Page 90 of That Reilly Boy
We’re halfway to Colleen’s when Cara turns to say something to Penny and sees the box sitting on the seat beside the dog. “What’s in the box?”
“Wedding photos.”
“Oh.” She snaps back around in her seat, staring out the windshield. “That’s fun.”
“I got them by email, too, but I’d prefer to show them to the family without getting fingerprints all over my laptop. I did forward the link to the online album to your email, though, so you’ll have them.”
“Why are we showing them to the family at all?”
“Because it would be strange not to. Going through the wedding proofs and everybody picking the ones we want high-res copies of for framing is part of the fun.”
“I don’t see anything fun about encouraging our mothers to choose their favorite wedding photo of us to hang on their wall.”
She sounds like she’s going to cry and we’re almost to Colleen’s, so I reach over and cover her hand with mine. “I know, Cara. I don’t love it, either. But my mother and Hope have both asked me about them, multiple times. Maybe I can drag my feet on actually getting the prints. Hell, maybe I can make up a story about data corruption and how all the photos were lost. I’ll figure it out, but right now, we’ll just get through this.”
“You could have come up with the data corruption story instead of bringing the photo book,” she mutters.
“Contrary to what you seem to think, I’m not that great at lying.”
She barks a humorless laugh. “I’ve seen no evidence that you’re not great at it.”
So we walk into my mother’s house annoyed with each other—me carrying an anxious dog and Cara carrying a box she wants nothing to do with.
Of course Colleen zeroes in on the photographer’s name on the side of the box immediately. “They’re here!”
We manage to talk her into eating first, since the meat’s already on the grill. The tension doesn’t ease between Cara and I, and she spends most of her time talking with Daisy and AJ or cuddling Penny. Nobody seems to notice, though Hope sends me a few questioning looks. I just smile.
When it can’t be put off any longer without Colleen spontaneously combusting, we all gather in the living room to look at the proofs of the wedding photos. My mother plops herself right in the middle of the couch with the book, with Daisy under her arm. Hope sits on one side, and Aaron looks between me and Cara.
“I have the digital album,” I tell him. “I’ll follow along on my phone.”
“Me too, since I’ve already seen them,” Cara lies, earning an arched eyebrow from me. She gives me one of her own while pulling out her phone. “You can all look at them together.”
There’s a lot of oohing and aahing from the couch, but I can’t resist watching Cara’s face as she slides from photo to photo. I know it’s hard because I’ve already done it three times. Each trip through the album broke my heart a little more, but I saved a few of them to my phone, even though they’re not the final product.
“A Sharpie could fix this one right up,” I hear my mother say, and I know she’s come to the one of us with both of our mothers.
“Mom,” I snap, and her head jerks up, as though she’d forgotten Cara and I are in the room.
“Sorry,” she says, sounding sincere, but thankfully, Cara’s pretending she didn’t hear any of it.
I know when they reach the photo that’s my favorite because Colleen and Hope both gasp, and my mother touches her fingers to her lips. It was the first one I saved to my phone, and I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve looked at it. I’d probably make it my lockscreen wallpaper if I was younger and didn’t have my phone out in professional settings so often.
A moment later, Cara catches up on her phone because I hear her sharp intake of breath. She looks at me, and even though the shimmer of tears in her eyes breaks my heart, I give her a warm smile before turning to my family.
“Our favorite, obviously.”
The photographer caught us dancing, framed by the flowers adorning the gazebo’s arch. Cara’s head is back, as if she’s laughing, and I barely recognize the soft, warm expression on my face as I smile at her. We’re in each other’s arms, the rest of the world forgotten, and we look like two people genuinely in love.
“That’s the one,” Colleen says. “That’s the one I want for framing. An 11x13.”
“Hey,” Aaron says. “You framed an 8x10 of me and Hope’s wedding portrait.”
“I’m the oldest,” I say just to annoy him. “Mine should be bigger.”
“I framed the size you gave me,” Colleen tells my brother. Then she turns to me. “Fine. I’ll take an 8x10, then, so they match. My two happily married sons and their beautiful brides.”
It hurts so much I can’t look at Cara, and I’m not surprised when she gets up and offers to take Penny out for potties. Penny looks confused because she didn’t ask for that, but she loves Cara enough to follow her out to the backyard. I want to go with them, but instead I give Cara her space and keep my eyes on my phone while my family flips through the rest of the book.
