“Yeah?”
“Absolutely.”
“I was so nervous.”
“You overcame those nerves,” I tell her. “And I promise you’re going to love the result.” I tilt the camera toward her, thumb flicking past the throwaways until I find the wins—the frames where the posture, expression, and light all clicked into place.
“That’s me?” She says it quietly, like she doesn’t want to scare the image away.
I nod, watching the way her mouth curves, confidence blooming where nerves used to live.
That split second when they see themselves the way everyone else does never gets old.
“I didn’t know I could look like that.” She straightens. “My boyfriend is going to love them, but I think I love them more.”
There it is—the best part.
“Thank you again,” she says, before slipping into the change room.
I walk to the door. When I open it, the distant hum of the shop slips in, muffled by the red velvet curtains at the end of the hallway. I hang my camera in my office as I make my way back down the hall.
My phone buzzes, sending a familiar flutter of excitement through me. His name flashes on my screen.
Miss you. Always thinking about you. Had a second and wanted you to know.
I smile so hard my cheeks ache.
I type back something just as soft because this is what we’ve been doing for months.
Texts.
Voice notes in the dark.
Five-minute calls stolen between clients and dinner rushes.
Every time we plan something real, life shoves it sideways. So I’ve been saving the important stuff.
Not a text.
Not a call.
I want to say it, looking straight into his eyes.
My phone buzzes again.
Restaurant’s grand opening soon. Maybe you can come?
My stomach flips.
He told me about the opening weeks ago, tucked in among other things. The menu, the paint colours, how he couldn’t sleep the night they installed the ovens. I’ve had the date circled on my calendar since.
I type:Yes. Absolutely. I’ll be there. I’ve got something I want to tell you. In person.
I stare at the message a second before hitting send.
My heart jumps like I’ve stepped off a ledge. This is it. I’ll finally tell him.
“Thanks again, Shay.” Cindy slips on her coat. “I look forward to the finished photos.”
