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grabbing the fabric. “You ruined it! You did this on purpose! You jealous witch!”
“It was an accident,” I said. “Chloe, stop—”
“I’m making a scene? You show up smelling like a sewer and I’m making a scene?”
Her eyes darted around wildly. A waiter stood frozen nearby, holding a tray of drinks.
She grabbed a bottle off the tray. Heavy glass. Vintage Pinot continue reading …
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