19. Dutton

Dutton

M aybe Walker was right, and it doesn't have to be that complicated because the last few weeks since we said I love you have been the easiest weeks of my life. Everything with Walker is beautifully simple.

Because I am completely and totally in love with him, and the feeling is mutual. He shows me every single day how much he loves me, and I hope I do the same for him. Even though I'm freezing my ass off right now at the outdoor wedding where I'm taking photos.

Outdoor wedding. In Kansas. In December.

Honestly, what the hell were they thinking? The bride looks really happy though. I capture her wide smile as she approaches her soon-to-be husband, and I can't help smiling too. You can feel their love from here.

Can people sense how much I love Walker? I'm pretty sure they can. We've spent a lot of time with Archie and his other friends these past few weeks, and Archie is always quick to point out how in looooove we are.

Neither of us ever argue.

After the wedding, I head to my car and instantly text Walker that I'm on my way home—because even though we haven't officially moved in together, I really do see my house as his home too. I don't think he's spent a night at his house since we were there at Halloween.

I asked him to bring some clothes over to leave at my house, and he didn't fight me on it. He's there now while I was here working because I trust him. I trust him with every part of me. I want to share my life with him.

Just as I'm about to pull away though, my phone dings, and thinking it's a message from Walker, I have to check it. But instead, it's an email from someone I used to work with in LA. Apparently, he's pretty desperate for a photographer to do a shoot with a French model he just signed.

The old me would have jumped right at the chance, but just scanning over the details makes my stomach twist and turn. I put the phone down and drive home in a numb, uncertain state.

It's a lot of money—but that doesn't really matter all that much to me. It's also my old career. Not totally giving it up. Still having a tie to my old life. The prestige.

My stomach still feels just as twisty when I pull into my drive and park my car. I'm parked right next to Walker's truck, and that gives me momentary peace. I love him being here when I get home.

I love that when I finally climb out of my car and walk inside the house, I can smell something savory cooking in the kitchen and hear music that would be way too loud for most humans playing and Walker singing along to it.

He's made this house into a home without even trying.

I walk into the kitchen, put my camera and phone down on the counter, and watch him dancing around to the music as he stirs something on the stove. God, he's the most perfect human.

"Smells good," I say loudly, and he jumps, turning around and looking startled, but soon it turns into a lazy smile.

"Chili."

My stomach rumbles with hunger but also nerves, and damn it, he picks right up on it.

"Do you not like chili? I can make something else."

"No, I do," I say and walk closer to him, feeling sick about that email. Maybe I should just delete it. Ignore it like it never happened. But can I just give up on the career I've built? Just like that?

"What's wrong?" He's calm, but I can feel how nervous he is under the surface.

"I got an email from someone I used to work with in LA. Their photographer fell through, and they really need me for a two-day shoot."

He cocks his head to the side, studying me. "That's great?" It's said like a question, and bless him because of course he'd think it's great. He's the most supportive person I've ever met.

"It's a huge opportunity. It would make me feel like all those years I struggled as a photographer weren't going to waste."

He watches me closely, still confused, no doubt. "So did you tell them yes? Two days is nothing. You can fly out, do your fancy, impressive shoot, and be right back here before we even know it."

I bite my bottom lip like I do when I'm nervous and then take a deep breath, releasing it shakily. "The two days are Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. The model is heavily booked. Apparently, she's the next big thing, and those are the only two days she can do it."

His face falls, and I knew I should have just deleted that email. Nothing is worth making him look that way. "Oh."

I nod. "I don't have to do it. It's not like I need the money."

"But it's a part of you," he says softly, his big hand cupping my cheek. "You should do it."

I lean into him, but I don't agree. We're so new. This was supposed to be our first Christmas together, and to some, I'm sure it's nothing, not a big deal at all. It certainly wouldn't have been a big deal to me before Walker, but it is now. I promised him I wouldn't miss Christmas with him and his family for the world. I don't want to miss it.

"I really thought my career was over. I mean, professional model shoots anyway. I like shooting weddings and birthdays."

I can feel his soft smile, but it doesn't reach his eyes the way I like when I look at his face. "But you loved doing that. You don't have to give that part up. You need to do it. It's a big deal, and it's important to you."

I want to say that he's more important, and he is, but does that mean I should give every last part of me up? I know he won't make me choose. Maybe I should ask him to go with me, but I know how important his family is to him. His nieces are so young. He wants and deserves to spend this time with them.

I won't ask him to choose, either. So it seems we're just kind of stuck. "I hate letting your mom down."

He brushes his thumb over my cheek. "She'll understand. She loves the pictures you showed her on your phone at Thanksgiving. She knows you have a gift. You have to share that with the world."

Part of me really wants him to fight me on this. Don't ask me why. I'm not sure. It's good to have my own independence. I know that. But I also want him to fight for us. It's not fair, but it's true.

He kisses my nose and then goes back over to the stove to stir the chili. "You should tell them you'll do it. We'll be okay. We can celebrate when you get back."

Back.

Not home, like he'd normally say. "Are you sure?"

I ask it with the stupid hope that he'll beg me not to go. That he'll tell me he loves me and wants me to stay and spend Christmas with his family. That he can't imagine it without me.

"I'm sure." He looks over his shoulder at me with a great big smile. "You love your career. You can't lose that part of you."

I frown when I know I should be happy. He's so sure and happy. He's fine with this. And maybe it's too early in our relationship for us to fully stake our claim on each other, for him to declare we spend every holiday together.

I know it is. It's putting too much pressure on our very new relationship. He's doing the right thing—the accepted thing—and letting me still have my space and independence. It's a good thing.

But even after I send an email to my old associate, telling him I'll be there, I don't feel that normal joy that used to spread through me after booking a large gig like this one.

I feel almost . . . empty.