Page 62 of Host for the Holidays
Madi walks away suddenly, heading toward a young couple taking a selfie nearby.
“Want me to take one of the two of you?”
“Yes,please,” says the girl in a British accent. “That would be brilliant.”
I stick my hands in my pockets and watch as Madi chats with them. She’s a natural at making conversation with strangers. She gives them a bit of direction on where to stand, joking with them until they look more relaxed. It’s fun to watch her like this, in her natural habitat. This couple has no idea how lucky they are to have Madi do this for them, even if it’s just a phone picture. They sure as heck won’t get a thirty-photo burst with only one and a half of them in the frame.
Madi takes a few variations of shots for them, then hands the phone to the girl and asks if the photos are what she was hoping for.
The girl—Laura—swipes through them and smiles wide. “They’re perfect.”
Her boyfriend, Luke, nudges her. “I told you we should just ask somebody to take it.”
“The results aren’t usually this good, love.”
“Madi knows what she’s doing,” I say, stepping forward. “She’s a professional photographer.”
Laura’s brows go up. “Are you really?” Her gaze goes to the bag hanging at Madi’s side. “I should have brought my camera after all. We really only came out for this one shot tonight before we go to dinner, but since I’ve totally given up on getting any decent photos of us on my DSLR—may as well hand a tourist a bomb to dismantle—I left it behind. What do you shoot?”
“Canon,” Madi says. “What about you?”
“Canon as well. Only the best, of course. Which body do you have?”
I raise my brows. This conversation just got weird.
But Madi opens the flap of her bag and pulls out her chunky camera. “The 5D Mark IV.”
Laura’s eyes go wide. “ME TOO. Favorite lens?” She’s unabashedly grilling Madi now.
“Oh, tough one.” Madi’s mouth twists to the side for a second. “Maybe the 85?”
“1.4?”
“Yes.” Madi says. “I tried the 1.2, but I like this one better.”
“Oh my gosh, I’ve been dying to try the 1.2. How was it?”
Madi scrunches her nose. “Not as good. And for $1300 more?”
“No thanks,” they say in unison.
I look at Luke, who shoots me a look likeOnly you get me.But I’m just intrigued. It’s like listening to a foreign language.
“Should we give the two of you some privacy?” Luke teases them.
Laura slips her arm through Madi’s. “Yes. We’re photography soulmates, and I’m stealing her away from . . .” She looks at me.
“Rémy,” I say, but I can’t help but steal a nervous glance at Madi. How many times can people assume we’re a couple before she vows never to go out in public with me again?
She meets my gaze, seeming less worried about it than I feared. “Rémy is my Airbnb host.”
“Oh, wow,” Laura says looking at me. “So you’re from here?”
I nod.
“I never would have thought that. Your English is amazing. I assumed you were American.”
“What a compliment!” Madi is looking at me with pure delight on her face. She turns back to Laura. “Hey, I don’t know what time your dinner reservation is, but do you want me to take a picture of you guys on my camera? I can email it to you—the RAW file, even, in case you want to edit it yourself.”
