I wake up in an unfamiliar bed with navy sheets. The room smells of cologne and ink. I smile before I turn over, remembering the night before. I close my eyes to stretch, reaching my arms out above my head, then turn over.

There he is: perfect hair tousled for a change, the shadow of morning stubble on his cheek. He’s still sleeping. I listen for a while to the sound of his low, husky breathing. I lean over and kiss his cheek. He smiles without opening his eyes.

We both jump when his alarm suddenly goes off.

Cole sits up and rubs his bleary eyes. He picks up his cell from the bedside table and frowns. “Shit. It’s after eleven.”

“What’s wrong?”

He’s already leaped out of bed and is pulling his closet door open to pull out a shirt and pants. I sit up, pulling the covers around me, watching him go into a frenzy to get ready.

“I have to be at a venue by noon. Another uptown wedding.”

“Oh.”

Cole turns back to me with his arms full of clothes and offers a regretful, apologetic smile. “A lot of people get married on Saturdays. I’m sorry, Soph. I have to go.”

He rushes away into the bathroom, and a second later, I hear the water running.

I hug my knees, close to tears but holding them back. You can’t begrudge him a job, Sophie. At least it’s not Sudan.

Less than ten minutes later, Cole steps back into the room with a towel around his waist and wet hair freshly toweled. He sits on the edge of the bed and reaches out to me. “I really am sorry.”

I turn away from the sight and shrug. “It’s work. There’s nothing you can do.”

“People arrange these things months, even years, in advance. You can’t let down a couple on their big day.”

“Of course not.”

“Plus, I have to pick up Dennis on the way—he doesn’t drive. We have to go all the way uptown.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“There’s a spare set of keys in the dresser. Take your time. Make yourself at home— have a shower, and grab breakfast. Take anything you want. I’ll call you.” He leans in to kiss me, offers one more apologetic smile, then leaves.

I hear the door shutting behind him. I rest my head back against the pillow and swallow back tears. This isn’t how I imagined our “reunion.”

* * *

I stare proudly at Cole, all dressed up in his best black suit for my parents’ twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. I still can’t believe that he’s my husband. It’s been four weeks since we signed that marriage certificate and I became Mrs. Tanner.

It’s been three weeks since Cole was taken onto the paper’s books as a photographer-in-house. It’s been difficult, having him appear and disappear like a Jack-in-the-box, but he promised to be here tonight, and here he is.

I stand on my tiptoes to kiss him. “Our first big family event as a married couple.”

Cole grins. “It doesn’t seem real.”

“Who knows? In twenty-five years, maybe everyone will be rolling up to our milestone wedding anniversary.”

“I hope so.”

I hope so, too. My family was absolutely shocked when I told them that Cole and I planned on tying the knot, and they showed up only because they loved me—and not because they supported our “impulsive decision to get hitched” in the slightest.

Cole and I didn’t listen. We love each other, and we know that this is the real deal, no matter what anybody else thinks. Looking at him now, I’ve never been more in love. He’s so handsome in his suit, and despite our recent arguments, he’s been true to his word: not just my date to my parents’ anniversary, but my husband.

I drive us to my parents’ house—Cole sold his car to buy new camera equipment. I’ve been his chauffeur ever since, but I don’t complain. That’s what good wives do.

It doesn’t matter, anyway. Tonight, Cole is doing what good husbands do. I’m on his arm as we walk into the party.

This is the first time that many of my family members have met Cole, and the only opportunity they’ve had to congratulate us on getting married.

My aunt congratulates us with barely disguised disdain. “Congratulations, Sophie. It would have been nice to get an invite to the wedding.”

I hold onto Cole’s arms for support and smile as graciously as I can at sour old Aunt Georgia. “It wasn’t really a wedding. We only went down to the courthouse.”

“You could have had a proper wedding if you’d taken a little more time to think things over.”

“We’re happy, Aunt Georgia.”

She forces a smile. “That’s all any of us want for you, sweetie.” Aunt Georgia disappears to go and judge somebody else’s life choices.

I turn to Cole and make a face. He looks equally agitated. “Jesus, I don’t have many fans here, do I?”

“Oh, ignore her. Her daughter married a man who collects those mechanical bass that you stick on the wall. You know, the ones that sing.”

Cole snickers. “Really?”

“Yes. So, no matter what she has to say about you, her son-in-law is a weird fish man.”

