He presses his shoulder to mine. Even though both of our eyes are still trained on the screen, I can feel the grief of his weight shiftjust barelytoward me.
“Don’t ever stop doing this, Chloe. People don’t realize how much they need people with your abilities until it’s too late.”
The heaviness of his statement hangs between us. He doesn’t say anything else, and he doesn’t need to.
I know what he’s thinking about, or rather who, he’s thinking about.
And I wish I’d been around to capture a million memories for them.
If anything, it’s a stark reminder that life may be busy with everything that’s changed, but I can’t stop taking photos just because my studio is on pause, or Phoebe and I are in a new place.
If anything, that’smorereason to take them.
I’ve had a massive chunk of clients eager to do sessions anywhere on the farm I put them, and another chunk I’ve had to refund. It’s been a tough pill to swallow.
But sitting here with Aiden, quietly clicking through our wedding photos, reminds me of why I started in the first place. It wasn’t just because I loved taking pictures, or because it was “fast money” when Phoebe was small.
It’s a tough gig for lots of reasons.
I shift my gaze toward him and startle a little when his eyes are already on me. He wasn’t just looking at our photos; he was watching me as I clicked through them.
There’s no judgment on his face, just quiet understanding.
But there’s also something else beneath. A look that says he’s tucking away another piece of present-day Chloe, just like he did during our wedding ceremony.
I recognize it because I think I’m guilty of the same thing.
It’s probably different when you grow older with someone, and you see them day in and day out. You change together, and many of the shifts probably happen gradually, or you have context for how they evolve.
But we don’t have that.
This Aiden has qualities of the boy I knew, but they’re tangled up with a man carrying a substantial load. A man I don’t really know anymore—not really.
There hasn’t been time to wade through the time we were apart. We just jumped into this thing with both feet.
I clear my throat, suddenly aware of how late it is, when tomorrow will start so early.
HowexhaustedI am.
And how bizarre it is to be sitting here looking through wedding photos like it’s the most natural thing in the world, in Aiden’s house, with his rings on my finger and his last name attached to mine.
I close the laptop and shimmy off the end of the bed, creating distance between us before I let my heart want too much. Though I think that’s a lost cause because it already wants it all.
But he stands and follows suit.
“New rule: if the door is open, you don’t have to knock.” I set the laptop in the chair seat by the window. “In fact, we can swap rooms. You can have yours back,” I start, spinning to face him.
I expect him to still be over by the bed, but he’s not. He’s only inches away. He presses a finger to my lips, and my breath hitches. Then almost as quickly, he drops his hand, and I wish he hadn’t.
I’ve really got to rein it in.
“Do youalwaysworry about everyone else and forget about yourself?” he asks softly.
My heart thunders in my chest. He’s seeing so much more than I want him to, and it’s only been a few days.
I swallow. “Being the only parent doesn’t leave a ton of choice.”
“People don’t do things for you very often, do they?”
