Still, the wedding planner obeyed my mother. A server dragged a folding chair across the gravel path and placed it near the service lane, half-hidden behind the floral waste and stacked cardboard. Like he was something to be concealed until photographs were done.
“Mom,” I said, “that is disgusting.”
Her smile never moved. “Then sit with him.”
So I did.
For ten minutes, I sat beside him behind the trash cans while expensive guests floated past with shrimp towers and laughter. Daniel looked over once, then away. My father adjusted his cuff links and avoided us completely. My future sister-in-law, Vanessa, whispered something into Daniel’s ear, and they both smirked.
Voir la suite sur la page suivante:
