a step closer to her, bending to give her a kiss on the cheek. “Nice to see you Cassidy.”
The moment his lips touched her cheek, she felt like her legs turned to jelly, like her heart flip-flopped in her chest, and she knew that her own face was flushed, betraying the cool confidence she’d practiced ever since finding out she’d see him again. Cassidy gripped the wall for support.
“Well,” she began, “it’s nice to see you, too.” Then, needing to change the subject and take his eyes off her face, she gestured to the camera slung over his shoulder and continued, “So, photography, huh?”
He persisted in staring at her, making her feel uncomfortable. She pushed a stray hair behind her ear. For what was probably only a few seconds, yet felt like much longer, he studied her face. She needed him to stop doing that. Cassidy folded her arms and raised her eyebrows, waiting for an answer.
“Photography, yes.” He spun to face Carrie. “So, what can Bryan Roemer Photography do to make your special day more memorable?” There was more than a twinge of sarcasm in his voice.
Carrie slugged him in the chest.
Bryan sucked in air. “Really. Tell me what you want.”
She smiled at him. “Well, I’ve got this list.”
The two men exchanged glances, and Cassidy snickered in the background. Bryan looked over his shoulder at her. She blushed, excused herself, and made her way out of the room. He leaned over, following her with his gaze as she went up the stairs. Little Cassidy Baker wasn’t so little anymore.
Chapter 7
C assidy stretched out on the bed in the guest room. The last time she had seen Bryan, he was a confident, cocky twenty-something. She knew the man downstairs was the same Bryan. But he wasn’t; in so many ways, he wasn’t. His eyes seemed hollow, distant. The spark of mischief was gone, and she knew it had nothing to do with age. And what was with the beard and the hair? The Bryan she remembered would never have let himself get so...unruly.
“What did she do to you?” she whispered to the empty room.
She rolled onto her side and pulled up her legs. Maybe she could help him. After all, they’d been sort-of friends once. At least she always wanted to be. Cassidy couldn’t stand the pain that surrounded him, that rolled off him and filled the spaces where he stood. He was grieving, and she knew a thing or two about grief. Grief was greedy; and if left unchecked, it devoured.
When she’d lost her parents, Cassidy’s world had come crashing down. She questioned everything she ever believed. God. Goodness. Justice. Love. In the end, she came to realize that all of those things still existed. No one was out to get her. She could either become bitter, or she could honor their memory. Allowing the grief to consume her would’ve been easier, she supposed. Fighting it took effort. Becoming a stronger person took work. Her parents would not have wanted her to give up, and so she chose not to.
From the looks of him, Bryan gave up a long time ago. The man in the kitchen was broken, and Cassidy was a fixer. She needed to help him. He’d looked at her differently, well, before remembering who she was; she could use that flicker of change, that new status in his eyes.
And Carrie was right. Under all that scruff, he was still incredible.
“You’ll see,” she said quietly. “You will be able to live again.”
Carrie leaned in and motioned for the men to do the same. When they hesitated, she impatiently grabbed their shirts and yanked.
“Listen,” she said in hushed tones, “Cassidy is turning thirty this weekend. I’ve been planning something for her.”
Nick squinted. “You’ve got that look, which I both love and fear about you; what have you done?”
“It’s going to be perfect, and now that you’re here,” she indicated Bryan by jabbing him with one finger, “we’ll have an even number. Naturally, I planned for it, just in case you came through for us,
The moment his lips touched her cheek, she felt like her legs turned to jelly, like her heart flip-flopped in her chest, and she knew that her own face was flushed, betraying the cool confidence she’d practiced ever since finding out she’d see him again. Cassidy gripped the wall for support.
“Well,” she began, “it’s nice to see you, too.” Then, needing to change the subject and take his eyes off her face, she gestured to the camera slung over his shoulder and continued, “So, photography, huh?”
He persisted in staring at her, making her feel uncomfortable. She pushed a stray hair behind her ear. For what was probably only a few seconds, yet felt like much longer, he studied her face. She needed him to stop doing that. Cassidy folded her arms and raised her eyebrows, waiting for an answer.
“Photography, yes.” He spun to face Carrie. “So, what can Bryan Roemer Photography do to make your special day more memorable?” There was more than a twinge of sarcasm in his voice.
Carrie slugged him in the chest.
Bryan sucked in air. “Really. Tell me what you want.”
She smiled at him. “Well, I’ve got this list.”
The two men exchanged glances, and Cassidy snickered in the background. Bryan looked over his shoulder at her. She blushed, excused herself, and made her way out of the room. He leaned over, following her with his gaze as she went up the stairs. Little Cassidy Baker wasn’t so little anymore.
Chapter 7
C assidy stretched out on the bed in the guest room. The last time she had seen Bryan, he was a confident, cocky twenty-something. She knew the man downstairs was the same Bryan. But he wasn’t; in so many ways, he wasn’t. His eyes seemed hollow, distant. The spark of mischief was gone, and she knew it had nothing to do with age. And what was with the beard and the hair? The Bryan she remembered would never have let himself get so...unruly.
“What did she do to you?” she whispered to the empty room.
She rolled onto her side and pulled up her legs. Maybe she could help him. After all, they’d been sort-of friends once. At least she always wanted to be. Cassidy couldn’t stand the pain that surrounded him, that rolled off him and filled the spaces where he stood. He was grieving, and she knew a thing or two about grief. Grief was greedy; and if left unchecked, it devoured.
When she’d lost her parents, Cassidy’s world had come crashing down. She questioned everything she ever believed. God. Goodness. Justice. Love. In the end, she came to realize that all of those things still existed. No one was out to get her. She could either become bitter, or she could honor their memory. Allowing the grief to consume her would’ve been easier, she supposed. Fighting it took effort. Becoming a stronger person took work. Her parents would not have wanted her to give up, and so she chose not to.
From the looks of him, Bryan gave up a long time ago. The man in the kitchen was broken, and Cassidy was a fixer. She needed to help him. He’d looked at her differently, well, before remembering who she was; she could use that flicker of change, that new status in his eyes.
And Carrie was right. Under all that scruff, he was still incredible.
“You’ll see,” she said quietly. “You will be able to live again.”
Carrie leaned in and motioned for the men to do the same. When they hesitated, she impatiently grabbed their shirts and yanked.
“Listen,” she said in hushed tones, “Cassidy is turning thirty this weekend. I’ve been planning something for her.”
Nick squinted. “You’ve got that look, which I both love and fear about you; what have you done?”
“It’s going to be perfect, and now that you’re here,” she indicated Bryan by jabbing him with one finger, “we’ll have an even number. Naturally, I planned for it, just in case you came through for us,
Similar Books
