My Wedding Photos Belonged To His First Love Chapter 07

My Wedding Photos Belonged To His First Love Chapter 07

Derek didn’t leave right away.

He rented a place across the street.

Every morning, when I opened the shop, he would be standing on the curb.

Sometimes holding breakfast.

Sometimes carrying repaired components for the old camera.

Sometimes holding nothing at all, just watching me.

George asked, “That guy owe you money?”

I said, “A lot, actually.”

George nodded. “Then let him stand in line to pay it back.”

I laughed.

Of everything Derek sent, I only accepted the legal documents.

Breakfast, returned.

Flowers, returned.

Even a photo he had developed himself, returned.

It was a profile shot I had taken of him years ago.

On the back, he had written: [Nora, that day you said the light was good. I can see it now.]

I pushed the photo back across the counter. “Mr. Sullivan, we don’t store personal photos here.”

His fingers went rigid. “You never used to call me that.”

I said, “I used to have terrible taste.”

He gave a bitter, hollow laugh.

One night, it rained and the power in the shop went out.

George and I were checking the fuse box when Derek appeared outside with an umbrella.

“I know a little about this. Let me try.”

George stepped aside. “Go ahead.”

I didn’t stop him.

Derek rolled up his sleeves and climbed the ladder.

The moment the lights flickered back on, he looked down at me.

In that second, I suddenly remembered a time long ago.

Back when the Sullivan Group was just starting out, the power had gone out in his office too.

I held up my phone for light while he fixed the switch. When he was done, he turned around and grinned at me.

“Nora Thompson, you’re kind of amazing, you know that?”

Back then, I thought that was sweet. Now I knew he had just slotted me into the “useful” category from the very start.

Derek climbed down from the ladder. There was a gash on the back of his hand.

I handed him a band-aid.

He stared at it. “You still care?”

I said, “The shop doesn’t need blood on the floor.”

He lowered his eyes, and his smile was awful to look at. “Fair enough.”

The rain fell harder.

He stood at the door, not leaving.

I said, “Derek, you don’t have to do this.”

He turned to look at me.

“If I don’t do this, then what?”

I didn’t answer.

His voice dropped. “I went back to the penthouse. The photo wall is empty. The closet is empty. You

even took the cactus from the balcony.”

“I always assumed you’d just be there.”

“Taking photos, cooking, revising plans, sitting on the couch waiting for me to come home.”

His eyes went red. “I really believed there was so much time left.”

I closed the photo album on the counter.

“The time you believed in was time where I was always the one waiting.”

Derek’s throat worked.

I went on. “I don’t want to wait anymore.”

He stood in the sound of the rain, looking like someone who had been drenched all the way through,

His phone buzzed.

The screen lit up: Lily.

Derek glanced at it and declined the call.

A second later, a message popped up.

[Derek, the brand partner is holding me liable. Can you say something for me? They’re saying there’s an issue with the proposal’s copyright.]

[Also, the treatment center abroad-you promised you’d handle the previous fees.]

I saw it, too.

Derek’s face went gray.

I said, “Looks like your Lily knows how to put herself first, too.”

He gripped the phone tight.

This time, he didn’t explain.