Wedding Flirts! 5 Romantic Short Stories

by Lisa Scott

  When the priest announced them husband and wife, the crowd erupted in cheers and Kristen’s mother slumped against her husband, presumably in relief that the deed was finally done. Moira imagined quite a few cocktails in that woman’s future. And in hers, after this day. But no, Moira didn’t drink on the job. She’d be sure to down a glass of wine or two when she got home.

  It was time to hustle downstairs and photograph the procession out of the church. Moira smiled, seeing the bride and groom scoot out of the church hand in hand. She’d photographed countless weddings, and had a good sense of which couples were going to make it. Kristen and Tony looked smitten and happy.

  It was a feeling she’d never known. Of course she’d had boyfriends, but no one who made her think, Yeah, I want that. Thing was, she did want that. She wanted a husband and children to love the way she wished she’d been loved. Guess there’s a reason so many musicians sing about not getting what you want. Happens a lot in real life. Maybe she’d have to settle for professional satisfaction. Perhaps that was all she’d ever get.

  She and Jackie took plenty of pictures of the couple and the crowd. People were mingling, preparing to move to the reception site. She sensed someone approaching, and realized it was Craig. Luckily, the bride and groom wanted to take a few offsite pictures, so she rounded them up and escaped before she had to talk to Craig. Coward, she thought. But she was rattled enough just by him being there; talking about one of the worst moments of her life might put her over the edge.

  She rode in the limo with Kristen and Tony to a rundown shopping plaza, where the two of them insisted on being photographed on top of a roof. She figured it was because Tony was one of the managers of a roofing company. Craig must work for the same company, she thought, remembering what he said when he’d shown up late.

  That surprised her. She remembered how interested Craig had been during English class, challenging the teacher’s interpretation of different stories. Their photography teacher always cooed over his pictures. Moira always imagined him becoming a writer or a teacher. Heck, even a photographer. He was popular with students and teachers. Mr. Perfect. He could’ve done anything. But maybe he was happy working with his family.

  After taking several fun shots of them kissing and posing on the roof, it was off to the reception site. The bride’s mother was ordering the staff around, and Moira suspected if they had their way, Tony and Kristen would call it a day and celebrate their nuptials in private.

  Moira was busy photographing the small details of the day—the favors, the table decorations, the place cards—when Craig approached her again. She closed her eyes like he might disappear, then decided she might as well get this over with. She turned around and faced him.

  He grinned. “Moira Moore? You went to Highland Academy, right?”

  “Yes.” She tried to keep her face impassive so he couldn’t see the sadness behind the memories kicking her in the heart.

  “I’m Craig Fitzpatrick. Fitz.” There was that killer smile of his.

  She fiddled with her camera strap. “I remember. Your friends called you Fitz. We had a few classes together.”

  Nodding, he shoved his hands in his pockets. “You look great.”

  “Thanks.” She was trying her best not to sound shaken. Instead, she knew she came off as bitchy.

  There was a thin line of perspiration above his lip. “I remember taking a photography class with you. You did some great work. Everybody thought so. You were good in front of the camera, too.”

  Her throat tightened. Was he mocking her? Nobody paid any attention to her, until that day in the cafeteria when Carrie LaMont showed everyone Moira’s secret photography project. The one she never intended for anyone to see. Good in front of the camera, all right…

  She sucked in a deep breath. “I seem to recall people finding my pictures very funny. Yourself included.” She started to walk away, but Craig grabbed her arm.

  “Moira, I wanted to talk to you about that.”

  She looked back and forced a smile, pulling her arm away. “It was ten years ago. It doesn’t matter now—Craig. If you’ll excuse me, I have a lot of work to do.” Her heart pounded and she left, gripping her camera for support.

  All night long, she replayed that encounter, and the many different ways she should have handled it. She managed to avoid him the rest of the night, and went home disappointed she hadn’t told him what she’d really felt that day: shame, ridicule, and one hundred kinds of hurt that he obviously hadn’t felt the same way about her, that she had felt about him.

