by Laura Burton
Talia raised her eyebrows. "Okay, what are we talking about here?" She couldn't help smiling at the uncomfortable look on Denver's face.
"No, it's fine." He waved a hand through the air, brushing the topic away. "It's nothing."
"Nothing?" Leena nearly shouted. "That's not what you told me! You said they might cancel the entire wedding without these shots. That doesn't sound like nothing to me, but I guess it's not really my problem. I'll see you guys around." She lifted two fingers to her forehead in a salute and turned an about-face, walking off the yacht.
After a few seconds of silence, Talia couldn't wait any longer. "Well, whatever's going on, we wouldn't want this event to get canceled."
Denver laughed a tight-lipped huff, looking nervous. "It won't get canceled."
"So, what is it? What did you need Leena to do? I don't have to be home right away if you need anything."
Talia was so curious that it was eating at her, and watching Denver squirm was more entertaining than she wanted to admit. She grinned when he shot her a glance. "Well?" she prodded.
"Oh, all right," he grumbled with a grin, looking completely unconvincing. "I was asked to get candid shots and was even given the bride’s dress to…" He scrubbed one hand through his hair. "Never mind, it's ridiculous. I can't believe I asked Leena to do it."
"So, what's the big deal?" Talia laughed. "What, does she want someone to strut their stuff in her dress?"
"Eh." Denver groaned. "It sounds so weird now. It’s a replica, so not the actual dress. But she—they, uh, wanted the full effect, you know? A picture at the altar to see exactly what it will look like. The bride is super particular about things like this."
Talia fidgeted, imagining wearing the dress. She couldn't see inside the black garment bag, but she would bet it was something exquisite. The yacht was now the only source of light on the lake, and shimmering reflections of its soft white glow danced around them as she thought. It wasn't a big deal, wearing the dress and posing for a shot. Was she so afraid of the last few weeks that she couldn't even do this?
"It's not a problem," she said calmly, although her heart had begun to pound. She reached for the garment bag, and Denver handed it over, looking guilty.
"It would probably be fine to just take the picture without a stand-in," he said. "So, it's completely up to you, no pressure."
"Hah," Talia laughed. "I'm guessing you've never been engaged before?" She winked back at his perplexed face. "The bride gets what she wants. Period."
In a few short minutes, she was in the dress, and it was indeed beautiful. A bandeau top lathered in lace and a skirt that trailed down in a dozen layers of chiffon. She loved it, even in her tennis shoes.
When she walked out on the deck, the few crew members who were left on board had gathered around, lining the velvet runway to the altar. It felt strangely freeing, this moment. Suddenly, she was in complete control with each step closer. No need to worry about the next step. She walked fearlessly. Bathed in the glowing light of a hundred paper lanterns, with the cool night air brushing across her neck, she stopped at the archway of flowers with her hands on her hips, staring it down and half wanting to kick it over.
The sound of a camera clicking behind her was, she assumed, from Denver. She dropped her arms to her sides, still gazing ahead with fire burning in her chest. He was getting the shots he needed, but Talia had fallen into the surroundings like a strange kind of magic.
Someone touched her hand, and she was startled to be face to face with Denver. He held her hand in his and looked back at her as if he'd been entranced as well. He took her other hand, and they stood that way, facing each other. The wedding couple.
A camera clicked again, and it brought Talia back to a reality where she was broke and abandoned, having been tossed this job by her little brother like breadcrumbs. And here she was, playing out a life she'd never known. A perfect one where the man she loved didn't run away but instead remained steady and strong, gazing back at her the way Denver was. His expression was soft and perfect, and she hated herself for loving it completely.
She took a sudden step back and smoothed her hands along the skirt. "Well, okay then." Her voice was soft, and when she glanced back at Denver she froze, suddenly imagining being wrapped in his arms.
