Love Is Betrayal

18.Beach Shoot

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

~BECCA~

I swallowed hard, staring at the phone ringing in my hand. Different thoughts were flying through my head. Aunt Marie’s call has always given me anxiety, but with Faith’s health deteriorating, it has gotten even worse because she could call to give bad news.

“Aren’t you going to pick that?” Patricia’s voice interrupted my thoughts as she walked into the room, a packaged dress in her hands.

I swallowed hard before swiping the green button and placing it over my ears.

“Hello, Aunt Marie,” I croaked.

“We need to talk,” her voice was stern. I could mentally picture the scowl on her face based on the tone of her voice.

“Please let’s do that some other time,”

“But—“

“I have to go “I hung up the call and placed it back in my purse, exhaling the breath I didn’t know I was holding. I didn’t want anything that would make me feel nervous. Right now, all I want is to focus on the shoot so I can go back home and rest.

“Are you ready to see the first dress?”

“Yes, please,” I nodded.

She brought the dress out of the package and I gasped as I feasted my eyes on one of the most beautiful dresses I’ve ever seen. It was a yellow sundress, but with 3D paper flowers carefully sewn on it and tacked with neat embroidery and stitches.

“This is so pretty!” My eyes shone in excitement as I looked at the dress.

“I’m glad you like it,” Patricia chuckled. “I selected it based on the pictures of you that Mr. Blackwill sent to me and I knew the color would look good on your skin tone,”

“It looks luxurious, yet it fits the beach vibe perfectly. You do have good eyes,”

“Thank you,” she blushed, her cheeks turning red. “The makeup artist is around so we can begin to glam you up before the sun goes down. The hairstylist is also here,”

She snapped her hands in the air.

The front door opened and three beautiful ladies walked in, each holding a kit of beautiful tools.

“Good afternoon, Miss Becca,” they all chorused.

“Good afternoon,” I mumbled in awe as I watched them arrange their tools. The next minute, I was seated on the beauty seat and the ladies began their work on me.

I sat awkwardly as they powdered my face with all sorts of beauty products. Logan never bothered me about such things. All I ever did was put on some lip gloss, and I was good to go.

However, I did understand that things were a lot different with Tristan because he was in the spotlight, unlike Logan.

An hour later, they were done.

“You look amazing, Miss Becca," Patricia complimented, nodding at the makeup artist as she arranged her box.

“Thank you. This is the part where I see how I look,” I cleared my throat.

I was made up in the living room and didn’t see what I looked like because I wasn’t offered a mirror.

“Right! My apologies!” Patricia disappeared into the room and returned with a big hand mirror

“Thank you,” I collected it from her and gasped in shock as I stared at my reflection. I can’t believe this. I looked like a life-sized Barbie.

“Wow!” Was all I could say as I opened my mouth in awe. I looked great, just like how I did the previous time when I was glammed for the party but this was a much softer glam that complemented my face.

I sure could use this as a frequent makeup look. Turns out makeup isn’t so bad, I just had to find the right fit.

Patricia helped me fit into my dress and led me outside, where the shoot was taking place.

I could spot Tristan, talking to the photographers under the palm trees. He was dressed in a nice yellow shirt with a white singlet underneath and matching pants.

But his was a deep mustard yellow while mine was a light soft yellow shade.

The color suited his skin so well that I found myself staring longer than I intended to.

“Becca,” he called as I stopped in front of him. The yellow set made his brow eyes pop underneath the sun. His golden skin glowed like he had bathed in butter and my goodness, his body in that yellow set was to die for.

“You look gorgeous,” Tristan complimented as he locked eyes with me. For a moment, we stood still, dazed and lost in each other’s good looks.

I cleared my throat and snapped back to my senses. “Shall we begin?”

“Oh yes! Of course!”

The photographer walked forward and directed our poses.

“Your hands should be on her waist, Mr. Blackwill,” he said, gesturing with his hands for us to move closer together.

I swallowed hard as I felt Tristan’s hands on my waist. I could feel my insides twist, but I wasn’t sure what I was feeling.

“Smile for me, please,”

I managed an awkward smile, my heart suddenly beating fast in my chest. I was starting to get nervous and I didn’t understand why. It’s just a fake photoshoot, why am I being so dramatic?

“Okay, Miss Becca. Turn around and look into his eyes. Mr. Blackwill, your hands should still be around her waist,”

What! My cheeks flushed red but luckily, it was hidden underneath layers of makeup.

I did as he said, swallowing hard as we made eye contact. He looked at me with so much love in his eyes. How can he pretend so well that it looks real?

I bit my lips, trying to push back my anxiety.

“Yes! Just like that, give him that sexy look,” the photographer’s voice echoed loudly in the air.

I instantly freed my lips, cursing under my breath in embarrassment.

“Looks like you’re enjoying yourself,” Tristan smirked, a tug at the edge of his lips

“You wish,” I scoffed and let go of him. I turned to the photographer.

“Excuse me, but I need a bathroom break,”

“That’s fine. Kindly come back on time so we can prep you for the second look,”

I nodded and walked away as swiftly as my legs could carry me. My mind drifted off as I walked on the sand toward the beach house. I placed my hands on my chest and my racing heart had finally begun to calm down.

What was that all about? Why is Tristan making me nervous all of a sudden? And why does he keep looking good with each passing day? Why does—-

“ I can’t believe Mr Blackwill is getting married to some girl. What are you going to do about this, Elora?”

I paused in my tracks as I heard those words. It was Patricia speaking on the phone as she paced up and down on the side porch.

I tilted my head to the side in confusion. Who is Elora, and why is Patricia reporting my affairs to her?