“I think so, yeah. I heard she just got divorced by one of the other cover models who called me for a reference a few weeks ago.”
“Divorced? Already?” She frowned. “How old is she?”
“I don’t know. In her early forties. Forty-five, maybe?”
Willow stared at me, her face carefully blank. “That’s a big age difference, Ty.”
I stared hard at her as the waitress set our orders on the table, silently asking her what the hell that had to do with anything.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she said once she’d thanked her, and we were alone again.
“It’s like ten years. Tops.” I picked up my fork. “And even if it’s more, or less, who the hell cares? It’s not like we’re in high school. I don’t see why it would matter at this point in our lives.”
Willow took a bite of her food, but her attention was still focused on me. I felt her disapproval like a weight on my shoulders. And I totally didn’t understand why it was there. I put my fork down without tasting anything, my appetite suddenly gone. Jesus Christ. I wasn’t a fucking kid anymore. “What.” The word came out harsher than I’d intended. I loved Willow like she was blood, but I was so tired of her mothering me. She’d done it our entire lives, and recently, it had gotten much more intense. I was a grown ass man, for God’s sake.
“Don’t be mad, Ty. I just worry about you. I want you to be happy. And this woman is just…I don’t think she’s for you.”
“You’ve never even met her,” I ground out. Why I was letting her get under my skin, I didn’t know. But she was. My head was beginning to pound from this conversation.
“It’s just that she’s so much older than you. And divorced? You know there’s gotta be baggage there. Does she have kids? How old are they? Is her ex-husband still around?”
I put my elbows on the table and rubbed my temples. “Fuck, Willow. I don’t know. Where the hell is this coming from? All because I’m a little nervous over seeing a pretty woman again. This is ridiculous.” I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to get my bearings as Willow droned on, her voice coming at me as though through a thick wall.
“Tyler? Tyler, look at me.”
Her hand squeezed my arm. I concentrated on that feeling and tried to refocus. My heart was pounding. What the hell had just happened?
“Are you okay?”
I concentrated on her face, and gradually the roaring in my head eased up and all the little noises in the room became distinct again. The conversations of the other patrons, the soft clinking of silverware touching plates, the music playing from the ceiling, just loud enough to talk over. I looked down at the black tablecloth and was somewhat surprised to find myself still sitting there with my food untouched before me.
“Tyler? Are you with me?”
“Yeah, yeah.” I rubbed my temples again. “Sorry, I don’t know what happened there.”
Her eyes traveled over my face, and then she smiled. “It’s okay. It was my fault. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. Really.”
“I know. It’s okay.”
She picked up her fork. “I really am sorry, Ty. I can tell you’re stressed and I’m just adding to it. I wouldn’t freak out about it.”
Her calm demeanor washed over me. My stomach growled, and I followed her lead, digging into my food. “Yeah, I think you’re right.” Those days I’d lost not too long ago flashed through my mind, but I pushed it aside. It was probably just low blood sugar mixed with my temper rising or something. I’d be fine once I got some food in me.
CHAPTER2
Ailee
Ihit save and moved the photo I’d just finished editing into that model’s file on my computer desktop just as the A/C kicked on in my little studio. With a sigh of relief, I turned my face to the cool—if a little stale-smelling—blast of air. Unfortunately, it did absolutely nothing at all to disperse the heat of the summer sun blazing through the old windows to my right.
For the third time in the last hour, I considered moving my desk from the front reception area to the back room, where the sun wouldn’t beat down on me like a raging hot flash. But, like the other two times, I immediately discarded the idea as soon as I’d thought it. For one, there wasn’t much room back there, as it was filled with all of my backdrops and props. Also, I only did shots out here if I wanted natural light. Which was next to never if I was shooting in the studio. And that was why I did all of my photography in the back room. If my desk was in there, too, I’d have no room whatsoever to maneuver and my hips would be forever covered in bruises from bashing into the heavy thing as I worked. Like most creatives, I would imagine, I tended to get lost in the view through my camera when I was shooting.
Besides, although the thought was nice now, in the middle of the hottest summer on record in western Washington, I really enjoyed sitting here by the windows the other nine months of the year. Even during the rainy winters.
Especially during the rainy winters. I loved the rain. There’s a name for that. Pluvo…something. Pluvio-something? I can’t remember.
And at least my meager A/C kept the sweat from trickling down my back.
Pluviophile! That’s it.
