Promise Me Not

Payton

Now, July 5

Camera in my hands, I tentatively pull the memory card free, sliding it into the slot on my PC. The import screen pops up, and with it, my heart jolts in my rib cage.

During my internship, I was clearing and uploading every couple of days, but this particular memory card has remained inside its slot for several months now. Since May.

Since my little trip to a certain college a couple of hours away…

Distractions. Today is about distraction.

Swallowing, I click the large “yes” on the screen, swiftly turning away so I don’t have to see the images as they flash there in rapid succession.

I focus on my bag of accessories, taking out my small traveling tripod and setting it up to make sure nothing’s broken or missing. I clean my lenses and sensor, attaching each piece and then detaching before placing them back into their designated slots.

It’s ten after twelve in the afternoon, and I know little mister will be waking up from his nap any moment, so I hurry and finish packing up my camera bag, adding in all the necessities that I’ve discovered I need along the way. My internship at Embers Elite this past year taught me a lot, one very important thing being I’m pretty worthless when I’m lacking in sugars. So on that note, I add a few small packs of chocolate-covered almonds to the side pouch, some tissues, ChapStick, and superglue to the other.

It was my first assignment as the newest member of the sports photography team when I discovered superglue could be my best friend on the field. There’s nothing worse than when you’re awkwardly bent, lying against the grass, or raised in the air, however the heck you manage that, and you break something you can’t piece back together. Sure, the superglue destroys it and you’re still screwed later, forced to replace the part regardless, but at least at the end of the day, you got the shot you came for. And when you’re hanging around, sometimes literally, a six-foot, three-hundred-pound lineman for that money shot, things are bound to break.

Today will be different, though. I’m not headed to a field where I’ll be taking pictures of athletes but instead under what I imagine will be dainty string lights or glowing fluorescent ones to set the ambiance in a romantic glow.

I’ll be following the happy couple with my lens from every corner of the room, catching what they believe to be private moments between the two. I’ll freeze them in time, and down the road, when they look back at the images of them whispering to each other, they’ll remember their little secret.

Mason was my little secret.

Okay. So not really a distraction for me but in fact a horrible idea.

A laugh escapes, and I run a hand over my long ponytail. “What the hell was I thinking?”

Deaton’s soft, baby gibberish sounds at the perfect time, and when I look at the little screen, seeing he’s awake, I practically run from the room, happy to lose myself in him for the next few hours.

As I enter, he looks up with blue eyes that mirror mine and shows off a mouth full of gums as he smiles.

“Well, hello, little man.” I reach in, allowing him to latch his fists over my pointer fingers so he can use his own strength to pull himself into a standing position. I transfer his hands to the edge of the crib, bending down so we’re face-to-face. “Did someone have a good nap?”

He presses his forehead to mine, making the sweetest little baby sounds as he starts to jump.

Smiling, I turn back to the changing table and pull out a fresh diaper and wipes. As I go to take him into my arms, he drops onto his butt, reaching for his plush toy. I tense, watching as he hugs the little football to his chest, pressing his cheek into the soft side of it. He looks up, his big blue eyes fully slanted at the side. His smile is so wide and sudden, a soft, sob-laced laugh leaves me.

He’s just so happy all the time, completely oblivious to the battles that go on inside my head, just as I hoped he would be. When I’m with him, I block out everything else. It might not be the best coping mechanism, attaching his every waking moment I can to my hip, but it works. Sure, I’ve basically taken independent play off the table, but he is learning how to entertain himself, if only little by little. For now, I don’t think it matters.

He’s growing and curious about his little world, and in my arms is where he gets to explore. He can see all the things I see and touch all the things his little arm is long enough to reach. He loves being everywhere I am.

I must be doing something right, right?

Warmth blooms in my chest, and a bittersweet sigh slips. I take him and the football into my arms, my eyes instantly falling to the signatures on the side.

Lolli is the one who bought the plush, and as a joke, Nate signed it before giving it to him.

Lowering him onto the changing mat, I tickle his belly as I quickly unsnap his onesie, my eyes falling to the bright red ink, scribbled large and purposely swallowing the name beneath it.