His smile, for once, was at bay, and he took a step closer, reaching ever so slowly for her face. With his fingertips brushing her cheek, he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Talia could barely breathe, suddenly abandoning every caution she'd felt and letting her heart warm as he leaned closer, glancing at her lips and back into her eyes.
"Here you go, got the shots." Someone shoved a cell phone in his face. "I'm callin' it a night," the young man said.
Denver looked into Talia's eyes once more before letting his hand drop and taking the phone. "Thanks."
Talia was dizzy. She brushed past them both and hurried to the bathroom. All she wanted was to get the priceless dress off her body; it was causing all kinds of problems. Her heart beat wildly, and she couldn't stop thinking about the way Denver had looked at her. His eyes had seemed to be reading her thoughts, gazing back at her like some kind of embrace. It had been everything she could have dreamed of…but at the worst possible time. She could feel how off-balance her emotions were, flaring up like the wounded things they were and threatening to have her in tears the longer he looked at her like that.
Once she finally zipped the dress back into the garment bag, she leaned her ear against the bathroom door, making out the distant sound of a conversation, but it was too quiet to decipher who was talking. She inched the door open carefully and peeked into the cabin, finding only empty chairs and tables with sprigs of mint amidst more white lilies.
She laid the garment bag across a chair and hurried out. Through the gorgeously made-up cabin and out the back door, she ran across the ramp as quietly as possible, with relief washing over her. Whatever she'd felt with Denver, she just wasn't ready. Maybe in a week or a month… maybe then. But not now. Definitely not now.
Chapter 3
The next morning, Talia received a text from Kevin. She slurped through breakfast, nearly inhaling her cereal in a few bites. There was an eccentric, high-paying party that wasn't technically her job, but nearly half the assigned crew had called in sick. Something about a company birthday get-together and some bad guacamole.
She cringed. It didn't sound pleasant, but at least the day would pay well. The sooner she was able to afford a plane ticket to Ireland, she was gone. The idea had sprouted in her mind the night before, and she was ready. It had always been her dream for just her, no one else. Not a forever trip, but hopefully long enough for her friends to stop looking at her like a sick kitten. It was hard to move on with everyone cautiously asking about the wedding and how she was feeling. But really, she couldn't blame them. Shaun had run out on her and never looked back. It was definitely a shock…for everyone else, anyway. For Talia, it was more like her suspicions had suddenly taken shape.
She pulled up to a proper mansion with stone turrets and stained-glass windows. It was like something out of a magazine or another land. Definitely not a common sight in Phoenix. Kevin knew how to please the right people. And he never asked questions or batted an eye at customer requests, even if the party was a celebration of the upcoming sumo wrestling tournament in Tokyo.
Kevin's storage container was already on-site, and Talia tied her hair back as she caught up to what looked like two crew members working to unload.
"Are there more people coming?" she asked as she began rolling a table down the ramp.
"I sure hope so," the closest girl answered, lifting a container of linens. "Or this is going to take a few days, and the party's tomorrow."
The grounds were already beautiful, not requiring much in the way of sprucing up. Talia rolled the table to a nicely trimmed lawn just off a back patio, surrounded by fountains and shrubbery.
When a car pulled up and she glanced back, hopeful for some reinforcemen
ts, she suddenly noticed she was flanked by large, loincloth-clad sumo wrestlers shaped into each bush. Their ample shapes left nothing out, defining even their hind ends meticulously well. She stopped in her tracks, looking from one to the next, working hard to suppress her laughter. A smile squeaked through her restraint.
"It'll be a party like none other."
She swung around to see Denver grinning back at her, having stepped out of a car with what looked like half a dozen other guys. Her heart nearly stopped. They were pulling items from the trailer, and Denver lifted the other end of the table Talia was propped against. "Where to?" His smile was something she hadn't fully appreciated in all the glowy darkness of the night before. It was the kind of smile she couldn't help smiling back at, and she did, for probably much longer than she needed to.
