Page 8 of Freefall

“Sounds great.” My voice comes out a little higher-pitched than I anticipated, and my chest flutters.

“Well, take your time and let me know when you're ready to go,” she says. “I’ll be up front.”

I thank her, and she leaves me alone on the large open patio, the sound of her footsteps fading into the distance as the wind laps at my face.

As I take my camera out of its case, I notice the way the light falls on the patio, spilling shadows onto the ground. Bringing the camera up to my eye, I zoom in on a small, hidden area in the corner. It would be an ideal spot for the bride and groom to steal a secret moment away from the rest of the celebration. I imagine them, flushed and smiling. I see Nate standing there, his gaze turned serious as he moves a strand of wind-swept hair from her face, his fingers brushing against her skin. He presses a soft kiss to her lips, and she falls forward a little, her forehead meeting his, but when she turns around, it’s not the woman I’ve been communicating with. It’s not some stranger I’ve never met.

It’s me.

The realization hits me like the waves crashing below, and I almost drop my camera before I steel myself. Throwing it back in the case, I slide the strap over my shoulder and make a beeline for the front of the inn. I pass by the nice woman at the front who helped me earlier, but I don’t make eye contact. It occurs to me that she is probably going to think I’m crazy and not allow me back ever again, but I can’t worry about that right now.

I don’t know how I could have been so stupid. I can’t photograph this wedding. It doesn’t matter how long it’s been or how much I could use the money, there’s no way I can watch Nathan marry another woman.

Nate.

Not Nathan.

My parents keep insisting that they want to help me out with money, especially since I moved back home to be closer to Jace, but I refuse every time. I still have enough left in savings to provide for Daisy and me. They’ve done plenty by letting us stay in their guesthouse, and I can get another few months out of Jace’s car. It’s not like they have a ton of extra money to spare. Despite what people usually assume when I tell them I grew up in Baybridge, my family is not wealthy. We were comfortable growing up, but my mom is a dental hygienist, and my dad is a middle school history teacher. They love their jobs, but they’re a far cry from the CEOs and hedge fund executives who live on our street. My parents’ house was originally purchased by my great-grandfather back when the town was a little unassuming coastal hamlet. It’s been passed down for generations, and since my dad was an only child, he inherited it when his parents died.

Baybridge has since become a mecca for Manhattan executives to lay down roots, which explains its bougie reputation.

I make my way down the street to where I parked the Jeep, having bypassed the valet. I’m not sure the inn would have allowed this hunk of metal on their property even if I tried. Jace bought it used when he was sixteen with money he earned at the country club. That's where everything changed for him.

I sigh, pushing the thought away as I attempt to open the door. It sticks again, of course, but I’m able to get it open after only a few tugs. My hair whips against my face as I cruise down the main road. Daisy asked me to leave the top off when I pick her up today. Even though we live in Baybridge, I enrolled my daughter in Emberfield Elementary because Baybridge doesn’t have any public schools. It’s not just about the money. My parents would have paid for her to attend Baybridge Academy, just as they did with Jace and me, but I wanted my daughter to go to a school that wasn’t that different from the one she attended in Denver. Plus, it’s not like I had the best experience at the Baybridge private schools. I always felt different, like I couldn’t compete with the other students. They had nicer clothes. Better equipment. Fancy cars when they turned sixteen. I never complained because my parents worked so hard and were so proud to send us to such prestigious schools.

My parents have always valued education, so I couldn’t tell them I wanted to go to the public school half an hour away when one of the best schools on the East Coast was down the street from us. It also didn’t hurt that my father got a discount since he worked at the junior prep school.

As I pull into the line of cars and buses at the elementary school, I’m startled by a deep voice. “Harper, long time no see.”

The man next to my car has messy blonde curls hidden under a backward baseball cap, his deep brown eyes reflecting the sunlight streaming through the trees.

“TJ. Hi.”

He leans an elbow against the open window. “How did the big wedding meeting go?”

My stomach contracts.

“Great!” I lie, my voice becoming high-pitched again.

“Good to hear.” He flashes a lopsided smile. “I’m hoping to get a few fall weddings on the books too.”

“I thought you were against photographing weddings? What did you say? They stall your creative flow?”

His smile turns into more of a grin. “You were paying attention,” he notes. “Nah, they’re okay. The pay is pretty good, and it’s not as bad as doing proms.”

It’s my turn to smile as I picture TJ trying to wrangle teenagers into posing for awkward pictures their parents insist on. I met TJ in this very pickup line when we first moved back here, and after finding out we were both photographers, we became fast friends. His daughter is a couple of years older than Daisy, but they also hit it off and have had a few playdates while TJ and I talk about photography. He looks more like a frat boy than an artistic photographer, but his portfolio is impressive. He traveled all over the world after high school and documented his travels through a lens.

“Or worse…family photos.” He shudders.

That pulls a laugh from me. “Aww, you don’t like making silly faces and listening to screaming children while their parents look like they regret every single decision they’ve ever made?”

He points a finger at me. “See, you get it. I knew there was a reason we met.”

Already feeling the weight of the afternoon begin to lift from my shoulders, I contemplate asking TJ if he wants to get the girls together this weekend when the school bell rings.

“Well, that’s my cue,” he says. “It was good to see you.”

“You too,” I reply with a small smile, and then he’s gone.