Chapter 2
I stared at the words “every single photo” and took a screenshot.
Then I typed, “I didn’t shoot these. You sent them to the wrong person.”
Mia replied almost immediately.
“I’m sorry. I’m messaging several studios at once. I mixed up the chats.”
I closed the conversation and set my phone beside the gift box.
Luke was worried about his wedding ring showing up in Chloe’s photos.
It had never occurred to him that I might see them.
I opened my contacts and called my sister.
“Can I stay with you tonight?” I gripped the phone, bracing my other hand against the edge of the table. “I want to move out.”
“What happened?” She paused, her voice turning serious. “Where’s Luke?”
“I’ll explain when I see you.”
I looked at the lid of the gift box. My throat tightened.
On the other end, I heard a chair scrape across the floor.
“I’ll come get you,” she said, her voice gentler now. “Pack what you need. We can talk when I get there.”
I looked down at my left hand.
A faint mark still circled the base of my ring finger.
“Okay.”
After we hung up, I took a travel bag from the closet and packed some clothes and my important documents.
In the bathroom cabinet, our toothbrushes stood side by side.
I took mine and closed the door.
Walking through the living room, I stopped beside the tripod.
I’d positioned it that morning to face Luke’s usual chair.
I removed the camera and packed it with the spare batteries in my camera bag.
I had a shoot booked for tomorrow.
I needed to make sure I had all my equipment.
While I waited for my sister, I sat down at the computer and connected my hard drive.
Along with the original photos, the folder contained a work order the studio had sent to the retoucher. I sent out the same kind of document myself, listing image numbers, deadlines, and client requests.
I scrolled down.
Then I stopped at the client information.
Luke was listed as the contact.
The session date was today.
But the booking had been confirmed three weeks earlier.
I checked again.
He had arranged this shoot three weeks ago.
I picked up my phone and found our messages from that day.
“Our anniversary dinner is booked. Six thirty. Make sure you keep the evening free.”
That was my message.
Luke had replied with a hug emoji.
Underneath it, he’d written, “Of course. I’ll be there.”
I stared at those words until the screen went dark.
And this morning, all he’d offered was an excuse about a client changing the schedule at the last minute.
My phone vibrated.
A new message from Luke.
“I’ve been in meetings all day. I’m exhausted. Have you eaten?”
I didn’t reply.
I turned the phone facedown and backed up the work order along with the screenshots of our messages.
My sister texted to say she was ten minutes away.
I zipped up my camera bag and was about to shut down the computer when a thumbnail at the bottom of the work order caught my eye.
The attachment was labeled “Client Reference.”
I recognized the pale blue backdrop.
I moved the cursor over the image and clicked.
It was a sketch I had drawn myself.
I’d mapped out every detail of that shoot, from the lighting positions to where the two of us would stand.
It had never appeared in my portfolio.
In the bottom right corner, the note I’d written to Luke was still there.
“When we have a baby, let’s take photos like this.”