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31
Lucas
I never expected to see Abbie in Los Angeles.
Actually, I almost never expected to see her again. She’d pretty much slammed the door on anything between us, and I still hadn’t thought of a decent way to try to make it up to her.
She’d thrown me for a loop walking up from that table, and seeing her, it had been like a mirage, had taken me a few seconds to sink in she was really there, camera in hand.
I had so many questions and totally not enough time to ask.
Every time I’d opened my mouth to ask one, she was instructing me on turn this way or look that way or leaning over, fiddling with the lighting set up behind me, muttering about some shadow. I knew she was working and so I went along with it. It had taken me ten minutes to be able to get a comprehensive thought in my head.
She looked good.
Relaxed.
Confident.
Completely different from the last time I saw her.
By the time we were through the headshots, I could see someone peeking in the doorway already. Probably her next appointment. And suddenly, my afternoon had gotten a lot busier. I had time to really make things right with Abbie.
I was going to make them more than right.
I was going to make them perfect.
Abbie brushed her hair back out of her eyes in a familiar move I hadn’t seen for way too long as she set the camera down on the nearby table. She had a small smile on her face that told me she was proud of herself.
I stood up, straightening the cuffs on my shirt, suddenly feeling more nervous than I had in a really long time. “Thanks…”
“No problem.” She glanced back towards the partially open door.
And that was probably my cue to leave.
“I’ll see you…”
“Yeah, definitely.” She took a step towards me. “It was nice.”
“Very.”
She nodded. “Just check with Deana, the receptionist. She’ll have all the info you need on proofs and everything.”
“I trust your judgement, always have.”
A touch of blush crossed her cheeks. “I’ll be in touch.”
“Good.”
I gathered my things and left with one last look over my shoulder at her. She was back at her camera, twisting the lens, and another woman was coming into the room from a doorway I’d never noticed before.
I barely heard a word anyone said as I left the office, making sure to stop and pick up one of her business cards from the counter, then headed out to my car.
I slid behind the steering wheel, put my seatbelt on, and stared at the building.
She was here.
She didn't hate me.
