could see the different materials in the two wings that flanked the original Tudor construction but the meld was pleasing, the exterior softened with an ancient wisteria and a rampant, scrambling clematis. All Ralph’s clients owned properties like this. Sometimes she couldn’t believe that this was her life now: every weekend spent in some elegant home or some fancy hotel. It was a far cry from the small Sussex cottage where she’d grown up.
She checked her watch. The great hall would be set for the wedding breakfast by now, which meant she’d be able to photograph the room in its pristine state. Lifting the camera from around her neck, she set off towards the front of the house but as she stepped onto the sweeping driveway she stopped, toes pressed to the tarmac. Up ahead, the groom was chatting and laughing with his two groomsmen—and Zach! She felt her heart flip over and land in her stomach. The way Zach was standing, the way his shoulders shifted under his morning coat as he moved... It would be so easy just to stand and watch...
Get a grip.
She took a deep breath and forced her feet to move. There was no avoiding an encounter if she wanted to get back into the house, so she’d just have to play it cool. As she drew nearer, she tried to concentrate on the ushers’ names. Charlie and Will—or was it Bill? Cousins anyway. They were a little shorter than the Merrill brothers and infinitely less nervous from the look of things.
Far too soon she found herself standing in front of the little group.
‘Good morning!’ She could feel Zach looking at her, but she fixed her eyes on the groom. ‘Lucas, we haven’t met before. I’m Olivia Gardner, Ralph Holdsworth’s assistant.’
Lucas extended a hand and shook hers warmly. ‘Hi, Olivia. Pleased to meet you.’ She noticed a tiny fleck of toothpaste at the corner of his mouth, the lopsided rose on his lapel. He motioned to Zach. ‘This is my brother, Zach, and these good-for-nothing hangers-on are Charlie and Will.’
Charlie threw a playful punch at Lucas’s arm. ‘Good-for-nothing hangers-on? You’re going to pay for that!’
As a friendly skirmish broke out, Zach stepped into the space between herself and the jostling men. It was a gallant protective gesture but it meant that he was now rather close. She took a little step back, lifted her eyes hesitantly.
He rolled his eyes then smiled. ‘See what I have to put up with?’ He held out his hand. ‘It’s nice to meet you properly, Olivia. Are you here all day?’
His palm was warm and dry. It felt nice. ‘Yes. Until after the first dance...’
‘It’s a long day for you.’ His gaze shifted to the camera in her hand. ‘That looks heavy.’
His dark hair was on the long side, combed back from a lightly tanned face. She noticed fine lines etched into the skin around his eyes and, now that she was close, she could see kindness in his gaze, something else too that she couldn’t quite pin down. She suddenly realised it was her turn to speak.
‘It is... Heavy, I mean...but you get used to it.’
Lucas was straightening his jacket. ‘Will you take a picture of us, Olivia?’
‘Of course.’ She hung the camera around her neck and stepped forward. ‘Can I sort your buttonhole first?’
He glanced at the crooked rose on his lapel and pulled a face. ‘Charlie, you idiot! You’ve roughed me up.’
She smiled. ‘It wasn’t Charlie’s fault.’ She flipped over Lucas’s lapel, pulled out the long pin then fixed it back into place. ‘Roses are heavy—they can easily slip to the side if they’re not pinned properly.’
‘Is mine okay?’
Zach was looking at her. She tried to ignore the little rush of heat rising through her as she stepped towards him and turned back the lapel of his jacket. This close, she could smell his cologne—citrus top note, woody base.
He lifted his chin while she worked at the pin. ‘You have an eye for detail.’
‘It’s an occupational necessity.’ She lowered her voice as she re-pinned the flower. ‘Lucas has toothpaste at the corner of his mouth. Perhaps you could mention it to him before I take the photo...?’ She stepped back and lifted her eyes to his. ‘Okay?’
There was amusement on his face as he adjusted his collar. ‘No problem.’
