“I believe that with your fairy-tale wedding theme, photos like this or this, where they are shot in nature, or even this one in the rain,” I said, pointing to one of my favorite pictures of a bride in a lacy strapless dress laughing in a summer downpour, “could be unique and memorable. This picture especially had a ton of Instagram likes.” I pointed to a photo in which the bride, a ballerina, did an arabesque barefoot in a field of clover.
Addison made a sour face as she flipped through the photos.
“I want mine to be different. I don’t want photos like anyone else. All of these are so basic,” she complained. “Don’t you do anything original? You’re just copying what everyone else is doing.”
“Actually,” I corrected, “a number of those bridal photographers are taking inspiration from my Instagram account.”
Addison sniffed. “I don’t want anything remotely similar to what you’ve shown me. Be unique. That is what I’m paying you for.”
“I was thinking of doing a nighttime shoot with fireflies. It would feel very fairy princess.”
“I don’t want a bunch of bugs on me.”
“It would be unique,” I prompted.
“You should do one with all your exes!” Linneah joked. “And have them all shirtless salivating like dogs and mad that they can’t have you.”
Addison preened. “I am quite the catch.”
“I don’t think Chris would be on board with that,” I said, trying to steer the conversation back to actual implementable ideas.
“Oh, so you think you own him?” Addison sneered.
“I don’t—”
“Good,” she snapped, “because he’s still hung up on me.”
“Mmh.” I clamped my lips together.
“He is!” Addison insisted. “That’s why he left the room, so you wouldn’t see the sexual tension that exists between us.”
Linneah glared at her. “You said you didn’t want him.”
“I don’t want to marry him,” Addison scoffed. “He has all these insane hang-ups. He’s obsessed with thinking women are out to screw him over. I don’t have time for that sort of drama. My current fiancé is older, fatter, and less handsome, sure, but he does anything I want.” She snapped two French-manicured fingers. “Just like that. He worships me. Chris only cares about himself. Unfortunately, while he is easy to manipulate, my fiancé is not good in bed. So Linneah, I needed you to marry Chris so I have easy access to him when I need to blow off a little sexual steam.”
You bitch.
Do not say that aloud!I warned myself.
But Linneah beat me to the punch.
“Bitch! You can’t sleep with my husband!” she screeched.
“I can if I helped you land him. Besides,” Addison bragged, “Chris isn’t going to be able to stay away from me no matter who he’s married to. He said I was hands down the best sex he’d ever had. And he’s been with a number of women. He said I’m the only one that could really give him a good workout.”
I started to feel sick.
“When I made him come,” Addison bragged, “his eyes would roll back in his head. One time he even passed out.”
My brain spun, trying to remember if Chris’s eyes had ever rolled back in his head with me. He had definitely never passed out.
Addison smirked at me. “So you see, I don’t consider you competition in the slightest. Chris is probably just pity fucking you. He’ll get bored—he always does—then he’ll come running back to me.” She laughed at me. “I mean, look at you! There’s no way you’d be interesting at all in bed.”
“He enjoys being with me,” I said hotly.
“Oh really?” Addison sneered.
“Yeah, I have him wrapped around my finger,” I insisted, though the reality was more like Chris had me wrapped around his.