Yes, the moment Mason spotted Deaton’s new plush, he scowled and started digging through the kitchen drawers, coming back with a Sharpie in his hands. He signed right over the top of Nate’s name, passing it back to Deaton with a satisfied smile.

He said not a word before or after, and neither did I, but I was laughing on the inside.

“Silly man, huh, baby boy?” I whisper, pretending I don’t hear the ache in my own voice as I make quick work of getting him changed and into a pair of bottoms. “Okay. What do you say we go for a little walk and have lunch on the pier?”

Deaton squeaks as if he understands, and I lift him into the air, spinning as I carry him from the room.

Parker and Kenra are lounging on the couch when I walk out, both glancing back with a smile.

“You headed out?” my brother asks.

“Yeah, I’m going to take him on a walk and maybe down to the water before Ari comes for him later.”

“Is she keeping him at their place?”

I nod. “Yeah, for the early part of the evening, but they’re coming back here for bedtime.”

“You know we can keep him, Peep.” My brother looks to me.

“I know, but she’s been asking, so I thought I’d give you guys a break.”

Parker frowns, but not in an angry sort of way. “You never leave him with us, Payton. After bed, he’s out like a light, so it’s not even babysitting, and you’ve only done that twice in the past several months…and both were this week.” He watches me closely, clearly detecting I’m off my game now that he’s been home longer than his usual one- to two-day breaks. “You know we do want to hang out with him, right?”

I offer a small smile, nodding. “I know, and if she lets you, you can keep him up as long as his little eyes allow once she comes back with him.”

Kenra scoffs, and I share a smile with her. Fat chance Ari will share once she has him.

Grabbing some squashable baby food, a snack pack, and a water, I toss it all in the diaper bag. I fill Deaton’s sippy cup with half water, half pear juice and cross my fingers today is the day he figures out how to drink out of it instead of just using it as a teething toy, so then I grab a bottle just in case.

Parker has the stroller out and ready for me by the time I reach the door, and I buckle the little man inside.

We’re out the front door and strolling down the street in seconds.

The sun is warm against my skin, and I welcome the glow.

We walk for a half mile, and I hold my breath as we reach the stop sign at the end. Mason and the others’ beach house is just across from it, familiar cars sitting in the driveway.

I gnaw on my inner cheek. It would be rude to walk past without saying hello and awkward if I tried and they spotted me out the front windows.

My decision is made for me when a horn beeps behind me, and I look back to spot Noah pulling up against the curb.

He smiles and hops out, his oldest friend, Paige, climbing out the passenger side door.

He walks over, smiling wide as he lowers in front of the stroller. “Hey, buddy. Did you come to play with your favorite friend?”

I laugh and he looks up with a grin, but only for a second, his hand outstretched to Deaton.

“High five,” he encourages, lifting Deaton’s hand and slapping it into his own so it makes a light clapping sound.

Deaton kicks his feet excitedly, drool dripping from his lips.

Noah smiles softly, his eyes holding my little boy for a few silent moments before he clears his throat and pushes to stand. “Here, let me help get him inside,” he offers.

“Oh, no, I’m not dropping him off yet. We’re having a little mom and son day first.”

“Isn’t every day a mom and son day?” Paige teases, stepping up to wrap me in a quick hug. “Hey, girlie.” She smiles sweetly.

“I heard you rented a studio down the street. Congratulations.”

Paige shrugs like it’s no big deal, but the blush on her cheeks says otherwise. “I want to turn it into a rec center, but I have to figure out all the ins and outs. Until then, private lessons on the weekends will cover the bills.” She laughs.

Noah smiles, glancing from the front door to me. “You realize if she finds out you walked by and didn’t come in, she’s going to be sad. Not sure I can have that.” He’s teasing, but he’s also not wrong.

“Just remind her she’s picking him up at six thirty, and I think she’ll be okay.”

Noah sighs dramatically but grins afterward. “Come on, Paige. Let’s go break my girl’s heart.”

I wave and walk away as quickly as possible, turning down a side street that takes me in the wrong direction, but it’s better than someone catching up to me.

I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings, but I need some time with just me and Deaton.

Especially today. The fifth of July.

The day he arrived in Oceanside exactly one year ago.

He only came here because of me.

I am the reason he’s dead.

You must really enjoy torturing yourself.