  Ten years ago that day, when Carrie had stood on a chair in the cafeteria and held up those pictures, everyone laughed. Including Craig. And just in case anyone missed it, Carrie had also printed out a few dozen wallet-sized copies to pass out. Some kind teacher had confiscated them all before the end of the day. But still, for weeks, people talked about how crazy Moira was thinking she stood a chance with Craig Fitzpatrick. The two of them at prom? Hilarious. And Craig had never said a damned thing to her.

  When she’d made those pictures, she’d never imagined anyone else would see them. Mrs. Fielder, their photography teacher, had all the students take photos of each other one day, then self-portraits the next. Mrs. Fielder knew Moira loved her class, and would let her stay after school to work on her projects. She had even better cameras and equipment at home; she just liked her teacher’s company.

  One day, after finishing touch ups on a photo contest entry, she had a little down time. On a lark, while working in the darkroom, she’d merged a picture of her and Craig together in a heart. Then she got a little crazy, adding crowns on their heads like they were prom king and queen in another picture. By the time she was done, she’d made half a dozen pictures of them together. She’d hung them up to dry, and then Mrs. Fielder called Moira to her desk to look over the new pictures from her trip to Ireland over spring break. She had a hilarious shot of a pig sleeping in the middle of the road she just had to show her. Moira had been so distracted, she’d forgotten all about the pictures in the darkroom.

  And guess who had photography first period the next day? Carrie LaMont. Meanest girl to ever walk the halls of Highland Academy. Damn. If only photography class in 2002 had been digital. Moira has remembered the photos second period and snatched them up, thinking no one had seen them.

  Of course, Carrie had just been careful to replace them exactly as she’d found them. She’d actually had the nerve to inquire about booking Moira for her wedding earlier in the season. When Jackie called back to say she wasn’t available, Carrie had gotten pissy and protested, “But we went to high school together.”

  And bless Jackie’s heart, she’d said, “I’m sorry. Miss Moore is very much in demand.”

  It was true. But that didn’t help Moira now, staring at the ceiling, wishing Craig’s face would stop popping into her thoughts. She punched her pillow a few times and tried to sleep, but it wasn’t going to happen. And she had another happy couple to photograph the next day. Sometimes, love really sucked; especially when you weren’t on the receiving end of it. But documenting it for others paid the bills. Yes, love made Moira’s world go round, just not in the way she wanted.

  ***

  Craig drove home disappointed he hadn’t been able to talk to Moira before he left. He owed her an explanation. Now he wouldn’t get another chance. Could he just call her? She’d probably hang up. No, he needed a professional reason to visit her office. He thought about it as he drove along. Tony would be on his honeymoon the next week, leaving Craig in Tony’s position. Craig could go to her office to inquire about new promotional photos for the company. Well, it was something, anyway.

  He jogged up the stairs to his apartment in the duplex he owned. It’d be fun to be in charge the next week. It’s not that he hated his job working on the crew. It just didn’t challenge him. The roofing job was the easiest landing for him after he lost his football scholarship at UMass freshman year when he got hurt. Not that he had other career pl
ans in mind, but working on a crew for his uncle Jim hadn’t been on his short list. Collecting rent on the lower apartment covered his mortgage, so he’d built up a nice savings cushion, but for what?

  He went to the fridge and popped open a beer, settling on the couch to catch the day’s sports’ highlights. He could’ve extended his night and gone out with the redhead who’d been tailing him all night, but he was too distracted by Moira to pay attention to another woman. He’d always thought Moira was pretty in high school; now, she was incredible. Successful, of course. That had never been in question. But still as cool and emotionless as she’d always been. Most people had assumed she was stuck up, that she thought she was better than everyone else because her parents were so wealthy—wealthy even by private school standards.

  But Craig hadn’t been so sure that was it. He’d caught her daydreaming out the window often, looking more sad than snotty. She usually sat alone at lunch, reading a book. And she didn’t flaunt the latest designer clothes like most of the girls in school. Whatever her real story had been, Moira Moore had been entirely unapproachable in high school.

