Title: Golden Hour Perfection
Word Count: 471
"Don't stare at me," she exclaims boldly, trying not to crack a smile, her effervescent blue eyes sparkling in the late afternoon light.
He grumbles a half-hearted disgruntled response, blowing his cover as laughter trickles up his throat and out of his mouth, echoing around them. He presses the shutter release, the shutter clicking to life, capturing the magic, and the pessimism in her eyes.
"You're beautiful!" The words escape his mouth in a soft, breathy whisper, his lips curve into an undeniable smile. He never smiles.
"You're crazy," she jokes, rolling her eyes. "Are we done?"
He nods his head in response, his eyes staring at her in that special way that she's come to know; he has his shot, the million dollar gem – golden hour has never proved to be more rewarding than at this very moment.
She pulls her dark hair back, securing it in a thin black elastic band, and begins the tear down of his gear. He stops and watches her for a moment, admiring her grace and beauty, wondering how he became the luckiest man in the world. It's not just her beauty or sense of humor; she gets him, she gets him like no one ever has.
. . . .
The shutter clicks and she slowly opens her eyes, staring up at him. "What are you doing?"
"Remembering this moment forever," he answers just as his finger presses the shutter release again, capturing the embarrassment that lights her face.
"Just come here," she says, reaching her hand up to him. The shutter clicks again, capturing another moment, another beauty. With her, every photo is a keeper because she is his treasure; once lost but now found. "Hank!" She half whines, sticking out her bottom lip – pleading.
"Sarah!" He mimics her tone and her actions, snapping another photo.
Hank sets the camera down on the nightstand, kneeling on the bed and kissing her. Reciprocating, wrapping her arms around his neck, Sarah knows that right here, in his arms and his life, is where she is supposed to be. She spent years waiting for this and she's not about to let it slip through her fingers.
"I love you, Sarah!" Hank says, pulling away for air. "Will you marry me?"
Sarah sits up, taking one of his hands, running her other hand through his hair. Her smile grows exponentially, her lips parting slightly as a puff of air escapes. "Yes!"
He slips a platinum ring on her finger and pulls her in for a kiss, happier than he's been in a long time. He never thought he'd find love again, but he found it the day she breezed into his studio, her dark hair blowing behind her, and now he's going to hold onto it with everything he has – this is right. This is perfect.