“Maybe,” Ash said. “Or maybe not.”
Amber stuck out her tongue at him. “I’m trying to help. I still feel awful for what I did.”
“Don’t. This is nobody’s fault but mine. Jenna and I were in no position to make a marriage work two years ago. Not the way God intended.” He kissed Amber’s forehead. “Go find Toby so you can start your honeymoon.”
She walked away. Her gown swooshed with each step. His little sister was a married woman, a wife.
Ash should get used to being a confirmed bachelor. The only woman he wanted didn’t want him.
He saw Jenna standing on the other side of the room and joined her. “Toby was correct. You are the right photographer for this wedding.”
Jenna fiddled with her camera. “Thanks.”
Ash wanted so much more than her gratitude. He wanted a second—make that third—chance. “Jenna—”
“I’ll e-mail a link when the proofs are ready.” Her tone was polite, measured. “Amber and Toby are getting ready to leave. I need to photograph their exit.”
Always the professional. Ash wouldn’t stand in her way. “Go.”
What was he going to say, anyway? I’m sorry? Forgive me again? He hadn’t a clue what to do. But maybe God would know. Ash closed his eyes, and for the first time in a long while he prayed, a heartfelt prayer of thanksgiving and gratitude for all he had, and a petition for what he didn’t have. But he realized that wasn’t right, and instead he prayed that God’s will be done for him, for his family, and for Jenna.
The sun dipped below the horizon. White lights twinkled in the darkness, illuminating trees and the gazebo at the Sweetwater Country Club. Jenna stood off to the side where she had a panoramic view of the bride and groom’s exit.
A lively song played over the speakers. Amber and Toby danced their way to a waiting limousine. Laughing guests blew bubbles at the happy couple.
Jenna captured the departure with more pictures than she could count. Her job was finished, and she couldn’t be happier with the photographs she’d taken or more relieved to know she could finally go home. She’d negotiated a tightrope of emotions today. Each time she saw Ash she thought she might fall, but she hadn’t.
Thank you, Lord.
In the hallway outside the ballroom, Jenna packed up her gear, everything from lighting to the photo booth props she’d set out during the reception.
Guests exited the ballroom with their favors—white boxes containing lavender-infused jam, lavender-infused honey, and a lavender satchel. All three items were made by Toby’s mother, a woman who reminded Jenna of her own mom.
She wanted to hear a friendly voice, but with the threehour time difference she’d have to wait until tomorrow. Maybe she could still catch Colton.
“Long day.”
Ash. The one voice Jenna didn’t want to hear. Friendly, yes, but the sound made her nerve endings twitch. She placed the lens in its protective case. “Weddings usually are.”
“I see why your parents suggested eloping.”
Her fingers trembled. She tightened her grip on the lens case. She didn’t want to look at him. “Makes sense for certain situations, but if every couple eloped I’d be out of a job.”
He handed her a small, square, gold box. “This is for you.”
“You’re paying me. You didn’t have to buy a gift too.”
“Open it.”
His firm tone surprised her. She lifted off the top, then removed a small piece of white padding. A silver charm—a frame similar to the ones she used with her photo booth props—was inside.
His thoughtfulness tugged at her heart. “So pretty. Thanks.”
“The back is engraved.”
She looked up at him, noticed his intense gaze. “You shouldn’t have gone to so much trouble. I’m just doing my job.”
“I wanted you to have this.”
She flipped over the frame. Words were etched into the sides: Jenna and Ashton on the top, June 22, 2013, on the right side, A Picture Perfect Love on the bottom, and 1 Cor. 13:4–7 on the left side.
She reread the date. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. She tried again. “That was going to be our wedding date.”
“This was your wedding present.”
“You kept it?”
“Every time I thought about throwing away the box, I couldn’t. I want you to have it. To see that even if I wasn’t completely solid in my intentions, I did care two years ago. I still care about you.”
Air rushed out of her lungs. Nerve endings tingled. She prayed for strength.
“A picture perfect love says it all,” he continued. “That’s what I thought we had the first time around, but I was wrong. The only perfect things are the photographs you take and hang on your studio walls, but whether the poses are orchestrated or candid, they aren’t real. Real love can be messy. Mistakes are made. But no matter what, the love remains. As His does with us. Mine has with you.”