“Strangely, that does make me feel better.”

“Come on. There’s bound to be someone here who’s genuinely happy for us. There’s my mom’s best friend, Hannah. She eloped, too, and she was only sixteen at the time. She and David are still going strong.”

“I thought we weren’t using the word ‘elope’?”

“You know what I mean.”

We find a connection with Hannah and Dave, and start to enjoy the night. The drinks are flowing, and the speeches follow. My relatives are being won over by Cole’s charm and interesting travel stories.

Then his cell rings. I tug on his sleeve, begging him with my eyes to let it ring out. “Leave it, Cole. Please. It’s a special occasion.”

Cole takes the cell out his pocket and checks the caller ID. “It’s work.”

I grab onto his wrist to stop him from answering. “I’m sure it is, but you promised me that you’d be here tonight.”

“And I am. Let me quickly take this call, Soph. It might be about where they need me tomorrow.”

Reluctantly, I let him go. What’s the point in working at the bank and driving him around if you’re only going to hold him back? “Fine.”

Cole takes the call, pressing one finger into his open ear and weaving his way out of the packed room. A couple of minutes later, he returns, and before he even says anything, I can tell from his expression that I’m not going to like what he has to say.

He holds out his hands to placate me before he even beings to explain. “Honey—”

“Don’t ‘honey’ me, Cole. Just go.”

“There’s been a shooting.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I can be there in ten minutes.”

“Great. You might get to see the body. Wouldn’t want to miss a corpse on your parents-in-law’s wedding anniversary.”

“Come on, Soph. We’re in this together.”

I glare at him. “Yes. We are.”

“I’m sorry, babe. I don’t have time to argue.” He leans in to kiss me, and I turn my face away. His kiss lands on my cheek. He sighs. “I’ll see you at home tonight.”

“I think I’ll just stay here.”

“Tomorrow, then. I love you.”

“Yeah.”

He leaves. I want to cry, but it would spoil my parents’ special night, so I don’t let anyone know how broken up I am to be abandoned—again.

Deep down, I already know this isn’t working, and we’ve only been married for five weeks. I look around at all the faces in the room, imagining each of those relatives just waiting to say, “I told you so.”

When people start to ask where Cole is, I gush and sing his praises, telling everyone who listens how hard my new husband works, and how talented he is.

The truth is, I don’t care a bit about how talented or hard-working he is. I just want him here.

* * *

Eventually, I pull myself up out of bed. I don’t even have any pajamas with me, so I borrow one of Cole’s T-shirts while I make some coffee and roam around the apartment. The smell of his fabric conditioner has already become familiar. I miss him already. It felt so good to be in his arms again.

I pour a mug of coffee and wrap my arms around myself, pacing around the apartment. I stare at those photographs and newspaper front pages on his living room wall. It’s easy to see how talented Cole is, and I feel terrible that he’s lost his dream, but when my eyes settle on the picture of Haiti, I shudder.

I’m glad he’s away from all that. Even if Cole isn’t with me now, at least he’s somewhere safe. I can’t imagine that uptown wedding venue collapsing on him.

Walking around the apartment, my eyes are drawn to a photo album on the bottom shelf of a bookcase in his hall. Cole’s photographs are usually on display somewhere prominent, so I’m curious as to what’s inside his private stash of pictures.

I carry the album into the living room and sit with it on my lap. I open it and smile to see the first few pictures. These haven’t been taken by Cole—they show him as a young child. The pictures are blurry, out of focus, and tinted orange with age and old film, but Cole is smiling in them.

There he is in his little swimming trunks in front of a paddling pool. Another with him wrapped up in his mother’s arms, grinning widely. Poor Edith; she passed away too soon. I always liked Cole’s mom.

I flip through the pages, seeing Cole’s life in pictures. Now I’m taking a closer look, I recognize the album as one I’ve seen before, the first time I met Cole’s parents. Edith had insisted on showing them to me after we got married. She’d made me feel like family. A warm feeling spreads through me as I turn the pages. My heart stops when I get to the last three.

All the photos here are from our overseas adventures. Most of the pictures are of me. I remember the moments that Cole took them. There I am, standing under those pink trees.

When I woke this morning, I was doubtful that I could do this again; all the uncertainty of Cole’s work and being last priority. But now, looking at these photos, I remember why I first fell in love with him.

Maybe things really could be different.