Page 4 of This Love
This made mine smart, too.
Dad held out his arms. “My beautiful daughter.”
I walked into his embrace. Vinnie snapped the shots. I was careful not to smear the makeup artist’s careful work on his shoulder.
“Got it,” Vinnie said. “Gorgeous.”
When I pulled away, I asked, “Can I see?” It was pointless, but I tried anyway.
Vinnie held the camera close to his chest. “No way, boss lady. This is my gig today.”
“Okay, okay.” I smoothed the lace across my bodice. It was already irritating my skin. Everything about the wedding was fancier than I liked, but Dad wanted to go all out. Ceremony on the green at the Barton Creek Country Club, a sit-down dinner after.
When he’d first laid out the plans, I’d balked. Was he trying to make up for the decade of my life he had missed?
Or that my mother wasn’t allowed to attend?
Dad had insisted that no, this was what he’d always wanted for me, for all three of his girls.
It felt extravagant. Tucker and I lived simply. This dress alone cost the equivalent of two months’ rent.
“You’re calculating money in your head again,” Dad said. “I can tell.”
Guilty.
I couldn’t help that I kept a running tally of expenses all the time. I’d been completely on my own when I turned eighteen, living in a women’s shelter to escape my mother. It had been terrifying, not knowing the basics of normal life, like how to use a cell phone and being thrust into the world of rent, utility bills, and holding down a job.
The fear was imprinted on my soul and tattooed on my hip, the words angled so I could read them.
Mom is bad.
Vinnie slid closer, kneeling near my feet. I recognized one of our signature shots, getting below the bouquet and showing the bride’s face above her flowers.
My half sisters, Amanda and Jennifer, slipped into the room. They were my only bridesmaids and wore fitted dresses that floated to the floor in light pink chiffon. They had chosen them. I’d had no idea what to suggest.
Jennifer looked impish at eighteen, her pale hair a riot of perfectly spiraling curls. We’d celebrated her high school graduation a few weeks ago.
Amanda, home for the summer from Tulane, was tan and chic, with a smooth French twist.
Both of my sisters were so much more elegant than me. They took after their mother.
I prayed I never took after mine.
“Ava!” Jennifer cried. “You look so beautiful!”
Vinnie held up a hand. “Don’t get in my frame.”
“We won’t!” Amanda backed away.
Tina stepped inside the room. “Can I come in?”
“Of course!” I called.
Vinnie sighed. “I suppose we have the shot.”
I dropped the pose and wrapped an elbow around his neck. “It’s fine. You’re amazing.” I tried to peek at the screen on the back of the camera, but he held it away.
“No cheating, Mija.”