  Which is why he had to explain why he’d reacted the way he did when Carrie LaMont held up those pictures. He’d been just as stunned as Moira. And then to make it worse, he’d laughed! It had been a nervous reaction, but she couldn’t have known that. He should have chased her out of the lunchroom that day. Truth was, he’d been afraid to, because what if she told him the truth—that she was too good for a guy from a middle class family of eight kids just a few paychecks away from the streets? Who’d never owned a new pair of jeans? Who’d never flown on a plane—while most of his classmates jetted across the country for long weekend getaways. Why would she ever be interested in him? Her reaction that day was proof enough.

  He tipped back the rest of the beer. Seeing her today had made him determined to sort out the truth of what happened. He wanted her to know he hadn’t been laughing at her. Hell, he might even tell her he still had one of those pictures. He’d tucked it away in his desk at home that day way back when. It was currently in a box at the back of his closet.

  He flicked off the TV, bummed that the Red Sox had lost again, but even more bummed that ten years later, Moira Moore still had zero interest in him.

  ***

  It was stupid—totally juvenile and asinine—but Moira had pulled all the photos of Craig from the wedding and saved them in a special file. God, it felt like that day when she’d created all those embarrassing montages. She was examining her favorite—a candid shot of him listening to a story, a smile just quirking into place. He looked thoughtful and a bit mischievous. It showed his personality well. She wanted him to look at her like that. The phone rang, and she jumped as if she’d been caught fawning over his photo.

  She answered the call with a curt hello.

  “Moira, it’s Micki Keegan. Remember, from the Minx-Anderson wedding that never happened? And the Briggs-Harper wedding. Oh, and the LaMont-Ridley wedding. Listen, a reality show just called me. They’ve been reading my bridesmaid blog, and if I can throw together my wedding in a month, they’ll pay for the whole thing and I’ll be on their new show, Just Add I Do. And so will you! Please tell me you have some dates available in September. Please!”

  She remembered Micki and her boyfriend from the wedding auditions one bride insisted on having her photograph. Yeah, she’d auditioned people to be in the wedding party. This business was getting crazier by the day. “I didn’t know you got engaged, Micki. When did he propose?”

  “He didn’t. I did.”

  Didn’t hear that one very often. Moira was impressed. “Wow.”

  “I know. But when this opportunity came up, I thought why not? I know I want to be with him, even though I’ve been scared of marriage. Everyone else in my family is divorced. Marriage just never takes with us, like a bad transplant or something. But I thought if I were the first Keegan woman to do the proposing, maybe I’d be the first to stay married. So please tell me you can find a way to do this.” Her voice was sincere and desperate.

  “Let me have a look.” Moira flipped through her calendar and frowned. “I’m totally booked. But if I can switch an engagement photo session on that second Sunday in September, I could squeeze in a wedding. Can you do a Sunday?”

  “I’ll have to do a Sunday. Most things are booked up by now. Hey, maybe I’ll be the one to make Sunday the new Friday of weddings.”

  Moira laughed. “Good luck.”

  “Okay, three weeks from today.” Micki screamed.

  Moira hung up, wondering if she could even accommodate the extra business that a reality show appearance would bring. She might have to take on another assistant. So much love. So much happiness. She was busy contemplating if she could still handle being a wedding photographer ten years from now if she wasn’t married by then, when the bell on her door jangled and someone walked in. Which was strange; she didn’t have any appointments scheduled.

  She looked up and froze. It was Craig Fitzpatrick. She popped up from her chair and he looked at her, smiling. God, was she feeling woozy? She sat back down. Then his gaze shifted behind her. His smile fell and his eyebrows scrunched together.

  That’s when she remembered the picture on her twenty-seven inch monitor. The candid of Craig about to smile. Remarkably, she kept her composure. “I was just going through pictures from your cousin’s wedding. You’ve always photographed well. Still do.”

  He walked toward the monitor. “You sure you weren’t about to draw a big mustache on me?”

  Her lips twitched. “Not a mustache. But maybe a pirate patch.”

