52. Evie

“I have the perfect lighting.” I walked us up into my bedroom. “Nothing happens in here without your complete, wholehearted enthusiasm. One no from you and it stops.”

She nodded, and I led her across the threshold, dropping her hands once we were inside. While she took in the spacious room and its heavy, dark furniture, I hit the button on the remote I kept on the nightstand, and the roman shades rose on the eight-foot windows that lined my bedroom, looking out over the greenspace behind our housing development and flooding my bedroom with late afternoon sunlight.

“The golden hour,” she whispered, as the light bathed her face, and a challenge rose in her eyes.

"Your skin really is flawless.” I picked up the camera and looked through the viewfinder, clicking my first picture.

“You’re not going to ask me to smile?” she teased, the corners of her mouth lifting.

“I want you to do whatever you want.” Another click. “You are so fucking beautiful, and you don’t even realize it.”

“I know I’m