‘Yeah…’ Zara breathed. A smile was beginning to curl her lips. ‘Oh…yeah…’
‘It might wreck your dress.’
Zara shrugged. ‘I’ve got my second wedding dress to wear for the reception anyway.’ The smile widened. ‘I’min,’ she said.
‘What the hell?’ Joseph watched Zara walk into the alleyway, stepping over broken glass and crushed cans to get close to the bins. ‘Noway…’
‘But, honey,’ Zara said sweetly. ‘You just said you’d do anything for me and this is what I really,reallywant…’
Sophie found herself standing alone in the archway, staring. Wondering if she might be the first person ever to be witnessing the apparent genius of this man who said he only worked alone.
She didn’t get it. The cemetery shoot had been unusual butthis… It was downright disturbing. Within seconds, it seemed, Luc had Zara and Joseph sitting on the ground, surrounded by the disgusting, overflowing rubbish bins. He even brought in more of it, putting broken bottles close enough to touch, tearing up stained newspaper to scatter like confetti and, dear Lord, was that a discarded chicken carcass he was pulling from a metal bin after lifting its lid?
Sophie closed her eyes for a moment. Whatever was going on in Luc’s head was incomprehensible. Strange and dark but… okay, maybe it was weirdly compelling as well. Fascinating, even?
She could hear his voice.
‘Whisper something in Zara’s ear,’ he was saying.
‘Like what?’
Sophie kept her eyes closed. Joseph was extremely good looking and easy company but he definitely wasn’t the sharpest knife in the block.
Luc’s voice was a suggestive rumble. ‘Why don’t you tell her the first thing you want to do to her when you’re finally alone tonight?’
Sophie’s eyes snapped open as she heard Zara’s gasp and then the delighted laughter. Joseph was still whispering something in her ear and then he pulled back far enough to see her face, grinning as if he’d won the biggest prize ever by making her laugh like that. And Zara’s eyes were locked with his and she was radiating joy. Love. The kind of happiness that was impossible to fake.
And that was the moment that Sophie got it.
She could see what Luc was seeing. What other people could see in those dystopian wedding photographs he created. The contrast that put a laser beam on the emotion between two people that loved enough to promise each other the rest of their lives. Something so pure it was glowing brightly enough to make the background irrelevant but also highly significant. How did hedothat? Her indrawn breath was a soft gasp. She didn’t even realise her fingers had moved to touch her necklace.
As if he felt the epiphany Sophie was experiencing, Luc turned his head and his eyes locked on hers.
It wasthatlook. The one she’d never seen from any other human. Sophie instantly felt like a deer in front of blinding headlights. She couldn’t have looked away to save herself. What was he trying to tell her? That for some people the message might be that love could be strong enough to overcome any rubbish that life had to offer? Or was it that he didn’t believe that marriage in general and weddings in particular were worth anything?
No. This was something on an intimately personal level. An accusation, perhaps? Did he believe she’d overreacted? Or that she hadn’t, in fact, missed out on that much by being unable to go through with her own wedding and marriage?
Sophie could feel the muscles in her jaw tightening and a curl deep inside that was partly an echo of grief from the past but also held a flicker of anger for the present. One that finally gave her the ability to wrench her gaze free, and her hand dropped from her neck, forming a fist as it fell.
Sophie knew that this particular wedding was going to be the most memorable she’d ever been involved with. And not in a good way.
The sooner it was over, the better.
* * *
He didn’t need to be here any longer, standing just inside the open front doors of the Château d’Orval, a dark shadow of a man caught between the glow of a hundred candles in the vast fireplace behind him and the thousands of fairy lights and more candles on the main terraces in front of him.
A live band was playing the kind of music that encouraged everyone to get up and dance, champagne was flowing and the laughter was getting louder. He’d done more than simply honour the request of a friend by fulfilling the duties that Greg would have performed as the lead photographer at this wedding. As well as the ceremony and all the formal portraits, he’d snapped candid shots of the wedding reception, the gorgeous food, the speeches, the cake cutting and the first dance.
He’d even done something for himself that had made this day worthwhile. The latest post from Le Phénix had been approved by Zara and had already racked up hundreds of thousands of likes. He might put up the black-and-white image of the couple in the cemetery but, for now, it was the scene in the rubbish that was going viral.
‘Treasure in the Trash’ he’d called it.
Luc looked at the screen of his Nikon camera, scrolling back to find the cemetery images. Maybe he’d call this one ‘A New Life’.
He loved the way the veil was floating and he’d taken a rapid burst of frames so that he could use the one with the ripples and curls that pleased him the most. He went back to the first of that series. To where Sophie was still in the shot. He zoomed in on her face and hands as she let go of the veil, in the split second before she jumped clear. Her hands were still in the air and her head was slightly turned as she looked up to watch the mist of fabric float free.
He zoomed in even more and the resolution of the image meant that the clarity was still razor sharp. He could see how perfect her skin was and even see single eyelashes in the tangle framing those astonishingly dark delphinium-blue eyes. He could – almost – feel the softness of those ever-so-slightly parted lips.
