***Warning: Pardon the mush. I couldn’t resist.***
He: She’s beautiful in any angle.
He pressed and released the shutter, hoping to catch the muted light of the afternoon in her hair.
She turned away just as a soft breeze blew over the field. She called out: “Hon?!”
He almost forgot about “Hon.” The fiancé. The lucky bastard called “Honey.” The viable choice. He whose name appears beside her name in the wedding invitation he almost shredded.
He: Of course. An engagement photo shoot won’t be complete without the groom-to-be of my bride-supposed-to-be.
He bit his tongue. The words remained unspoken. He’s used to this – not speaking up.
He: What good would it do? She already made her choice. And has that…that creature to prove it.
“Thanks for doing this pre-nup shoot. You’re the best photographer I know,” she cheerfully said, obviously flattering her best friend.
She: Probably the densest, but the best guy I know. I can’t possibly wait forever until you come to your senses, can I?
He: She’s looking at me funny. I should say something nice like ‘Thanks for the wedding invite… I’m happy for you.’ NOT. Pick me! Pick me!
“Can’t go wrong with an engagement shoot in the field, right? Even with overcast skies, eveything’s perfect,” he managed to say as he forced a smile. He fumbled with his camera, avoiding her gaze.
“It’s perfect,” she agreed.
She: You’re perfect.
“Hon” arrived, out of breath after running from the other side of the field. He sidled up to her, finally entering the frame, and placed his hand at the small of her back.
The camera’s viewfinder fogged up. The image of the smiling couple blurred.
All he could see clearly was her face.