She flinched. "Oh, uh, just right here." They walked to the back patio before setting the table up. "So, have you worked for Kevin long?" she asked, not remembering ever seeing Denver at any of the events before—and she would have remembered.
"Um…not long," he answered, heading back to the trailer. "I just heard they had some trouble getting the crew here today, and I figured I had some time off so, why not?" He smiled again and her thoughts scattered.
A massive box was being wheeled past them, and Talia glanced at it curiously.
"Plus, I heard it was a sumo party, and honestly, I couldn't be restrained after that." Denver winked, and Talia couldn't help but laugh.
"I can believe it," she said, taking hold of another table. Denver reached for the next one, and they began rolling tables through the grass.
When they walked past the first leafy statues, Denver bumped into one and feigned surprise, patting it on its large behind. "Excuse me, sir, so sorry. I didn't see you there."
Talia shook her head at him. "Better be more careful," she warned, failing to curb her laughter and erupting into giggles. They set up their tables just as an air pump began to buzz. In the middle of the lawn, a bright red and yellow monstrosity was groaning to life. It lifted in tiny portions before bobbing up from the ground in the shape of a cartoonishly oversized boxing ring.
"What…" Talia never finished her question; her attention turned to a box that was being unpacked next to the arena. A crew member was lifting out one after the other of inflatable sumo wrestler costumes.
"You know what?" Denver asked, heading back to the trailer. "They're going to need someone to test those out just to be sure they're working properly."
"After you," Talia teased, taking hold of another table. She caught the look on Denver's face as she started rolling the table down the ramp. It was the look of a challenge accepted. "I'm kidding," she said, at the same time liking and dreading the steady smile that was growing on his face.
They got the last few tables into place, and Talia hurried back to the trailer to find the centerpieces. She wasn't sure what the crew had come up with, but it only took a few seconds to glance around the room and find them. Each table would apparently be privileged to gaze at a stuffed sumo man perched atop a mountain of candies. It worked quite well together, giving a good balance and color to each table. Sail shades were lifted into place above them, crisscrossed over the tables in a perfect mismatch of colors.
"Talia!"
A voice could be heard on the microphone, and Talia couldn't distinguish whose it was until he laughed—Denver.
"Talia, this is important. You're needed at the wrestling arena for final approval."
With her hands on her hips, she turned to see him suited up, puffed to an enormous size in a sumo wrestler costume. One massive arm waved her forward while he spoke into what suddenly looked like a minuscule microphone. He wobbled and tilted, obviously not used to the bouncy inflatable surface.
She arched an eyebrow back at him as he held up a giant stick with a square-shaped sponge on each end.
"We will battle to the death!" he shouted dramatically, causing more than one crew member to belly laugh.
In their eyes, Talia could see they doubted her. No one really thought she'd follow through, which was exactly why she stepped into a costume and turned on the pump. Inflating it in a few seconds, she climbed onto the mat to glory in the complete shock on Denver's face.
He might have her beat in arm strength, but what he didn't have was balance. Talia bounced toward him, grateful for her summers spent at trampoline parks. She took her weapon—the same marshmallow skewered staff that Denver had gripped in his hand. It felt lighter than she'd expected. She bounced to the far end of the arena, trying to get used to the limited movement in her air-cushioned suit. It prohibited the strangest things, like brushing hair away from her face or reaching for the side of the arena. Her suit fought her every move.
But at least Denver was struggling too. He tottered to one side the second he tried to release the microphone. Finally, he settled with tossing it to a crew member while they laughed back at him.
"One round," Talia agreed, twisting the weapon out in front of her and acting like she knew what she was doing. Really, she felt like she'd been wrapped in a mattress and told to skip rope.
"I'll go easy on ya," Denver said with menace in his eyes.
Talia jumped forward and held one marshmallow end, swinging the other in a strong swipe across his ankles.
He fell to the side and bounced on his puffy costume belly, looking completely undignified as a roar of laughter lifted from the crew around them.
