Page 62 of Doing It for Love

“Um, Elizabeth? Try to smile in this one, okay?” Helen, our engagement photographer, says. She’s laughing, but it’s one of those really awkward laughs people use when they just want to get out of the damn place as soon as they can.

I tighten my grip on Landon’s belt loop, my whole body soaked in sweat from my thick wardrobe. Seriously regretting the winter theme as the unusually bright November sun beats down on us in our beanies.

Normally I’d be celebrating this weather, but the frostiness between me and my fiancé trumps it. Landon and I have been practically forced to touch each other. I bet Helen wonders if one of us needs a green card.

“Okay, Landon, relax your hand. Squeeze in together. Elizabeth, smile. Landon, rest your forehead on hers. You have to smile, too. Look each other in the eyes. Elizabeth, keep your finger in his belt loop, but rotate your wrist so we get the ring. Okay…Stay still…one, two, three. And another, one, two, three. One more, smile, don’t drop that smile, Landon, you need tosmile.”

Landon’s jaw is so clenched I think if Helen were a man he’d have decked her by now. And as upset as I am at him for being just as pissy as I have been, we need to get through this. So while I’m trying to “gaze fondly” into his eyes, I drop the façade, pull major duck lips, and cross my eyes.

His jaw unlocks as the first smile I’ve seen today breaks out on his face. Helen snaps a few pictures, so I give Landon a few kissy faces, too. He closes the tiny space between our lips and the small peck sends electric static down the back of my neck.

“That’s great,” Helen says, breaking what was barely a moment. “Playful works for you guys really well. Let’s move over to the gazebo for a couple shots.”

I increase the distance between our faces, and Landon’s jaw tightens right back up. I stuff a Mr. Goodbar from my pocket into my mouth when he’s not looking.

Helen takes more shots of us by the gazebo, by a tree, in a pile of snow, of us throwing snowballs at each other—that was actually pretty stress relieving, and we got supercompetitive and she said there were a ton of shots that were useful. But even after she drives off with a positive smile, I doubt the shoot is full of romantic, Save the Date–worthy pictures. Just another Hurdle I’m basically stumbling over.

“How long will you be this afternoon?” Landon asks when we get in the car and strip out of our coats and beanies. I’m already pulling out my phone to tell Theresa the pictures are done and now we can get my dress! The winter sale started today. Time to take that baby home.

“Shouldn’t be long,” I tell him, pushing my phone back into my pocket. “You editing tonight?”

He shrugs. “Probably. I need to use Jace’s computer at the studio though. It’s easier to edit from a desktop.”

“Call him.”

“You’re okay if I’m a bit late?”

“Sure. Theresa will keep me company.” And I can wear my dress around the apartment in an attempt to untwist my panties.

He presses his lips together and starts the car. The speedometer reads “something’s bugging your fiancé” as we head home, but I don’t say anything, worried that if I do we’re just going to fight again.

So I just take his hand and squeeze it twice, keeping my gaze out the passenger window. After seven Mississippis, he squeezes back.

—

Theresa pulls and pulls on the zipper, but it won’t budge. I’m sucking in so hard I feel like my belly button could pop out my butt crack.

“I’m sorry, Liz,” she says after a gusty sigh. “It’s not going to fit.”

No, no, no. Ithasto fit. This is THE dress. “Give me two seconds to breathe and we’ll try again,” I say, determined not to let my chocolate indulgence over the past two months be the cause of my dream dress demise. I prop myself up against the wall of the dressing room and relax my stomach before she starts pulling at me again.

“I…I think you’re SOL. Look at my fingers. I’m going to be drawing blood if I tug on that zipper one more time.”

“But…this is…this is my dress.”

She puts a hand on my upper back, and I refuse to see the complete surrender in her eyes.

“It fit last time you put it on, didn’t it?”

I lift a shoulder. “I thought so. But I couldn’t zip it myself, so I zipped as much as I could.” My eyes drift to hers and I straighten my back. “What am I going to do? I can’t lose an entire dress size between now and the wedding.”

“You could…if you give up the chocolate.”

I think about the day I’ve had, and the only good thing so far has been that Mr. Goodbar. “It’s the only thing keeping me sane.”

“Then have sex.”

“I’m not flaking out!”

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