sent Sonnet a text message. A heads-up; it was the least he could do. He didn’t actually worry too much on his own behalf. Thanks to his father, Zach was beyond the point of embarrassment. But Sonnet had always been super sensitive about her reputation.
Yet the moment he’d hit Send, he started wondering if the rumor mill had simply made a lucky guess, or if they really knew something. Or if there had been a different wedding…and a different guy.
He batted at a fly buzzing around his head and got back to work.
She probably wouldn’t respond. Ever since the wedding—the post-wedding-champagne-fueled sex they’d enjoyed—Sonnet had been in hiding. To be honest, Zach was okay with what had happened—hell, he’d liked it, but Sonnet insisted they weren’t a match. No way they were a match, despite the mind-blowing boathouse encounter, and she claimed they were both old enough to realize it. She wanted them to go back to being friends, the way they’d been since kindergarten.
He wanted more. She wouldn’t let him convince her, though. She made it clear that being with him would put a crimp in her future plans. Fine, then, he thought. He had plans, too.
But he missed her. Shit, he really did. He missed the friendship, the easy feeling of being with someone he felt completely comfortable with. Most guys had a family to lean on, but not Zach. He was the son of a bad man who was behind bars. His mom had left when he was a kid, remarried and then died of cancer. So he was not exactly a member of the all-American family. Through the years, Sonnet had become his default go-to person, the one he could call or text at all hours, the one who knew his history and didn’t judge him for it, the one who loved hearing his good news. Correction—she used to love it. Now she didn’t even pick up the phone.
Inside the church, he ran into the pastor, a paunchy, sober man who took great pleasure in marrying starry-eyed couples in his storybook-cute church.
“Hey, Reverend Munson,” he said. “I’ll be out of your way shortly. Just needed to make a plan for Saturday’s ceremony.”
“Take all the time you need, Zachary. I know how important the video is to the bride.”
“Yep,” he said. “You’re right about that.”
“Jenna’s back from her mission trip to Korea,” said Reverend Munson, referring to his youngest daughter. “I imagine she’s going to want to tell you all about it. She always did like you, and she took a lot of video footage over there. I’m sure she’ll be in touch.”
She’d already been in touch, Zach reflected. It was awkward as hell making small talk with the reverend, who was clearly unaware that not so long ago, Zach had spent a few pleasant hours sipping Zima from his daughter’s navel. And doing some other things as well.
“I think I’ve got everything I need,” Zach said with hearty decisiveness. “See you on Saturday, sir.”
“I’ll be camera ready.” Reverend Munson playfully framed his face with his hands. His clean pale hands, the ring finger encircled with a band of gold. For some reason, Zach started feeling guilty.
What the hell, he thought as he left the sanctuary. He’d been working as a videographer and editor for Wendela’s Wedding Wonders since college. Nothing wrong with the gig except that he was forced to work crazy hours, endure bridezillas and their maniac moms, and he hadn’t seen a Saturday night since he’d become old enough to drink.
And what Zach wanted, what he longed to do, was tell stories. Not his own. God, no. Other people’s stories. He’d been doing it ever since he was old enough to hold a camera. He had a knack for capturing a subject’s emotions on film, finding their hidden vulnerabilities, peeling away the layers to reveal truths that were often raw, but beautiful. He wanted to go out into the world and find those stories. He ought to get out of Avalon before he got stuck here forever.
But that took dough, lots of it. For a long time, it had seemed like an impossible dream as he dug himself out of student loans, made regular payments to the town of Avalon in an attempt to make up for what his father had stolen and gambled away, and simply went about the business of living. There was no law requiring him to make restitution for the damage his father had done, but the night with Sonnet had reminded him that this was not a dress rehearsal.
In order to move ahead in the field, he needed to go where the work was. L.A. or New York. He’d been sending out his portfolio for the past couple of years. So far he’d won loads of admiration and a prestigious award or two, but no offers of paying work.
Pissed at his thoughts for circling around to Sonnet again, he scrolled through his contacts, the digital equivalent of a little black book, and without much thought, hit on one. Shakti. She always picked up.
“Hey, what are you doing?” he asked.
“Waiting for you to call.” She gave a soft, ego-stroking purr.
“I’ll be right over.”
* * *
Later that night, Zach went to the Hilltop Tavern, an Avalon watering hole favored by locals. Two of his buddies were there—Eddie Haven, a talented singer and songwriter who had settled in town to hide from his past as a troubled child star, and Bo Crutcher, a pitcher for the Yankees who used to play bass in Eddie’s band, and kept a vacation cabin on the lake. Zach had filmed both guys’ wedding videos, and they’d become friends along the way.
“I got girl trouble,” he said, sliding into the booth with them.
“My favorite kind,” Bo said, filling Zach’s glass from a frosty pitcher of beer.
Eddie raised his glass of root beer. “What’s up, my brother? Shit, don’t tell me somebody’s pregnant.”
“No,” Zach said instantly, shuddering with a chill at the very thought. “It’s complicated. See, I kind of…you know, I’ve always been one to play the field.”
“Boy slut,” said Eddie. “We’ve all been there.”
“That’s why I’m telling you this,” Zach said. “So now—and I never thought I’d be saying this—it’s getting old.” He thought about Shakti, who had rolled out the welcome mat earlier in the evening. He hadn’t taken advantage of the welcome. Instead, he’d bought her dinner, dropped her off at her house, and called this meeting with his friends to confess that he was losing his mind.
“Dude,” said Bo. “Welcome to adulthood. We all take a while to get there, but we get there. I know I did.”
“You did it by marrying a woman who looks like a supermodel,” Zach said. “That must have been so hard for you.”
Bo laughed. “I reckon it was harder for Kim. So what’s on your mind?”
“Who, not what. Sonnet Romano. Yeah, that Sonnet Romano. The one I’ve known since she was Willow Lake’s hopscotch champion. We had…we did…”
“Nina’s girl? You finally nailed her? Awesome,” said Eddie, high-fiving him. “Doesn’t sound like so much trouble to me.”
“Then you don’t know Sonnet. She could make a copper penny complicated.”
“Let me guess,” said Bo. “You nailed her, and now she wants a…what’s that word? Oh, yeah. Relationship. It never fails.
