That expression was all for her.
If only she’d known then that he was playing her, that he’d been leading her on all week, despite what he’d said. She’d felt the warning signs, that it had all been too easy and too impossible, but she’d let him lead her around and around in circles until she was dizzy with the ecstasy of it. She’d known better.
She skipped ahead quickly, clearing her throat and tugging on her vest with one hand, feeling that something about her was off and needed to be set to rights. She smiled faintly at a few shots of her, taking secret pleasure in how good she had looked that day. She’d actually taken more care with her hair and makeup since then, but still nothing to that extent. That wasn’t going to happen ever again, unless Caroline traveled with her on every major project.
The next shot appeared on her screen, and her breath suddenly vanished, and her chest seized all at once.
That moment; that wild and breathless five-second moment. It was there.
Mal was at the food table, holding a plate in one hand and the scoop for fruit salad in the other. Hunter was just to her left and behind her, hand on her right hip, his face close to her ear, whispering. Mal was smiling softly and leaning into him.
Neither were looking at the camera, but they didn’t need to.
That picture showed two people so in love that the rest of the world had fallen away, stealing a moment for themselves amid the chaos and noise, perfectly content just to be close to each other, coming alive with suddenly blinding brilliancy.
Tears welled up in her eyes, and her throat constricted painfully. “Uh,” she tried, choking on the words, “I think I will let you take over.” She clicked ahead to the next one and got up, reaching for her purse. “You’re right. Caroline will be mad if I’m late. They flew all this way to visit me; I should at least be on time.”
“Sounds good,” Taryn said, spinning around in her chair. Her eyes flicked to Mal’s computer screen, then back at her, her expression suddenly knowing. “One question: was it another girl?”
Mal hesitated, then sighed. “Yeah. Flame from his past.”
“Did you know?”
She shook her head, clamping her lips together. “We never talked about past relationships.”
“Really?”
“It was only a week,” Mal reminded her, the words hitching in her chest. “That’s not enough time for anything important.”
Taryn gave her an odd look, serene and sad. “I guess not. Have fun at lunch. Bring back breadsticks. I need you to help me with the saturation of the fashion shots before I send those off.”
Mal nodded, smiled, and left the studio with a wave at Ashley. Walking the streets of Denver by herself, Mal let herself cry, as she did several times a week when her guard was down. Never sobbing anymore, just sad tears that gently flowed like streams of misery down her cheeks.
How could something not real hurt this much?
Her phone buzzed, and she looked at it.
Hunter.
Wednesday at noon—right on time. Sometimes, she let it ring, wanting him to think she just didn’t have her phone nearby and missed the call. Not today. She hit the ignore button and turned her phone off. She wiped her cheeks, forcing a smile on her face as she headed for the restaurant to meet her family.
Hunter sighed and set his phone down on the desk, rubbing his forehead. He knew she was ducking his calls, but this was the first time it had gone to voicemail that fast. Today must be a bad day.
He glanced over at the picture on his desk, as he did multiple times a day. Tom sent it to him after Mal sent them the proofs from the wedding, so it wasn’t retouched or anything. It was from the first sunrise shoot, one of the few he’d taken after Mal had tossed him the camera, and it was of her, laughing and standing in the water with the sun behind her.
He was fairly positive Mal had no idea it had been in the proofs. She would never have sent that one on. Taryn or Dan had probably tossed it in, and he was beyond grateful they had. It was in black and white, which seemed to make it that much more special to him.
That was his girl.
His heart ached for a moment, and he leaned back in his chair, rubbing his chest absently. Not a single word from her since the reception, and no one else could tell him anything, either. He’d tried calling every mutual acquaintance, and then her assistants, but they were unfailingly loyal to Mal, much to their credit, and he never got anywhere.
Tom had told him about Jenna’s visit with her, and she said Mal looked well—a little skinny, and tired, but she was getting more clients, apparently. That was good; he wanted her to be busy. He wanted her to have work. He wanted…
Well, he wanted her, but that seemed to be more and more of an impossibility with every passing day.
He hoped that with time, she would mellow out of whatever had her so upset, and they would at least be able to talk. He had no idea what he had done to make her hate him suddenly, which made fixing it impossible, and that drove him crazy. He’d priced airfares to Denver more times than he would ever admit, but he knew that wouldn’t help anything.
This wasn’t a romantic comedy film where the guy chases after the girl and an explanation is put out there, followed by a rekindling of love and a happily ever after. He wished it was that simple. But Mal wasn’t a grand gestures kind of girl, and she wasn’t a dreamy-eyed romantic. She was a realist and stubborn to the core. If he’d done something to shake her, it would take a lot of time for her to reconsider letting him back in.