JASMINE (844-332-2639) ext 262
We had arrived at the wedding reception, Edward and I, much later than most of the other guests. “Is always good to make an entrance,” he said, before walking in like some sort of head of state shaking hands and giving phony smiles to anyone who crossed his path. “I look at everyone as a potential customer pal,” he once told me early on in our courtship, and his philosophy seemed to work well for him, as he had made first million by age of thirty. “I made money right way too, with material, land, buildings, none of the internet nonsense.”
The appetizers came and they were good, especially the arugula salad with sun-dried tomatoes and a light vinaigrette dressing. I ate in polite silence and listened as the wives of Edward’s colleagues complained about their husbands and kids. As the main course was being served, the photographer was using opportunity to snap a few candid shots. Yes, photographers and their candid shots, their real shots. My mind began to drift, drift back to my time with Paul.
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