She turned away and drew a steadying breath. Zach Merrill was giving her vertigo. As she put some distance between herself and the group, she felt her heart drumming against her chest and when she turned around to line up the photograph and adjust the camera settings she was all fingers and thumbs. She took another deep breath. ‘Okay, gentlemen—’ Four pairs of eyes looked her way. ‘Lucas and Zach, can you stand shoulder to shoulder, please, then Charlie and Will, can you take the wings?’
‘Wingmen!’ Will laughed. ‘I like that!’
They shuffled into position and Olivia framed the shot. It was hard to concentrate on Lucas when Zach’s face kept drawing her eye, but she simply had to—it was Lucas’s day—she had to make sure that he looked perfect. She took some shots, adjusted the zoom, took a few more and then suddenly she went cold. Ralph always photographed the groom and his attendants. She wasn’t supposed to be doing this.
‘Can we do a fun one?’ Lucas was looking at her expectantly.
She smiled. ‘What did you have in mind?’ Her stomach was churning. She couldn’t refuse. Lucas was the client after all, but Ralph was going to arrive at any moment and he wouldn’t like it.
Zach was smiling at her and there was something in his eyes that chased her fears away. ‘He wants to do a leaning shot. Look! We’ll show you.’
She glanced at the big entrance door. No sign of Ralph—hopefully, he was still busy with Sophie and the bridesmaids. She tried to push him out of her thoughts as she watched Lucas and the men arranging themselves into a line. On a count of three, they canted their bodies at a forty-five-degree angle and burst out laughing. She couldn’t help laughing too and fired off a succession of frames. This was what she loved about photographing weddings, being part of spontaneous moments like this.
‘Olivia!’
The camera skewed in her hands. She took a breath and looked over to the vast doorway where Ralph was standing, rigid as a statue. A small shiver of guilt forked through her limbs and then slowly, deliberately, she tucked it away. She’d done nothing wrong. He was just being cranky as usual. She looked over at the men, who were still laughing and jostling each other. They didn’t seem to have noticed anything and she was relieved. She pinned on a bright smile and stepped towards them.
‘Ralph’s here to take your formal pictures now.’ She could feel Zach’s eyes on her but forced herself to look at Lucas. ‘Have fun! I’ll see you later.’
As she walked towards the house she wondered if Zach was still watching her, but then she pushed the thought away because Ralph was waiting for her in the doorway, his eyes flinty, his mouth a grim straight line.
Zach Merrill couldn’t help noticing the way Olivia had reacted to Holdsworth’s voice. She’d sort of curled into herself, then quickly conjured up some fake brightness before walking away. He’d watched the pair of them talking in the doorway. He couldn’t read their lips but he could read their body language. For some reason Holdsworth had been remonstrating with her, and from the tilt of her chin he could tell she’d been fighting her corner, whatever that might be.
He couldn’t imagine what Holdsworth was upset about. Olivia Gardner struck him as polite and professional. How subtly she’d handled the issue with the lopsided rose on his brother’s lapel, the rogue spot of toothpaste. She had an eye for detail, an easy, engaging manner, a lovely smile... She was clearly an asset and he hoped that Holdsworth could see it. Zach certainly knew which one of them he preferred. He came back to the moment, focused on what Holdsworth was saying.
‘Okay, guys, walk forward now, swing your arms, talk to each other...laughing’s good, keep it natural.’
The photographer was lying on his stomach, a plastic sheet spread out beneath him. He was pointing a camera in their direction. They only had to walk towards him but he was making them do it again and again; it was getting hard to keep up the fake chatter and laughter. As they set off for the umpteenth time Lucas leaned in and whispered to him that Holdsworth was costing Sophie’s parents a small fortune so maybe doing every shot a hundred times was how he justified his fee. They both laughed out loud at that one, then laughed all over again when Holdsworth called out, ‘That’s the money shot!’
He was doing his best to be sociable, but now that the ceremony was over Zach was feeling restless. He’d caught up with his family, mingled with the guests, but he’d only been half listening to conversations, smiling in all the right places. It was his brother’s wedding: a special occasion. He knew he ought to be enjoying himself, but it felt too much like work. He’d rather have been talking to the band. He’d seen them rocking up in their van, jaunty strides as they unloaded their amps and speakers, the big black cases for drums and keyboards. Guitars!
