Please don’t post my location.
Please don’t photograph Ellie.
Please don’t turn the best few days I had experienced in years into a caption.
But Jen was already nervous. Refusing could turn disappointment into a story. Agreeing could turn the photograph into evidence.
I glanced toward the market.
A few people were browsing nearby, but no one seemed to be watching us yet.
“Of course,” I said. “Can we do it facing the water?”
Jen nodded eagerly.
“Yes. Absolutely. The light’s better that way anyway.”
It was not.
The light would leave our faces slightly darker and, more importantly, keep Ellie out of the background.
I stepped away from the seawall.
Jen moved beside me and opened her camera.
Her hands were shaking.
“Do you want me to take it?” Ellie asked.
Her voice sounded normal.
Too normal.
Jen handed her the phone.
“Thank you.”
Ellie took it.
Our eyes met for the first time since Jen had said my name.
There was no starstruck excitement in Ellie’s face.
No disbelief.
Only a quiet question and the faint crease between her eyebrows that appeared when she was trying not to react too quickly.
I looked away first.
Jen moved close beside me.
I placed one arm lightly around her shoulders and smiled.
Ellie held up the phone.
“Ready?”
“Ready,” Jen said.
