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I made my displeasure known politely. It wasn’t Katie’s fault. She was doing her job by notifying me of the unfortunate situation. I couldn’t shoot the messenger. I’d worked in customer service during college, so I understood her fear of being yelled at for something she didn’t do or had no control over. Hell, even when I became a professional photographer, celebrities with their noses sky-high mistreated me as though I were their servant.

I didn’t come from money. Other factors colored my world and gave me a different perspective. That was one reason I turned to photography. I wanted to capture a moment in time. It told a story. I’d always wondered about the hidden story sitting beside the visible photo—the unseen narrative. That invisible story had always called to me.

When I take pictures of fashion models, people see the gorgeous body and clothing that provokes a certain emotion. But what they don’t see is the chaos before or after, or the model’s personality. The real person behind the layers of makeup, the many angles and poses it took before the last picture. Most of all, no one ever wonders about the person taking the photo.

People loved my work, which was why I never had a problem landing jobs. I enjoyed freelancing because it gave me the freedom to set my rates and to choose my clients. I collaborated with a lot of beautiful people. Some had characters to match the beauty, others made me want to vomit.

Despite being surrounded by beauty and glamor, I hadn’t met anyone who saw the real me. Or anyone who wanted to discover the Kiera behind the camera lens. It hadn’t bothered me so much before. But now, something had changed.

That one night had changed me, and I wanted to forget it. Why couldn’t I?

Enough of the self-pity, Kiera.You have more important things to worry about than a man. A man who probably forgot about you already. A man who’s avoided you for too long. A man with a roster of women waiting for him.

Shoving the irritation away, I dragged my one suitcase, carry-on, and purse out of the airport toward an Uber car. The missing luggage was on a different flight, due to arrive tomorrow. I could live with that. It wasn’t the end of the world.

I couldn’t let stress weigh me down during this trip. I needed clarity to do my job well.

The Uber driver placed my luggage and carry-on in the trunk while I slid into the back seat of his white Honda Civic. I could’ve scheduleda livery car to pick me up, but that would’ve taken longer for confirmation. The Uber was fine, and I’d just expense it later. The driver hopped into his seat, whistling a cheerful tune.

“I’m Juan Torres. Welcome to Austin, Texas.Where to, miss?” He had olive skin, dark hair speckled with silver on the sides, and a goatee with a little braid that ended with a bead.

I rattled off the name of my destination, leaned back, closed my eyes, and sighed. It had been a hectic week, trying to organize my mom’s grocery delivery, her medical bills, and other paperwork that needed my attention before I took off to this job.

“Long flight?” Juan asked.

I opened my eyes, and my gaze landed on a pretty girl inside a laminated picture dangling from his rearview mirror along with an air freshener.

“Long week,” I confessed. “I’m Kiera, by the way.”

“I hear ya. You here for vacation or visiting family?” As he pulled the car away, his body moved with the reggae music blasting in the car. “Want me to turn down the volume?”

He seemed at ease with himself, like there was nothing in the world that bothered him. Perhaps the job required him to be friendly and comfortable with strangers.

“Nah, I’m good. Reggae’s cool.Work brought me to Texas, but I’m hoping to steal a few days to explore. Shhh.” I placed a finger over my lips. “Don’t tell anyone.”

He laughed. “Your secret’ssafe with me. Barton Creek is a nice area by the lake. I want to buy a condo there for my girls.” He tapped the picture, sending it swinging back and forth. “The scenic view is breathtaking.”

I hadn’t been to this area of Texas, and it was another reason I took the job.

“You have two daughters?” I asked.

“One daughter. She just graduated high school and is going to the University of Texas in the fall. The other girl is mywife.” He glanced back at me and smiled. “They’re the loves of my life.”

From the rearview mirror, his eyes gleamed with joy and pride. My chest tightened, wishing I had a father who cherished me and my mom the same way. I didn’t know my father. He’d never been in my life, and he didn’t care about my mom. Bitterness stung my tongue every time I thought about him.Be a proton, always positive.My friend Michelle had made a T-shirt with that phrase on it for her lover. It was true, though.

“You gotta keep the dream alive bythinkingpositive,” I told him as I recalled Michelle showing me, Audri, and Natalie her creation. The girls and I had created T-shirts to support an auction.

Laughing, he slapped a playful hand against the steering wheel. “I’m gonna borrow that for my Catherine. It’ll get a chuckle out of her. She’s been ill. Liver problems. Laughter is good for the heart.” His cheerful voice turned serious. “She’s cut back on work. My poor baby feels guilty for being sick. Can you believe her?” He shook his head. “I didn’t mind taking on a second job. I just want her to get well. Ubering isn’t so bad.”

“Sorry to hear about your wife.” I understood the anxiety over worrying about a loved one’s health. Concern for my mom flashed constantly in my mind, especially with her recent diagnosis. “What do you do when you’re not driving?”

“Maintenance for a seniors housing complex. Today is my day off.”

Nodding, I said, “You’re doing a great job, Juan. You make it seem easy.”

“Thanks.”

For the next few moments, we stopped chatting and let the reggae music fill the car. I glanced out the window and my heart leaped at the sight of the man driving by in a black SUV. No—that couldn’t be him. What would he be doing in Texas?