"No need," she said, feeling sassy in her gigantic suit. She flicked her hair behind her shoulder dramatically and spun her weapon like a baton.
Denver struggled to his feet, laughing. "You caught me off guard, that's all." He narrowed his eyes. "Now let's see if you can handle my attack—Yah!"
He tipped the end of his marshmallow weapon so that it knocked hers almost out of her hands.
She gripped it tighter and pushed one end at Denver. Their marshmallow ends crossed and struck, back and forth, until Talia's hand slipped. Instead of lifting it in defense, it fell out of her grip, and Denver's weapon smacked her in the head.
She tumbled to the side, landing on her back. Rolling over was more of a struggle than she realized, and she laughed until tears came to her eyes.
"Sorry!" Denver yelled, landing beside her and causing her to bounce away, arms flailing. He crawled closer with some difficulty. "I didn't mean to do that!"
"It's okay, Denver." Talia laughed. "I can handle being hit with a marshmallow."
She finally sat up with her poofy legs sticking straight out. It was the only way to manage it. Denver sat next to her, looking at her in awe.
"Say that again," he said, with a smile lifting one side of his lips.
"It's just a marshmallow," Talia managed to curb her laughter and released a deep breath. "I'm fine."
"No, not that," he countered.
She paused, looking into his dark eyes. They were deep and calm, and he smiled with the same ease.
"The part where you said my name."
A door closed behind them, making Talia flinch and glance away to see a group of men coming from the house. Their loud voices were boisterous as they bantered and laughed, making their way to the inflatable ring.
She pushed off her hands, pulling the top of the suit off in a panic. If these people were the clients, she didn't want to give them any reason to complain. She hopped out of the legs and caught sight of Denver attempting to do the same. His foot caught halfway, and he tumbled over, bouncing clean over his head in a somersault.
There was no time; the group had nearly reached them. Talia hopped down and caught the last bit of their conversation, realizing they were speaking Japanese. But they seemed much less interested in the inflatable sumo ring and much more interested in Talia. They pointed and waved her over before she could walk away.
She stepped cautiously toward them, hoping someone in the group would switch to English soon. They seemed so thrilled with the magazine they were passing between them that she couldn't help
but lean over, catching a peek at the cover.
Talia's picture stared back at her from the cover of the magazine, which wasn't as prestigious a work as she would have liked. More similar to a tabloid. But there she was, dressed in some stranger's priceless wedding gown and standing next to the most handsome man she'd ever met. She couldn't deny it now, not when his image was plastered across a magazine, standing with her hands in his. It was an incredible shot, and if she were to make a list of looks, he was everything she could ever wish for in a man.
She looked at the group around her, but their attention had changed, sweeping over to Denver as he finally rid himself of the inflatable costume and hopped down from the ring.
"Hello, gentlemen," he greeted. "What can we do for you?"
"Misser Caldon?" one of the men asked, his voice booming. A few heads turned in reaction.
Talia smiled in anticipation of Denver's reply as they held the magazine out, asking questions she couldn't translate. She imagined how they would laugh about their picture together and giggled, waiting for his eyes to find hers.
But Denver's face had gone slack, staring back at the magazine with a shock that seemed close to horror. The expression had her mind spinning, searching out a reason why he would be so mortified to be on the cover of a magazine with her. Hadn't he been the one searching her out and starting up conversation? Had she somehow misread him?
"Misser Caldon, is you, yes?" the man asked, his broken English fumbling up the question.
Talia started. "Caldon?" she asked, recognizing the name but not sure why.
The man looked at Talia, pointing to her image on the cover. "And you? This you?" He was ecstatic, his friends nearly bouncing around him as they looked back and forth from the cover to the two silent people in front of them, waiting for an answer.
"I'm sorry," Denver said, waving a hand in front of them as if he couldn't stand to hear one word more. "I've—I've gotta go." He didn't offer a single explanation and rushed off with a face as pale as death.
