Two Hearts

The Photoshoot

Erik POV

As I got into my car, I wasn't entirely sure what to think about tonight's dinner.

The entire evening, I had watched Daniel and Laura.

Just three weeks ago, they couldn't stand being in the same room together, let alone sit at the same dinner table. But now...

Now everything about them seemed strangely synchronized. They answered at the same time. Finished each other's sentences. Noticed what the other needed without a word being spoken.

They even agreed with each other occasionally, which was something I never thought I'd witness in my lifetime.

I started the engine and pulled onto the road.

Every detail of the evening replayed itself in my mind. And the strangest part?

Neither of them seemed to realize it yet. Or maybe they simply refused to admit it.

Because despite everything...

They were still arguing. Still stubborn. Still convinced they couldn't stand each other.

Yet somehow they already moved around one another as if they'd been doing it for years.

And that worried me far less than it probably should have.

Daniel POV

Lying in my oversized king-size bed, I stared at the ceiling and replayed everything that had happened that evening. At least one thing had been accomplished. We'd agreed on the photoshoot.

Well... mostly.

There were still a few details I didn't particularly like, and judging by Laura's reactions, she wasn't thrilled either.

But my thoughts kept returning to a completely different moment. The moment before dinner. The moment my father had brought up the cabin.

No.

Not brought it up. Pointed it out. Pointed out that I'd taken Laura and the children there.

After that conversation, Laura had seemed distracted for the rest of the evening. Lost in her own thoughts. As if she wasn't really sitting at the table with us.

Which left me with only one question - What did my father tell her?

Dad said something.

I was certain of it.

Because every time I looked at Laura, she looked away. And every time she looked at me, I caught her staring.

Ever since that conversation, she'd seemed distant. And I couldn't decide whether that bothered me or scared me.

I wanted to ask.

I genuinely did.

But the more I thought about it, the more the same argument played out inside my head.

Ask her. Just ask her. It's not complicated.

So why couldn't I?

Tuesday disappeared. Somehow Wednesday followed. Before I knew it, it was Thursday.

After work, I picked the children up from school and headed home. At this point it had practically become routine. I was their personal chauffeur - School. Activities. Home. Repeat.

Oddly enough, I didn't mind.

In fact, it had become such a normal part of my day that I couldn't quite remember what my evenings had looked like before.

Once everyone was in the car, I glanced around.

"Ready?"

The children answered immediately.

"Yes!"

Laura looked like she was walking toward her own execution.

"Absolutely not."

For once, I completely agreed with her. Neither was I.

My father had outdone himself. Of course he had.

The photography studio he'd hired looked less like a studio and more like a movie set. Professional photographers. Stylists. Makeup artists. Designer wardrobes. Different backgrounds. Different lighting setups.

Everything.

If I hadn't known we were there to take a few family photographs, I would've assumed we were filming a television series.

Then again...

We were actors. Actors in our own lives.

At first, it wasn't terrible. The family photos were surprisingly relaxed. Different outfits. Different settings. Different scenarios designed to make us look like the perfect family.

At one point we were even laughing. Real laughter.

For a brief moment it felt less like a photoshoot and more like that weekend at the cabin. Free. Easy. Normal.

Then came the couple photos. And everything immediately became more complicated.

The photographer spent most of his time annoying me. Every five minutes he seemed convinced Laura and I were standing too far apart.

The final straw came when he sighed dramatically and said,

"Put your hand on her waist."

Laura and I froze.

What the hell?

The photographer looked genuinely disappointed.

"You look like brother and sister, not husband and wife."

I automatically placed my hand on Laura's waist. The second I touched her, she tensed.

"Closer," the photographer instructed. "Much closer. We need to feel the connection."

I sighed and pulled her closer. Far closer than I'd ever voluntarily allow.

Immediately I caught the scent of her perfume. Vanilla. Flowers. Something soft.

Nothing expensive or overwhelming.

Nothing like the women I used to meet at clubs who practically drowned themselves in designer perfume.

Just... Laura.

"Perfect!"

The flash exploded.

"Now look at each other."

Like obedient puppets, we did exactly as instructed. I looked into her eyes.

And suddenly everything seemed to stop.

Laura's eyes always caught me off guard. With the children, they were warm and gentle. With me, they were usually annoyed, nervous, angry, or defensive.

But eyes didn't lie.

And for one brief second, I couldn't look away.

"Perfect!"

The photographer kept taking pictures.

Only then did I realize we'd been staring at each other much longer than necessary.

The only thought in my head was - Why did that suddenly feel different?

By then I was exhausted. Laura looked exhausted. The children looked exhausted.

We'd already spent nearly four hours in the studio. Different outfits. Different backgrounds. Different poses.

Again.

And again.

And again.

I was ready to grab everyone and go home.

Then the photographer smiled. A dangerous smile.

"Let's do a few wedding shots."

Laura and I exchanged a look. The kind of look people share moments before a disaster. Everything before this had merely been a warm-up.

When Laura stepped out wearing a wedding dress, I forgot how to breathe.

For a moment, I saw her differently. Not as the woman living in my house. Not as my fake wife. Not as a problem.

Just... Laura.

And she looked beautiful. Soft. Elegant. Feminine.

Like a flower finally blooming after being deprived of sunlight for too long.

Suddenly I understood why men looked at brides the way they did. And I immediately hated that thought.

The first photographs weren't bad. Some together. Some of Laura alone.

Then came the moment neither of us wanted.

"Just one kiss." The photographer sounded entirely too cheerful. "We definitely need at least one photo with a kiss."

I swear cold sweat ran down my back.

This was the center of the disaster. The part we'd both been avoiding.

I wrapped an arm around Laura's waist and pulled her closer. Far too close. Then I brushed my lips against hers.

Briefly.

Barely a kiss.

The photographer groaned.

"No. That's not a kiss."

I closed my eyes for a second. Of course.

"It looks like you're saying goodbye to a friend."

I wanted to strangle him.

It's just for the photo.

I looked into Laura's nervous green eyes.

And then I kissed her. Properly.

Her lips were soft.

That was my first coherent thought.

Soft.

Warm.

Real.

I had expected awkward. I had expected uncomfortable. I had expected absolutely nothing. Instead, for one brief second, the entire studio disappeared.

No photographer. No cameras. No father. No contract.

Just her.

And that terrified me. Because I didn't pull away. And neither did she.

Somewhere in the distance, I heard camera shutters clicking.

Someone saying,

"Perfect."

But it all sounded muted. Far away.

Like the world had suddenly moved several feet from us.

Why wasn't she pulling away?

Better question - Why wasn't I?

And the worst part? For one impossible second, I forgot it was supposed to be fake.

When we finally separated, I found myself staring at her. Trying to understand what had just happened. Trying to convince myself it meant nothing.

Because it had to mean nothing.

It was a photograph - A performance. A role.

Nothing more. Nothing less.

Wasn't it?

Honestly, I don't remember much after that.

At some point we left the studio. At some point we got into the car. At some point we started driving home.

Nobody said much. The children talked quietly in the backseat.

But Laura and I remained silent.

After that kiss, everything felt strange.

Different.

We'd pulled away.

Looked at each other. And then pretended none of it had happened.

I stared at the road ahead. Trying to convince myself it had been nothing.

Just one photograph.

Just one kiss.

Just part of the act.

Right?