  He looked at her. Then he laughed. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you crack a joke.”

  “Once every ten years. I’m good for another decade now.”

  That brought out another smile.

  She stood up. “So, what brings you here today, Craig?” Moira asked, the classical music playing overhead doing nothing to calm her.

  He ran a hand through his thick, black hair. “Well, to be honest, I had this big spiel about needing new promotional photos for my uncle’s roofing company, and coming to get a quote yada, yada, yada; but I’m not going to waste your time with that. I came here to see you.” He fixed her with a stare.

  She felt one of her eyebrows raise. “Let me guess. You had a feeling I was going to defile one of your pictures and came to stop me?”

  Cue the dimples. “Ah, now that’s two jokes in one decade.”

  She couldn’t help but smile, too, but she held her hands behind her because they were shaking.

  He took a few steps toward her. “I came to talk about pictures, but not the wedding pictures. The ones in high school. The ones Carrie LaMont showed everyone.”

  Moira nodded and gestured for him to sit down in her reception area. If only she stocked scotch in her studio fridge instead of water. She sat down and said nothing, because she didn’t know what to say. It had the feel of a dream where you were called to the front of the class—in your underwear. The ugly ones kicking around in the back of the drawer.

  Craig sat down across from her and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. “Moira, I feel horrible about that day. I never told you I was sorry. I had nothing to do with it, but I should have told Carrie off. I was just so stunned I didn’t know what to say. And then you didn’t show up to school the rest of the week. I guess by the time I saw you again, I figured I should just leave it be. I mean, you were so put off by the idea, you ran out of the cafeteria.”

  She was so surprised she said nothing. He didn’t know. He didn’t know she’d made the pictures. And she surely wasn’t going to admit it now. She bumbled her words. “I just wasn’t used to being the center of attention like that. And you were laughing.” She looked at her shoes.

  He held up a hand. “I know. I’m sorry. Normally, I stand up for people in situations like that. But I was embarrassed.”

  She tried not to cringe. Of course he would’ve been embarrassed b
y a photo showing them as a couple. She swallowed the lump in her throat and shrugged. “No hard feelings. It was a long time ago.”

  They both were quiet for a few moments until he broke the silence. “Our ten year reunion’s coming up this weekend. Are you going?”

  She’d rather do school photo day. For pre-schoolers. Who’d skipped naptime and been given pixie sticks. “I’m sure I’ve got a wedding booked that day.”

  He nodded. “Right. Busy season for you. I’m glad you’re doing so well. My sister Janice just got engaged and already knows she wants you to do the wedding. You know, since I’m here, do you think we could schedule a photo shoot with the crew? My uncle still has all his hair in the promotional picture we use in the phone book. And hell, I’m not even in it, that’s how old it is.”

  “Of course. Let me check my calendar.” She should have said no. There was no reason to see Craig again. He didn’t know she’d made the sappy photos, they’d cleared the air, she should just move on—tell him she was booked up. But she didn’t. “I can move a few things around next week and set aside on hour on Tuesday morning?”

  “I’ll make sure everyone’s clean and on time.” He shook her hand and left, and Moira got very little work done the rest of the day.

  ***

  Craig got in his car and groaned. That didn’t go how he wanted. Ideally, Craig wanted to walk out of there with a date. She was supposed to have been charmed by his apology. He wasn’t full of himself, but everyone knew Craig never had a hard time with the ladies, but he didn’t quite know what to say to her. And time hadn’t changed Moira’s interest in him. He hoped Carrie was coming to the ten-year reunion. He had plenty to say to her.

  He drove back to the office wondering if his uncle would be pissed he’d scheduled a photo shoot. He hadn’t even asked how much it would cost. But uncle Jim’s business was successful and growing, thanks to his cousin Tony’s great marketing ideas. And what had Craig contributed? Not much. His life certainly hadn’t turned out like his parents had probably expected when their fifth child won a scholarship to Highland Academy. He would’ve been better off in public school. At least then he wouldn’t have been the only kid without a car. Or a beach house on the cape.