“Hi, Ava,” Sophie calls out warmly as she exits the passenger side.

“Hi,” I squeak back, caught off guard. “What are you guys doing here?”

She looks at Nadia, who frowns at me. “What do you mean?” she asks. “Have you forgotten we’re doing a series of articles on your search for the perfect wedding?”

“No, of course not,” I say. “I just didn’t realize we were doing the whole shebang again.” I gesture to Kelly and Sophie. Then a thought occurs to me. If they’re here to do makeup again, then that must mean…

“Hi, Ava.” At the sound of his voice I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment before I open them and turn around. “James, hi.” He looks even better than I remembered.

“I thought last time was a one-off job?” I say, trying hard not to betray how glad I am that this was not, in fact, the case.

“It was supposed to be, yes.” His manner is slightly stiff, as if he is here against his will.

“Oh?”

He frowns as if he’s irritated by having to explain. “The magazine’s normal photographer is still sick so Marilyn begged me to help out again today. I’ve made it clear it’s the last time, though. This isn’t my normal line of work.” He adds the last sentence disdainfully, and I wonder what exactly he means in particular. Weddings? Women’s magazines? Dying women in wedding dresses?

“Oh.” And there I was, hoping he’d wanted to see me again. My mother hears the flat tone in my voice and gives me a sharp look. Meanwhile Amanda is giving me bug eyes.

“James, can I have a word,” Nadia calls. “I just want to compare notes so we’re both on the same page as to the direction of the article.”

“Oh my God, it’s that hot photographer again,” Amanda hisses when James leaves to join Nadia next to her car. Unlike Nadia, James made quite the first impression on both Amanda and Kate when he’d come to the house for the first article. They’d been all giggly and silly in his presence like they were sixteen-year-old schoolgirls. He’d been nothing but professional, though, almost too professional. He had refused to be drawn into small talk, and as soon as he was satisfied he had the right photo he packed his things away hastily and left while I was getting changed. It had seemed rude, which confused me because I’m normally a good judge of character, and my first impression of him was not that.

“Is it?” I answer Amanda, feigning nonchalance.

She elbows me. “Oh, whatever, Ava. Don’t pretend you didn’t notice last time. You couldn’t take your eyes off him.”

I’m rescued by the arrival of the farm owners, a lovely couple in their fifties who, according to their messages, fled the rat race of the city to farm goats, make cheese, and host weddings in the barn they had converted specifically for the purpose. The couple, Ruth and David, are as warm and welcoming in person as they were in their messages offering the barn and their services. She takes my hands and wells up with tears when we are introduced, which threatens to set my mother off too.