He lifted a fresh glass from a passing tray and retreated to a quiet corner of the terrace. He watched Holdsworth directing Lucas and Sophie into romantic poses at the lakeside, waving his hands about, cameras swinging from his shoulders, full of nervous energy. An image flashed into his head—Olivia and Holdsworth in the doorway—an altercation. He scanned the edges of the crowd, looking for the girl’s nimble figure, her chestnut ponytail, the red camera strap around her neck, but she was nowhere to be seen.
She’d been there during the formal family photos, organising them all. Addressing them by name, adjusting ties and corsages, gentle hands on shoulders—turn this way a little please—flashing her warm, bright smile. He hadn’t been able to take his eyes off her. She was lovely...and so good with people, so polished. She’d caught his eye a couple of times and then she’d smiled and blushed a little bit and he’d found himself smiling too because she was flirting with him and for some reason he liked it. In no time at all the family photo session was done. It had gone so smoothly that if he hadn’t seen them fighting he would have assumed that Olivia and Holdsworth were the best of friends.
He shifted his gaze back to the lake. Lucas was facing Sophie now, forehead to forehead. Sophie was giggling and Holdsworth was calling out instructions from behind the camera. ‘Keep it! Hold it!’
He felt a smile growing on his lips. Sophie and Lucas were besotted with each other, perfect for one another. He could see a happy future for them because they were soulmates. That was what he’d written in his speech anyway, but as a deep ache filled his heart he wondered if he’d be able to say those words at all. The climbing voices around him suddenly felt too loud. He parked his glass and slipped away into the garden.
The grounds of Kensall Manor were extensive. As he walked, the voices on the terrace dwindled to a burble then gave way to birdsong. He passed through a wrought iron gate into an orchard and wandered through gnarled apple trees laden with blossom, alive with the buzzing and humming of bees. He let his mind drift to memories of his own wedding day. He could still see Izzy walking towards him through the lemon trees, patches of sunlight dappling on her skin, splashing the silk chiffon of her dress. She’d had that look in her eye, that secret smile she kept for him alone. His heart had buckled in his chest as she’d turned towards him and threaded her fingers into his. She had been his one perfect love, his life, his everything, and now she was gone, snatched from him in a tragic instant. He swallowed hard, plucked a blossom from a low branch. Marrying your soulmate was not a passport to a happy future. The future was as delicate and destructible as the flower he held in his hand.
He drew a steadying breath and checked his watch. He wondered if Alessia had woken from her nap yet. So many new faces, and this big strange house in the English countryside—it was bound to be tiring for a three-year-old. He hadn’t been sure about bringing her at all, but of course his mother was always keen to see her granddaughter, and Lucas had insisted that his little niece should come to the wedding.
He crushed the flower between his fingers and let it fall to the ground. In half an hour the guests were going to be seated for the wedding breakfast and the more he thought about his speech, the more anxious he felt. He checked his inside pocket, touched the paper folded up inside. He wasn’t nervous about speaking in public—as a hotelier, talking to people was an integral part of his life—but the speech he’d written about soulmates and everlasting love would unravel him, he just knew it. Perhaps if he altered some lines here and there, skimmed over the emotional stuff, he’d manage to hold it together. He just needed a pen and a quiet place to do it.
‘Oh, I’m sorry—’ He stopped mid-stride, the breath catching in his throat. Olivia Gardner was sitting in front of a laptop surrounded by camera equipment. ‘I was told this room was empty.’
‘It’s almost empty.’ She smiled hesitantly. ‘There’s only me here.’
He noticed a faint colour in her cheeks as she held his gaze. He noticed his own pulse. ‘Can I come in?’
‘Of course.’
He stepped into the room and closed the door. ‘I need to look at my speech.’
She plugged a device into the side of her laptop. ‘Don’t mind me—if you want to practise, I mean.’
