Oliver stood there, all chill and relaxed, zero guilt in his voice. “Yeah.”
He looked all smug, like he’d just done something amazing.
I gave him a slightly helpless look, staring at that happy grin of his. “You really don’t have to take photos of me.”
“You promised,” he responded instantly, switching to a fake sad face. “I thought it was something we could share.”
“Ella, I want to show these pictures to my family.”
I clamped my mouth shut, instantly thinking of Grandpa Charlie, who was always so eager to hear about me.
“You don’t like being photographed?” Oliver looked at me with those puppy-dog eyes full of disappointment.
Every time he did that, it poked right at my soft spot. I hurried to explain, “No, it’s not that.”
“It’s not that I hate it. It’s just…”
H
