She was thrilled with everything he was accomplishing and the money it was bringing in for all of them, but that didn’t fulfill her like getting behind the camera did. There was something about capturing a person’s emotions on film that spoke to the deepest part of her. She had accepted that she probably wouldn’t get a chance to marry her soul mate or show off a new baby to the world. Hell, she hadn’t even had a high school graduation, just a GED sent in the mail. But somehow, documenting other people’s happy milestones helped fill the space inside her where she should’ve been storing her own. And it was time to start filling it again.
She picked up her phone to return the first call, but the bells on the studio’s front door jangled, halting Evan from her task. She looked up from her desk with a frustrated huff to find her friend Callie sweeping through the door, her mass of blonde curls staging a riot against the clip fastened at the back of her head. Callie pushed the offending locks from her face and beamed at Evan. “You’re here! I thought you weren’t coming back to work until Monday. I was just about to call you to wish you a happy early birthday when I saw your car parked out front.”
Evan smiled as she hung up the phone and stood. Callie dropped her overstuffed purse to the floor and rushed toward her to give her a hug. Evan laughed while the taller woman squeezed her for dear life.
“Wow, I . . . uh . . . missed you, too.”
“What are you doing here? I thought Daniel was going to keep you all to himself this week.”
“I just stopped in for a few minutes to return some calls before I reopen next week.”
Callie finally released her and put her hands on her hips. “For the record, you are not allowed to take this much time off ever again. I swear if I have to have one more lunch with Flower Shop Trisha, I’m going to keel over. She’s so prim and proper, I feel like I’m having soup with the queen or something. I know she’s probably lighting candles for me at church after some of the stuff I’ve slipped up and told her.”
“Well your immortal soul could probably use all the help it can get.”
Callie plopped into the chair in front of Evan’s desk. “Amen, sister. Though I just finished a weeklong cayenne and lemon juice detox. The way it’s been going, I think even my soul is cleansed.”
Evan snorted. “Why on earth are you doing that?”
Beyond the fact that Callie bashed diets regularly for cutting into her profits at her bakery across the street, she’d always seemed comfortable with her curves.
Her grin turned sly. “Well, a lot has happened since you went gallivanting around the country with that man of yours.”
“Oh, really? Do tell.”
“I have a new boyfriend,” she said in a singsong voice. “A new, devastatingly handsome, completely wonderful boyfriend. Even Finn gave him the thumbs-up in the looks department, and you know how picky that kid is. So I don’t want to look like a dumpling next to him when we go out.”
“Hold up. A new boyfriend? Cal, I talked to you at least once a week. You didn’t even mention you were seeing someone.”
“I didn’t want to jinx it,” Callie said, crossing her arms with a huff. “Every time I tell you about how great some guy I’m seeing is, I find out the next week that he has some catastrophic flaw—like he has an addiction to hookers or is a diabetic and can’t eat cake. You’re bad luck.”
Evan shook her head, amused. Her friend did have abysmal luck when it came to men, but somehow she doubted it had anything to do with a jinx. Cal had a tendency of falling fast and asking questions later. Evan had learned that warning her to slow down was like talking to a coffee table. And hell, who was she to give relationship advice? She was marrying her gay best friend.
She leaned forward and placed her chin on her hands. “All right, so dish. Who is he? What’s he do? And, more important, does he like baked goods?”
Callie sat up straighter, obviously bubbling over after holding back the secret so long. “His name is Brandon. He’s a nurse over at the cancer center. And he’s a total slut for chocolate cupcakes.”
“Sounds amazing.”
“Totally,” she said, her eyes getting a little starry. “He’s picking me up for my end-of-diet lunch. I texted him to meet me over here.”
“Great.”
“He loved the photos you have hanging in the shop, by the way. Said you knew how to make a piece of pie look downright seductive.”
Evan laughed. “My claim to fame—sexy cherry pie.”
“Hey,” she said, pointing at her, “don’t underestimate yourself. I sell more of the products you photographed than any others. Seriously, you have a gift of making things look irresistible on film.”
Evan’s stomach clenched a bit with that last part. A gift. Yes, once upon a time she’d made someone a whole lot of money with that innate talent. She rubbed her arms through her sleeves, trying to fight off the creeping chill that always came with those horrid memories.
“Hey now, there’s an idea,” Callie said, completely oblivious to Evan’s sudden discomfort.
She took a deep breath and tried to refocus on the conversation. “What’s that?”
“I should get you to take pictures of me.”
“Huh?” Evan’s eyebrows knitted.
“Don’t look at me like that.” Callie waved her off. “I’m serious. I’ve been trying to come up with something to get Brandon for his birthday, and I bet he would totally be into some sexy boudoir-style pics. We haven’t, ya know, done the deed yet, so maybe that would get the ball rolling. He’s that gentlemanly type and his slow approach is kind of driving me crazy.”
Evan frowned. “Maybe slow isn’t a bad thing.”
“Pfft! I’m not getting any younger. No use burning daylight. So do you think you could make me look as sexy as that cherry pie?”
Evan pinched the bridge of her nose, Callie’s question only bringing the past farther to the front of her mind—the haunted eyes of the women who’d posed before her camera. The sick feeling that came along with knowing you were sacrificing someone else’s dignity to save your own ass. “I don’t really do that style of picture, Cal.”
“Oh, come on. Don’t be a prude.”
She sighed. “It’s not about that. It’s just, are you really going to trust a guy you just started dating with half-naked pictures of yourself? What happens when—”
She held up a finger. “Nope. Don’t finish that sentence. I’m doing that whole putting positive energy into the universe thing. I’m not even considering that this guy isn’t going to work out. Now will you take photos for me or not?”
“Cal, I—”
Callie’s phone dinged and she checked the screen. Her smile turned florescent. “Oh, he’s so sweet.”
Evan hated that Callie already had that smitten-beyond-repair look. Even if this Brandon was a nice guy, giving your heart to anyone that easily had disaster written all over it. Evan had firsthand experience on that one.
“He’s waiting outside. Sorry to stop by and then run off,” Callie said. “But I only have a little while for lunch. We’re shorthanded so Jessica will probably go on strike if I’m not back by one to help her.”
“No problem,” Evan said, ready to get back to her own work anyway. “We’ll catch up next week.”
Callie pointed a finger at her and arched an eyebrow. “And you are so doing those photos for me. I’ll withhold petit fours otherwise.”
“Hateful bitch.”
She