It was an idea she’d had after a quick trip to Maine over the weekend had given her some spectacular pieces she could do something with on her own, not just for publicity. They’d been good enough to give her the rights, which was typical, but immediately sent her searching for a lawyer for the more complicated projects.
The trouble with growing higher in demand was that everything got a little bit harder.
“Did Dan say when he’d be back?” Mal asked in an offhand way as she turned back to her computer and started going over the pictures Jenna had asked for again.
“Three, I think,” Taryn said around the pen in her mouth, swishing her chair back and forth so her floral skirt swayed. “Go to lunch. Caroline will shoot you if you miss it.”
Mal shuddered and rubbed at the back of her neck. “I really don’t know if I can stand the Inquisition again. It was bad enough when Jenna came, and she doesn’t know anything.”
Taryn made a noncommittal noise but didn’t turn to look at her.
That was how things had gone. No mention of Hunter, thank goodness, but everyone knew he still texted and called—not nearly as much anymore, and Mal never returned any of them. But the reminder was painful.
Dan and Taryn had been understanding and supportive, overwhelming her with their response, but the lack of answers or explanation left them in a sort of limbo. They knew not to ask about it and pretended Lake Lure had been just another job, but the sympathy had also faded, which Mal understood. They were on her side, but she hadn’t given them anything to be sympathetic about. She knew that if she ever decided to share, they would be all ears and probably have popcorn ready, but until then, it was business as usual.
“Go, Mal,” Taryn urged, turning at last. “I’m serious. Aunt Cady got my number somehow, and if she calls me one more time…”
Mal groaned and clicked through a few more pictures. “I’m sorry. She’s impossible.”
“Yeah, but she’s also sending me cobbler, so it’s fine.” Taryn laughed and went to the fridge they’d put in the back. Mal heard her rummaging around, and then it suddenly stopped.
“Mal,” Taryn’s voice said slowly, “why are there three pints of Ben and Jerry’s in the freezer?”
Mal winced. “For emergencies.”
Taryn marched over and stood directly in front of her. “The work freezer?”
Mal shrugged. “Emergencies happen at work, too.”
Taryn turned Mal’s chair and leaned forward so they were face-to-face, her long, surprisingly tame red bangs falling from behind her ear. “Okay. You don’t want to talk about sexy boss man? Fine, I get it. But pull yourself together, woman. You had three days on your couch with nachos, and I said nothing–”
“The breakfast nachos were a really good invention,” Mal interrupted stubbornly, folding her arms.
“—and I knew you were buying ice cream like it was melting, but I got that, so I said nothing,” Taryn continued. “And then you came back to work and were driven like crazy, and I thought, ‘Great! She’s back and ready to go!’ Don’t go back to the boys, Mal. Think of your hips.”
Mal gave her a look. “That’s what you’re most concerned about? My hips?”
Taryn smiled mischievously. “What else would I worry about? You could use some help in other areas, but ice cream is no respecter of body parts.”
Mal snorted and covered her mouth, which made Taryn grin and move back to her chair.
“You’re a tough cookie, Mal,” Taryn said lightly. “Nothing breaks you.”
She looked at Taryn for a long moment, wondering if the girl was stupid or just being funny. She had seen Mal in her darkest moment and screened her calls for a full week. She knew Mal had been broken. She was still broken, to be honest, but she was better—much better.
Mal shook her head and went back to her computer, one more group of wedding pictures to look through and mark for retouches before she went off to meet her visiting family.
“Do you want me to do that?” Taryn asked her in a quiet, understanding voice.
Mal shook her head. “No, I’ve got it. It’s just wedding breakfast stuff.”
“I got a shot of Sophie sneaking bacon at that one.” Taryn sighed, leaning back in her chair. “Some vegan she is.”
Mal ought to have laughed, but she couldn’t. There on the screen in front of her was Hunter. She was supposed to be seeing Taryn’s shots from that day, not hers, but this one she remembered. She’d gone around taking pictures of each table of guests, as Jenna had requested, and she’d taken a few extra shots of the bridal party table. Hunter had leaned closer to Tom, and the two looked as thick as thieves.
Something about Hunter’s expression, the hint of a knowing smile, the teasing, adoring light in his eye, the dark stubble even though he’d shaved, all combined to make her go for the extra shots, focusing on him.
And he’d known it.