That’s the unwelcome thought that bursts through my brain the moment I step from the car and onto the beautiful rocky winding path. It’s lined with lilies the color of pomegranates, each bundle tucked gently into little silver vases, lilac ribbons tied around the centers. The flowers lead to a massive arched doorway that’s propped open, revealing an even bigger hall in the center, more lilies trailing down each side.

The man at the door smiles and greets me, extending his arm out to welcome me inside, but before I can step through, an older woman rushes out and latches on to my wrist, dragging me forward.

“Oh, thank goodness! We’re thrilled you could make it. Everyone has just taken their seats, and dinner’s being served. There is a seat and plate for you as well. I hope you like salmon. I’m Evelyn, by the way. Mother of the groom.”

“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Payton.”

“Yes, we heard so much about you. I tell you, Mia has been a lifesaver.”

She leads us through a side door that takes us through the kitchen, and I smile politely as we slip past the chefs hard at work with what looks like a dessert course. As we step through the swinging doors and into the reception area, my feet slow of their own accord until I’ve fully stopped, gawking at the wide-open space.

Fifteen to twenty round tables litter the floor, leaving a bit of space open in the center, likely for the bride and groom’s first dance or to view the wedding party table that sits up higher than the rest. Glass vases of different heights rest in the center of each one; lilies, this time white, burst within them, sitting on a bed of what looks like diamonds. There doesn’t seem to be an open seat in the place. There’s a charge of happiness in the air, and when I glance up at the wedding party table, finding the bride and groom tilted toward each other, moisture builds in my eyes.

I don’t realize I’m taking backward steps until Evelyn turns to me and tips her head.

“Did you leave something in the car, hon? I can ask the doorman to retrieve it for you.”

Clearing my throat, I do my best not to give away the panic rising within me. “No, I was going to go ahead and pull my camera out here and sneak some shots as I make my way around the room.”

“Perfect!” The woman claps in delight. “There’s a name tag and a seat for you in the front right corner.”

I thank her again and turn to the side, then busy myself in my bag in hopes that she goes back to enjoying the party. She does, and I suck in a breath of relief, pressing my back against the dark corner of the wall and taking a moment to breathe.

It’s fine. You’re fine. Everything is fine.

It’s not like a wedding is something I’ve ever thought about before. At no point in my childhood did I sit around and plan for my own, so this should be simple. Easy.

I’m here to do what I love, and I’m going to do it well, because despite how fucked-up I am in the head right now, I know I’m good at this.

This I can do without ruining everything.

Jesus, projecting much?

Oh my god, okay. Snap out of it.

I can do this.

So I reach for the numb switch in the back of my brain, flick it on, and get my ass to work.

Surprisingly, the evening goes by in a blur, and even more unexpectedly, I’m having a great time, smiling at the crowds as I make my way through, taking shot after shot of everything I think will be a warm memory.

Ten o’clock rolls around, and I note nearly all the older family members have called it a night, leaving what appears to be the bride and groom’s friends, or maybe cousins or siblings as they all seem to be around the same age. As if it were the plan all along, this is when the real party begins.

The guests go crazy when the bride reappears in a shorter, slinkier white dress, and even the music ramps up to what I imagine one would hear in a nightclub downtown.

Alcohol flows faster, people get louder, and I already know these will be the photos that make the newlyweds laugh when I send over the files in a couple of weeks.

Before I can exit the dance floor, a guy with blond hair grabs my free hand and spins me around, laughing all the while. He’s not kind of rude or sloppy but clearly intoxicated and having a good-ass time, so much so his mood is infectious. I can’t help the smile that breaks across my lips, and I give in for the remainder of the song, dancing like nothing else matters.

The song ends pretty quickly, and he gives a drunken bow before turning toward the bar.

As I make my way toward my designated seat, I catch a glimpse of red. My head jerks to the left to find Mia showed up after all.

She’s all dolled up and glancing around the room, so I jump from my seat and rush over, but before she sees me, her ex sees her, instantly commandeering her attention.

Sneakily, I raise my camera at the two, grinning at how obvious they are.

They are 100 percent making up tonight.

“I could have called that.” His whisper warms my skin, rolling over my ear and down my neck like an uncontrollable heat wave.

