“Yep. I love weddings! But I also photograph all the events leading up. Then I create a scrapbook for the bride documenting the whole journey. It’s part of the full-service package that my company, Weddings in the City, offers our brides who want the once-in-a-lifetime wedding experience.”
Chris rolled his eyes and took a hard swallow of his scotch.
“Weddings are such bullshit. Honestly, all that money, and for what?”
“A lot of our brides are entrepreneurs, or have other high-paid positions. If they want to treat themselves and their families with their hard-earned money, then what’s the problem?” I asked sharply.
My date shrugged and took another sip of his drink. “I just think it’s disingenuous. I bet they don’t even love their husbands-to-be.”
“They are very much in love,” I insisted then wavered, remembering a few of the weddings I’d photographed lately. “For the most part. But hey, who doesn’t like a party?”
“Uh-huh.”
“You’re pretty high up on your moral high ground, mister, for someone who’s drinking a scotch I paid for,” I reminded him.
Chris grinned at me. “And I told you I’d make it up to you.”
* * *
The Uber pulledup in front of the address Chris had given me after I’d settled the tab at the bar. Normally I was pretty thrifty and would have taken the subway, but it would have been a long ride, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to be alone with Chris for that amount of time. As it was, being in the back seat of the Uber was a lot. He smelled so freaking fantastic—sharp and masculine, with a hint of juniper.
“You live here?” I asked uncertainly as the Uber pulled away, leaving us standing in front of an honest-to-goodness tenement house. Chris heaved his shoulder against the metal front door, and I followed him up the narrow staircase, heart pounding.
Maybe this is it. He’s a serial killer, and I’m going to end up chained in a basement.
“Welcome to my home,” he said, opening a door to an apartment on the eighth floor.
I was breathing hard after walking up all those stairs and tried not to be too obvious as I wheezed for breath.
You need to cut back on the chili cheese fries.
“This is cozy,” I said charitably, trying to pull myself together, and looked around. It was dingy and tiny.
“It’s crowded when all my roommates are here,” Chris said cheerfully, heading over to a window and pulling open the blinds.
“Killer view though,” I said. “My apartment has a view of a cinderblock wall.”
“Put up some mirrors,” Chris suggested.
“No, like it’s literally a wall two inches from my window. Someone goofed when they were building the apartment next door.” I rested my elbows on the windowsill and peered out over the skyline. “I wish I had this view.”
“This doesn’t bother you?” Chris asked me, head slightly tilted.
“The apartment?”
He shrugged. “Everything? I have no money, live in a crappy place, you had to buy my drinks—”
I gave him a wry smile. “I think escorts who look like you probably go for like five hundred dollars a night at least.”
“So you just want to sleep with me.”
“I mean, yeah?” I said. “It’s not like we’re getting married or anything.”
“Why, because I don’t have any money?” Chris demanded.
Aaaand of course this guy is nuts.
Just keep him calm.
