The bride is a mess.

Lauria Gentry, my bride-to-be client, found out she was pregnant three weeks ago. This morning, she found out she’s gained six pounds since the dress fitting. I need to take poignant pictures of the most perfect day of her life. Instead, Lauria’s standing in front of a full-length mirror, mascara running down her face, as her mother and I attempt to cinch her into a corset that will allow her to fit into the wedding dress she paid $16,000 for without constricting her tiny pregnancy pooch.

Ben shakes his head as he watches us attempting to tuck and shift the bride’s soft flesh into the right position to make the corset fit. “On one hand, I don’t think you should have to do that to feel ,” he remarks. “On the other hand, that’s metal as fuck.”

Lauria finally laughs for the first time today and I lose my grip on the laces. “I’m sorry,” she says, sucking in her belly again.

We finally manage to get her curves in the right place so she can squeeze into her dress, and I’m able to get at least ten emotional shots of Lauria’s mom helping her clean her face before the stylist redoes her makeup.

By the time the ceremony is over and I’ve gotten enough pictures of the bride and groom’s first dance, I’ve cemented my role as the coolest wedding photographer ever. I secured two clients right outside the church after the ceremony. I snag another two when Ben agrees to perform acapella, a never-before-heard song he claims he wrote the night before. And when I hear the lyrics, I believe him.

I manage to get a few good shots of Ben singing on the stage, though my vision is blurred by tears. When he finishes, he signs a few autographs then heads over to join me near a table piled high with wedding gifts.

He places a kiss on my cheek and stands behind me as he leans in and whispers in my ear, “Dance with me.”

“I’m working,” I reply, my eyelids fluttering as he nuzzles his nose against my earlobe.

“Just one dance, then I’ll leave you alone,” he says, his lips brushing lightly over my neck. “I promise.”

I shake my head, but the words that come out of my mouth are, “Just one.”

He grasps my arms to spin me around so I’m facing him, smiling as he carefully removes the camera from my hand. Lifting the strap from around my neck, he moves a couple of wedding presents so he can set the camera on the table. The joy in his eyes at getting his way is so pure and absolute it hurts. He looks like a kid on Christmas morning.

As the band plays “,” he grabs my waist and pulls my hips flush against his. I focus on my breathing as I reach up to coil my arms around his sturdy neck. His smile never fades as he leans down to rest his forehead on mine. As he sings softly to me about dancing under a harvest moon that shines in my eyes, goose bumps spread over my skin as my body floods with dopamine. I close my eyes and think, I could die right now.

“I need to ask you something,” he says halfway through the song.

I want to tell him to keep singing, to never stop singing. Instead, I open my eyes and respond, “Ask away.”

He pulls his head back a bit so he can look me in the eye. “What was the worst part about…the breakup? I need to know exactly how much I hurt you. You deserve for me to hear that.”

I can’t think of a worse topic to discuss at this moment. It’s the ultimate buzz-kill. But Ben did help me get some clients today, and he’s turned Lauria’s perfect day into a fairy tale. And he’s right, I do deserve to tell him exactly how much he hurt me. If this is what he wants to hear, I’ll give it to him.

I draw in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “The worst part?” I reply. “The worst part was that I didn’t see it coming.” I look into his eyes as I try not to get emotional while I allow my mind to wander back to those dark days. “First, I wondered if maybe I’d hit some sort of , and you didn’t want to be around for the downward slide. Then, I just started to question my sanity. I kept thinking: If I was so wrong about something so important, what else am I wrong about?” I swallow the lump in my throat as his right hand reaches up to clasp my face. “Did all the people who claimed to love me secretly hate me? If you never loved me, was our whole relationship an act? Why didn’t I see it? Am I that clueless? Or... or am I... Am I just unlovable?”

He shakes his head as he brushes away a tear from my cheek. “I hate myself for making you feel that way,” he murmurs. “You’re the most lovable person I’ve ever known. You’re the only person who keeps me lying awake at night questioning every decision I’ve ever made.” He lays a soft kiss on my forehead. “You drive me insane.”

I smile as I stare at his chest. “I can’t believe you got dressed up for the wedding. I love when you wear a suit.”

“Why do you think I wore this?” he says, smiling when I look up at him again. “Everything I do, I do for you. All damn day, you’re on my mind,” he says, laughing when I roll my eyes. He lands a soft tap on my ass. “And on my nerves. You’re under my skin and in my fucking marrow, Char. But I’m sure you already know that.”

I shake my head. “I don’t know. I feel like maybe you’re just acting like the old Ben I fell in love with. Maybe when I give in, you’ll turn back into Evil Ben, the one who broke my heart.”

He draws in a sharp breath through his nostrils. “Evil Ben was the one who was acting. This is the real me, and I’m telling you that I love you. I love you so much, I can’t fucking breathe when I think of how I hurt you. It kills me to know I made you feel unworthy of love. I’d rather die than ever make you feel that way again.”

I sniff loudly and shake my head. “I have to get back to work.”

“No,” he says, grabbing my face in both hands now. “Listen to me, Char. You. Are. Loved. You always have been and you always will be. And someone is going to get to love you. I hope to fucking God that someone is me. If it’s not, then I’ll accept that. But I won’t let you go on believing that you’re not loved. Do you understand me?”

I chuckle through my tears. “God, you’re annoyingly persistent.”

He bites his lip as he smiles. “And you’re aggressively resistant to my charms,” he says, grabbing an unused cloth napkin off a nearby table and using it to dab my face.

I shake my head as I set the napkin on top of a wedding gift. “Not resistant,” I say, grabbing his hand and laying it over my chest. “Beating a million miles a minute right now.”

His smile widens. “That’s like music to my ears.”

Before I can reply, he leans in and places a tender kiss on the corner of my mouth. He doesn’t pull away, though. He remains frozen in place, the two of us suspended in this moment of uncertainty: Should we or shouldn’t we?

My stomach tightens into a ball as I await his next move. Just when I think he’s going to pull away, his mouth falls gently over mine, stealing my breath like a wave crashing over me. His lips are soft and tender as his hands come up to cup my face. His tongue slides into my mouth, tasting like the champagne we drank earlier as it brushes over mine. A quiet moan issues from deep inside me and he responds with a low growl, like an answer to a question.

But the only question in my mind is: How long can we make out before I have to get back to work? I hope that growl is Ben’s way of saying forever. God, please let it be forever this time.