‘It’s not speaking I’m worried about.’ He reached into his pocket for the thin wad of paper. ‘I need to revise what I’m saying.’
‘Ah.’ She pressed a key and looked up. ‘I get it! You’re having second thoughts about giving your brother a roasting...?’
‘Something like that.’ He couldn’t tell her that he was trying to avoid embarrassing himself. ‘I don’t suppose you’ve got a pen?’
‘I have.’ She rooted through the pockets of the jacket hanging over the back of her chair. ‘Somewhere...’
He stepped closer, noticed thumbnail images filling the computer screen.
‘Here!’ She was holding out a silver pen, warm brown eyes fixed on his.
‘Thanks.’ He took the pen, motioned to the laptop. ‘Editing already?’
‘No. Just downloading and backing up. We bank images as we go along, just in case.’
‘Can I see some?’
She glanced at the door and it wasn’t hard to read her thoughts.
‘You don’t have to worry—Holdsworth’s at the lake with Lucas and Sophie.’ He smiled. ‘It can be our little secret.’
She hesitated then met his gaze squarely. ‘It’s not—Ralph’s a very talented photographer—’
‘Who’s difficult to work with, I imagine...?’
Her lips were quirking into a half-smile. ‘He can be challenging...’
‘Extremely challenging, from what I’ve seen.’
She was pressing her lips together hard, trying to suppress a smile but her eyes were giving her away. ‘Ralph’s...okay.’
She might have issues with her boss but she was keeping them to herself. Zach admired her loyalty though he wondered if Holdsworth deserved it.
‘I’d really like to see your pictures. What about the photo you took of us leaning? Will you show me that one at least?’
She scrunched her face up. ‘Well, I do have to flag some photos for a slideshow... I suppose if you happened to be sitting close by, you might accidentally see some images...’
The mischievous gleam in her eye was irresistible. He knew he ought to be looking at his speech, but his curiosity about her was getting the better of him. She struck him as talented and he wanted to know if he was right. He sat beside her then opened up his speech and smoothed it out on the table. There was something joyful about the little conspiracy they were sharing and when he spoke he couldn’t keep the smile out of his voice. ‘I’ll just work on my speech...’
She turned to face him, eyebrows arching. ‘And I’ll go through the pictures I took this morning...’
For a long moment he held her gaze. He noticed the curve of her cheek, the wisp of hair falling against her neck, the sweet shape of her mouth and he noticed the way her expression was changing, how the light in her eyes felt like a soft pocket of warmth—felt like home. Confused suddenly, he forced himself to look away and concentrate on the screen.
Her pictures were good! Sharp, clear, well-composed. The leaning shot made him laugh—Lucas was going to love it. She’d caught some great candid moments on the terrace too. When he saw a familiar little face with thick dark lashes the breath caught in his throat.
‘Stop!’
‘You want to see this one?’
He nodded.
With a click, she enlarged the image so that his daughter’s face filled the screen. He stared at the photograph. Alessia was wearing her mother’s secret smile. She was a happy little girl but he’d never seen that smile on her face before. Suddenly he felt disorientated, stranded between the past and the present.
Olivia leaned back in her chair. ‘She’s lovely, isn’t she? Is she a relative?’
‘Yes.’ He swallowed hard. ‘Alessia is my daughter.’
‘Oh!’ She looked shocked then a little embarrassed. ‘I didn’t know she was yours...’
Two spots of colour were blooming on her cheeks and instantly he felt guilty. She hadn’t seen him with Alessia. His mother had been babysitting all day, and Alessia had been taking a nap while the family photos were being taken. Olivia knew nothing about his situation. All she knew was that he’d been catching her eye all day, smiling at her, receptive to her flirting. Maybe he’d even encouraged it. He’d have to think about that later, but right now he owed her an explanation.
‘Her name is Alessia.’ He swallowed. ‘The way you’ve caught her—her smile. She looks just like her mother.’
He noticed Olivia glancing at the gold band on his left hand, noticed a new flush of colour creeping upwards from the base of her throat.
‘Is your wife—?’