My eyes are still pointed through the lens, every muscle in my body going tense. It takes effort, but I manage to slowly bring the camera down, tucking it to my chest as if to shield what beats beneath it.

He steps around, my eyes and only my eyes slicing to the left the moment he becomes visible in my periphery, tracking his body as he places it right before me.

As if suddenly starved and aware of what they wish to be fed, my lungs expand with a full breath made up of nothing but Mason freaking Johnson.

My attention immediately falls to the wide stretch of his shoulders.

He’s wearing a button-up shirt and slacks, both a charcoal gray in color. He has the top button undone and the sleeves cuffed just right. That dark hair of his is perfectly messy on top of his head, and his fade is as fresh as always. He is handsome and flawless as ever.

And he’s waiting for me to look up, so finally, I do.

Deep brown eyes lock with mine, and he smiles, a smile that widens as he looks at the item pressed between us, and I kind of want to run, though my feet don’t seem to agree.

“I’m so damn happy for you,” he murmurs, moving closer, and I subconsciously turn my head into his hand when he reaches up to tuck my hair behind my ear.

It’s curled today, the top half held up high with a small rubber band, two long tresses left out in front and curled to match the rest. I’m wearing a tan dress, one of my old ones that’s made of stretchy material, even if it was designed to be loose, and I layered an ivory sweater over it in an attempt to hide the fact that the seams are threatening to burst. If they haven’t already.

A loud squeal sounds, and I blink out of the moment, looking from Mason to find Cameron, Brady, and Chase walking up, all dressed to impress.

“God, this is gorgeous!” Cameron beams, hugging me quickly before tossing her arms around Brady and Chase. “How do my dates look? Hot, right? I told them I would cockblock all night long if they ditched me before I found a single man of my own in here to keep me company.”

“You are not finding a random man to do a damn thing.” Brady glares, but Cameron just pushes up on her toes, her lips pressing to Chase’s then Brady’s cheek.

I swiftly snap a photo, laughing at her brand of crazy. “What are you guys doing here?”

Cameron shrugs. “Austin called a couple of hours ago and said the groom was ready to get out of here but didn’t want the open bar to go to waste, so I guess the wedding party called some friends. There’s a few more cars pulling up.” She looks around, spots the bar, and promptly drags both Chase and Brady away. “K love you, bye! We’re getting drinks before the line gets long!”

Chase gives me a playful eye roll as he walks away, and I smile, looking back to Mason.

Before I can say anything, I catch a glimpse of the bride past his shoulder, and sure enough, she’s tucked under her husband’s arm, sneaking toward the door.

I sidestep Mason and bend down on one knee. I get their shoes, peeking out between their guests on the dance floor. I get their hands tangled together and the kiss he presses to her knuckle. I even get the quick ass squeeze he thought no one saw, and just before they meet the opening to the hall, I shift a little more, catching their departure at an angle that opens up the shot to a full view of the room.

And then they’re gone, and a long sigh escapes.

Mason’s hand slides into my view, and I look up at him with a smile I can’t contain. It must be a cheesy one, because he chuckles as he tugs me to my feet.

“You look happy,” he says so softly, so torn by the idea as he reaches out, his knuckles brushing my cheek.

Tingles erupt over my skin, and my chin falls to my chest. “Mase…”

So many unspoken words hang between us, but when the song changes, a low, rumbling tempo taking over, the only ones that leave his mouth are three words that have left his lips before.

“Dance with me.”

My head snaps up.

Dark brown eyes stare down at me. He’s smiling easily now, but the uncertainty in his gaze isn’t missed.

I shouldn’t. I should make an excuse and walk away, so why do I set the camera down on my chair and offer him my hand when he’s yet to extend his?

You know why…

The smile that curves his lips makes the decision worth it, and I can’t help but laugh when he tugs me forward, spinning me silly until we’re on the farthest, darkest edge of the dance floor.

Smirking, he tucks me in close, and my arms go around his neck in a practiced move, my wrists resting high on his shoulders. We sway silently, and before I realize it, my eyes are closed, and my head is pressed against his chest.

His heartbeat thunders against my cheek, and I breathe deeply, pretending we’re in a different time and place altogether.

A place without guilt or fear or regret.

That place does not exist.