Page 59 of The Ex Effect
As I fastened studs in my ear, I heard the faint sound of Frankie’s truck rolling up the driveway. One quick spritz of perfume, another plop of lip balm, and I was ready. I grabbed aphone charger and stuffed heels into a bag. Until any guests arrived, I was sticking to sandals.
The door creaked open. “Morgan?” Frankie called out.
“Coming!” I tossed the tote bag over my shoulder and scooted to the living room and stopped. Well, holy hell. God, Frankie washot.I would never, ever tire looking at this woman. After only seeing Frankie either naked, or in jeans and a T-shirt, this version of her was a delicious treat. A crisp, fitted black button-down with a couple of buttons open on top, a gold necklace, and black slacks.
“Hey, beautiful,” Frankie said with a smile, her deep-set dimples popping up. She held my hand and twirled me. “That dress… Oof. Killing me.”
“Yeah, um, I was about to say the same thing. You look amazing.” I swiped my tongue against my lips. “How about we just skip this whole wedding thing and go straight to the bedroom?” I was only half kidding. Was it an age thing, a Frankie thing, or the fact that I was truly in love, that made me damn near insatiable? I pressed my lips into Frankie’s, but my heart quickly dropped.
Frankie kissed me back, but it wasn’t with passion, it wasn’t with longing. It was with… I couldn’t put my finger on it. Sadness? Trepidation, maybe? Whatever it was didn’t feel great. I stepped back and searched her eyes. “Are you okay?”
Frankie’s long eyelashes swept the top of her cheek. She reached for my hand and kissed the top. “Yes, I’m good.” She inhaled and released a slow, unsteady breath. “Big day, though, huh?”
Of course.Frankie might be a very skilled photographer, but she’d never actually shot a wedding before. Ultra-confident, ripped-biker-babe Frankie was nervous. It was kind of cute. “Yes, it’s a big day, but it’s going to be great. The only thing we need to do is put flowers in the vases this morning afterDelilah leaves, keep the wedding party calm, and direct the caterers where to set up. We got this.”
“And, you know, shoot pictures for eight hours.” Frankie grinned and grabbed the tote from me to carry.
“Oh yeah, that.” She gave me one more kiss and led me to the car.
Of course, I was teasing about the minimal work I had to do today. Being the hub of information for the entire day took a ton of energy. From the officiant’s microphone, to keeping the flower girl’s dress clean, to the processional, I was responsible for everything.
I let it go that Frankie was quiet on the ride out, even though Frankie took multiple opportunities to stroke my leg or cheek. Would I ever stop melting at the touch? Probably not. I pushed it out of my mind that at some point, we’d need to discuss the future. But for now, I’d greedily lean into every touch Frankie gave me.
At the farm, I shifted into business mode. “I’m going to set up for the first shot. Need anything from me?” Frankie asked as she tossed the camera bag over her shoulder and grabbed the tripod.
“No, I’m good.” I checked my watch. “Delilah will be here in about thirty minutes and the wedding party will trickle in around ten, ten thirty. I have plenty of time.”
“Cool.” Frankie creased her eyebrows, patted her pant legs, and reached back in the truck for an item with a frown.
When she slammed the door, I held Frankie’s hand. “We got this, okay? I got you. If you need help, I’ll be the best damn assistant you’ve ever had.”
Frankie’s stern face formed into a smile. “God, I…”
I love you?Was Frankie planning on saying that? I felt it to the deepest part of me, and I was sure Frankie felt the same. But she hadn’t said it, and I didn’t want to be the one to say it first.I hated that my traitorous face was probably wide-eyed and starry with anticipation.
“I’m so unbelievably lucky to have you here with me.” Frankie tapped her equipment. “You’re right. You make the best assistant ever.”
Notexactlywhat I was hoping to hear. I brushed off the slight uneasiness in my belly and got to work.
“Oh my gosh…this place. Everything… It’s absolutely stunning.” Olivia, clad in a white bathrobe and rollers in her hair, covered her mouth with her hand. “Morgan, you’re a miracle worker! I don’t even understand how you transformed this place.” Olivia’s gaze slowed, scanning the white linen-covered tables with the farmhouse chic centerpieces, flowers, and Martha Stewart-worthy dinner-table settings. The strung white lights beautifully accented the barn’s high beams, while the tulle, greenery, candles, and candy jars made the former bare wooden bar area warm and inviting.
“Thank you.” I was damn near beaming. This was the most difficult project I’d taken on to date, and I was so proud of the outcome. But having a happy, approving bride…well, that meant everything. “I’m really happy with how it turned out. And thank God for Frankie. I definitely couldn’t have done this without her.”
Olivia grinned. “She is really something, isn’t she?”
More than Olivia could possibly know. These last three months with Frankie had been more than I could’ve ever dreamed. My gratitude bucket overflowed, having Frankie by my side this entire time. “Is Tommy in the RV with the guys?”
Another item for the gratitude bucket? That Pete and Patty had a huge, modern, and fully functioning RV parked on their property. Keeping the bridal party apart until the womenfinished getting ready was always a challenge, but as long as the men had a spot for taking shots from a flask and playing a poker game, they were fine.
“Yes, he is.” Olivia shifted her tote bag to her other shoulder. “My sister will be here pretty soon. Can you show me where I’m going to get ready, then send the women back when they arrive?”
After I escorted Olivia to the “bridal suite,” which was essentially a corner section with added mirrors, chairs, and a room divider for privacy, I grabbed Frankie to let her know Olivia was ready for the “getting ready” photos.
During the next few hours, I developed a deep appreciation for Frankie and her work. Frankie was an absolute master in her domain, even if she’d never shot a wedding before. Candid photos, posed photos, outdoor, indoor, everything looked effortlessly thought-out and organized. She had a way about her, a kind but in-control demeanor that calmed everyone. Phrases like “you’re beautiful, you’re doing fantastic” rolled off her tongue a hundred times, but each time it sounded authentic and genuine. She even coaxed the flower girl down from a pretty hefty tantrum and snapped a few photos until the little girl crashed again.
I escorted the last guest in and stepped outside to where the bridal party stood. “You ready?” I asked Olivia, who nodded enthusiastically while gripping her bouquet. Through the years, I had seen it all…the nerves, brides shaking, crying, some excited and some with thatoh shit, what am I doinglook. But Olivia was calm, settled, and stunning.
The music started, and I motioned the wedding party forward. As the flower girl waddled down the makeshift aisle, tossing flower petals from her basket onto the hardwood floors, I took a quick peek inside as the guests turned their heads to the entrance. Was sitting guests in the same place where dinnerwould be served to watch the wedding march unconventional? Most definitely. And I probably wouldn’t do it again. But, for today, it worked.
