As if I was going anywhere close to Chris’s dick ever. He and I were going to be granted an annulment. Then we would never have to see each other again after this TV show was over.
It couldn’t come soon enough. The random events and tapings were cutting into my work time. I wouldn’t have agreed to all these non-bridal jobs if I had known that I would be losing time from wedding photo editing. But I had promised, and I didn’t go back on my word.
* * *
The expectant momwas reclining on a mound of silk pillows, hair freshly done and wearing a pink scarf that read, “Future mom of six!” She wagged her furry tail at me.
“Hi, Oreo!” I greeted the hugely pregnant dachshund.
Antonia, her foster mom and a former Weddings in the City bride, came over to hug me.
“I’m so glad you are photographing this puppy shower!” she said happily. “It’s in conjunction with an animal nonprofit I sit on the board of. So we do need good pictures! Hopefully the puppies can all find good homes, and we raise a lot of money!”
“I do love dogs.”
“Do you want a puppy?” Antonia asked slyly. “Might be good practice for your baby!”
I made a face.
“You look like your womb just self-ejected!”
“I’m not having a baby with Chris.”
“Not right now! But he has that huge penthouse. You’ll need to fill it up.” Antonia grinned at me.
I groaned. “I’d rather have a puppy.”
“That can be arranged!”
The wiener dog wagged her tail. I had arrived early to take the pictures of the dachshund before the guests began to arrive. Most photographers didn’t like working with children or animals, because they were unpredictable, but I always found that to be part of the charm. I liked bringing out their true personalities in the photos and prided myself on being able to take unique, authentic, but beautiful shots.
“That’s one hot mama dog!” Elsie exclaimed behind me, coming over to greet the adorable round little dog.
“I’m setting up the catering,” she said, sneaking the dog a bit of brisket. “I brought you a snack, too, so you could have something to eat before the guests arrive.”
“Thanks,” I said, taking the plate of food from her.
“Sorry, no lasagna,” Elsie joked.
I grimaced. “Chris wants me to make some for him. Gran lied and told him I had a special lasagna recipe.”
Elsie raised an eyebrow. “For someone that doesn’t like Chris, you seem to be awfully concerned with making sure he’s well-fed.”
“I’m just thanking him for pushing our annulment through,” I retorted, stuffing a duck slider into my mouth and chewing.
“Lasagna’s not that difficult,” Elsie said then rattled off a list of directions that included making a homemade sauce, grating twenty different cheeses, making a béchamel sauce, and preparing a mix of three different kinds of meat. Then she started a dissertation on how to make proper lasagna noodles.
I nodded along, eating the rest of the snacks she had brought me and coming to the realization that there was no way in wedding hell I was making Chris homemade lasagna.
But then I started fantasizing about homemade lasagna, the bubbly sauce, the cheese-pull, eating homemade lasagna with Chris and off of Chris…
Get it together.
Think of the annulment!
“See?” Elsie said after her lengthy description. “It’s actually very easy.”
I kept nodding.
