Page 122 of The Nanny and the Hothead
She exhaled an audible breath as if a weight had been lifted. “I fell in love with photography at an early age.”
“Did your parents get you a camera for your birthday?” he asked, watching her through the viewfinder.
Her bottom lip trembled, but she regained control. “I got my first camera from Harper’s grandmother when I was twelve.”
“Harper? The crazy one? The big hat and winter scarf chick?” he asked, watching her transform. The darkness in her eyes faded, and the last ounce of whatever was dampening her spirit disappeared. She smiled at him through her lashes as he snapped another picture.
“Yes, that Harper,” she answered, stifling a laugh. “We were up in her attic, and I found an old Canon AE-1 camera inside a tattered leather bag. The kind that uses thirty-five-millimeter film—nothing electronic or high tech about it. Harper’s grandmother told me I could keep it. There were tons of those little canisters of unused film in the old bag. And I was enamored with it from the start.” She stared at a spot beyond his shoulder. “I must have taken hundreds of pictures of Harper, Libby, and Penny that summer. It was the first time I felt in control of what my life looked like,” she mused as if she’d fallen back in time.
“What do you mean by that?” he pressed.
“Taking pictures of my friends and my favorite places, and even the night sky filled an empty part of me.”
“Just the sky?” he asked.
A sweet smile spread across her lips. “I’d wait, staring into the blackness, hoping to see a shooting star. It might sound silly, but when I’d catch one, it was like it was meant for me—like I was in control of what went into the frame—my frame.”
“But not your family?” he asked. He wasn’t the biggest family guy either. His parents had passed in a car accident when he was barely four years old. He had no real memories of them. His grandpa had tried to do his best to raise him, but the two had never been close.
He watched her, observing the sadness that clouded her expression as a realization hit. For as much as she knew about him, besides her asshat ex, awful old boss, love of photography, and her lightweight drinking status, he knew very little else about her.
She pressed her lips into a tight line. “I’m an only child. Well, not exactly. I have stepsiblings. My dad has two kids with his new wife. They’re in Kentucky. But I don’t know them well. I’ve only seen them a handful of times.”
“And your mom?” he continued, finding it hard to believe anyone would turn down time with her.
Charlotte shifted in her seat. “She’s quite busy in Florida with her boyfriends. She seems to have a new one each time we talk, which isn’t very often. Like my dad, she doesn’t have much time to spend with me. I try to keep in touch with them, but I don’t think I fit what they wanted in a daughter,” she added, then glanced away as if the reality of that statement sank in. “You probably didn’t want to hear all that.”
He couldn’t stop himself. He snapped another picture. The honesty etched in her expression was too beautiful not to record. “I’m sorry about your family.”
“Why would you be sorry?” she asked through a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“Because they sound like jerks, and I was a real jerk to you, too. You don’t deserve to be treated like that.”
Her expression lightened. “Mitch, you were a real jerk to everyone.”
“Were?” he tossed back.
“Yeah,were. You’re not the same person I threw that salad at.”
He stared at her as that delicate invisible thread connecting them looped around his heart. He wanted to know more about her—memorize every smile, catalog her every quirk, and see the world as she saw it.
See the world as she saw it?
A rush of euphoria washed over him. That was it. That’s where he’d start.
He set the camera on the table, then gazed at the key at the hollow of her neck. “You’re right. I’m not the same person. And I need you to do something for me so I can continue on this path.”
“Okay,” she replied with the tinge of worry to her tone, which he understood.
He did sound a little nuts.
He held her gaze. “It’s going to take everything you’ve got, Charlotte. And I need it now. Right now.”
Twenty-One
Mitch
“Mitch,I don’t understand? Are you feeling all right?” Charlotte asked, her brow furrowed as she looked him over.
