Taken by Audra Cole, Bella Love-Wins

“Actually, I think it’s nice that Charity has some space. She’s come up with a ton of new recipes for her cookbook.” She turns in her chair to face me. “When will you get the pictures back?”
    “Oh! I forgot to show you. Emelia actually sent some samples already.” I jump up from the table, completely disrupting the cameraman who had been hovering over me. He jumps back as I rush to the kitchen and swipe a large envelope off the counter. It’s the perfect distraction to get me out of this awkward conversation.
    It works like a charm. For the next half hour we go through the pictures and my mother is so busy making ’suggestions’ on the book layout, she completely forgets to pick up her previous rant about Brandon’s absence.
    Kira seems to get the hint that we aren’t going to be giving her anything juicy for the rest of the night, so she wraps things up and the house is quiet by ten.
    I slip into bed, alone, and lay awake as I watch the bedside clock. My mind won’t shut down and I can’t stop thinking about everything that is happening. It’s all such a mess. I go through each day, just pushing forward. I can do it, but I feel so much better when Brandon is by my side and I don’t have to push through it all on my own.
    Eventually I must have dozed off because I wake up and several hours have passed. “Cherry, you awake?”
    My heart flutters and I fling myself into Brandon’s arms, as he gets into bed next to me. “I missed you,” I mumble against his bare shoulder.
    “I missed you too.”
    Eventually he loosens his hold on me, and we snuggle down into the covers. In the silence, I debate telling him everything he missed: the dress fitting, canceling the tea party, the awkward dinner. But in the end I stay silent, and before too long I hear his breathing change and know he’s fallen asleep.
     
    ***
     
    “He should be here by now. We are on a tight schedule!” Kira whines.
    Kira, the crew, Ashley, my mom, and I are all seated in the consultation room of a very fancy bakery, waiting for Brandon to arrive so they can begin filming the selection of our cake. After this, we are scheduled to be at the florist for the better part of the afternoon to go over bouquets, boutonnieres, centerpieces, and who knows what else. And then the final stop is dance lessons to learn our choreographed first dance.
    I need a quad-shot espresso just to conjure up enough energy to even think about it.
    Somewhere along the way, the paparazzi seem to have gotten a hold of our schedule and a whole pack of them are standing outside, waiting. It’s weird to think there is a market for pictures of us being filmed for a show that’s going to be on TV in less than a month.
    I check the clock on my phone in five-minute intervals, waiting and watching. Half an hour past the time we were supposed to start, I get a message from Brandon that he’s down the street and coming on foot. I quickly fire back a message to let him know about the flock of ’vultures’ in front of the bakery.
    It’s a quick “WTF” followed by an “IDK" kind of exchange.
    I spot him before the photographers do, as I pace back and forth in front of the large shop windows. He’s jogging down the street and seems to fly right past them before any of them even know what’s happening. Once they do spot him, the cameras explode. I’m temporarily blinded as a flash hits me right in the eyes, before Brandon is able to close the door behind him.
    “Finally!” Kira practically pounces across the room. “Let’s begin,” she says with a nod at the baker, who has been standing off to the side of the room.
    On cue, two assistants come into the room, each carrying two trays of tiny, ornately decorated cakes. They set the trays on the table before Brandon and me and instruct us to begin the sampling.
    Brandon dives in like a caveman, and I can’t help but giggle as I watch him devour a whole plateful of the baby-sized cakes. I realize that it’s