‘No! She isn’t here.’ With difficulty, he held her gaze. ‘She passed away two years ago.’
Olivia’s face crumpled. ‘Oh, no. No! I’m so sorry.’ Her words escaped in a gasp and she lifted her hand as if she was going to touch him, but she didn’t, just held his gaze with glistening eyes. ‘Alessia must have been a baby.’
He nodded slowly. ‘We’d just celebrated her first birthday...’ In his mind he could see Izzy holding the lemon birthday cake she’d made, icing sugar in her hair and on her nose, and that scary moment when Alessia had reached out to touch the single burning candle. He’d blown it out just in time.
Olivia turned to look at the screen. ‘If Alessia looks like her mother, your wife must have been beautiful.’
‘She was...’ He watched her, staring at the screen, chewing her lip. He supposed she was taking it all in, feeling foolish perhaps... He couldn’t tell her he was feeling foolish too. He’d never expected to feel attracted to his brother’s wedding photographer, never expected to be sitting beside her, breathing in the scent of her perfume, telling her about his wife and daughter.
The mounting noise of footsteps and voices in the hall outside seemed to draw a line under the moment and it was a relief. He ran a hand through his hair. ‘I’d better go... Everyone’s coming in...’ He folded up his untouched speech. ‘Looks like I’m going with the speech as it is.’
‘I’m sure it’ll be great!’ She smiled. ‘Actually, it better be great because I’ll be taking pictures during the speeches—you need to give me some good moments!’
There was something reassuring in her gaze, something that bolstered his spirits. He got to his feet, slipped the pen into his pocket. ‘I’ll do my best.’
Olivia adjusted her ponytail and fanned her face with her hands. The great hall was warm in the aftermath of dinner, but it wasn’t the only reason her cheeks felt hot. She was still reeling from everything Zach had told her, felt so stupid for thinking...for imagining... How had she managed not to notice his wedding ring? So much for supposedly having an eye for detail!
She looked across to the top table. He was scribbling furiously on a piece of paper—revising his speech after all. His mother was sitting in the next seat with Alessia on her knee. Alessia was clasping a crayon, bent over a colouring book, concentrating hard, except for the moments when she stopped to look at Zach. Alessia was copying him and he had no idea. Fathers and daughters... She pushed the thought away, lifted the camera and snapped a lady in a pink hat blowing bubbles from a tiny bottle.
Zach had let her down gently she supposed, but the more she thought about it, the more she realised that he’d been at it too with his lingering looks and little smiles during the family photos—it definitely wasn’t her imagination.
She scanned the room for more photo opportunities, snapped a man putting on his wife’s hat, acting the fool. She looked at Zach again. His lips were moving, rehearsing the new words he’d written, her silver pen glinting in his hand.
Maybe the truth was that they were attracted to each other, but a random wedding day crush wasn’t going to lead to anything, especially since a widower with a daughter was the last thing she was looking for.
Too complicated!
She didn’t like loose ends. She liked things cut and dried, wanted someone she could build a life with, not someone who had a life she’d have to fit into. She glanced at Alessia. She knew nothing about small children, didn’t see herself as a stepmother. She was only twenty-four; she was still carving out a career. Emotional entanglements would only take her eye off the ball. She had to push forward, seize opportunities...
She scanned the room, saw Ralph talking to a young couple then discreetly handing them a business card. Networking was easy for him—he had a good reputation, a solid client base. If she started up on her own she’d have to break in and that was difficult, especially since she wanted high-end clients.
Yet again she found her gaze drifting back to the top table. Zach had really liked her photographs. He might recommend her to people he knew. The Merrill family owned a hotel chain after all... Suddenly he looked up, straight into her eyes and there it was again, that feeling that there was something between them. She smiled back quickly and looked away. No! She wouldn’t be able to ask Zach for any favours. He only had to look at her and her head started to spin.
When she saw the Master of Ceremonies approaching the top table to announce the speeches, she lifted her camera. Photographing the speeches was another concession Ralph had made to her. She needed to focus on getting great pictures because, until she found the courage to break out on her own, she needed this job.
