Chapter 1: Turn Around

On my wedding day, I took an Uber to the hotel.

When the wedding cars pulled up to the entrance, my fiancé, Hollis, stopped me just as I was about to get into the white limousine reserved for the bride.

“Let Gianna ride in this one,” he said. “I’ll call you an Uber.”

I froze, and it took a full two seconds for his words to register.

Hollis kept going.

“Gianna doesn't plan on ever getting married. She wants to experience what a wedding feels like.”

“I already promised her she could make the entrance today.”

I turned my head.

Gianna, already in a wedding dress, was sitting inside the stretch Lincoln, which was covered in white roses.

When Hollis saw the tears welling in my eyes, his tone softened slightly.

“A wedding is just a formality, Willa. All that matters is signing the marriage certificate.”

“After Gianna gets her experience, you can have your turn.”

With that, he climbed into the car and drove off, leading the long procession of luxury vehicles.

I closed my eyes, standing motionless on the curb.

It had been like this ever since we started planning the wedding.

Gianna said she’d never get married, so she got to try on the wedding dress first.

She got to pick the venue first.

And now, even the wedding itself had to be hers first.

The light turned red. The cars ahead sped farther and farther away, leaving the Toyota Camry I was in far behind.

The driver glanced at me in the rearview mirror.

“Miss, are we still going to the hotel?”

I watched the motorcade disappear from sight and managed a faint smile.

“No. Turn around.”

Whether it was the wedding or the man, if I had to let someone else have it first, then I didn’t want it at all.

…

My voice cut through the brief silence between songs on the car radio.

The car was quiet for a few seconds.

The driver froze. “What was that? Turn around?”

I looked down, my fingers tracing the fabric of the wedding dress I was wearing, then picked up my phone.

The lock screen was an engagement photo of Hollis and me, standing by the sea on Long Island, smiling for the camera.

Someone on the sidewalk was talking, their voices drifting in through the half-open window.

“Did you see that? That line of cars was insane. A Maserati, a Porsche, a whole row of them.”

“I know, right? Can you imagine how much that costs?”

Another voice cut in.

“I just came from the South Bay Hotel. I swear I saw a girl in a wedding dress taking an Uber to her own wedding.”

“Seriously?”

My fingers paused.

The screen went dark. The satin of my dress crumpled in my fist.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and said it again.

“Yes. Turn around.”

“Back to the hotel. I’m not getting married.”

The light turned green.

The cars behind us started honking.

The driver didn’t ask any more questions and made a U-turn at the next intersection.

Once the car was moving steadily, an iMessage from Hollis popped up.

[I told the lead cars to speed up. Don’t try to catch up.]

[Have the driver take a detour. I don't want you running into Gianna. She doesn't want a crowd around her before the entrance.]

[Also, when you get here, use the staff entrance. If anyone sees you and her entering the same banquet hall one after the other, she’ll be embarrassed.]

Hollis rarely sent me messages this long.

But every single sentence was about protecting Gianna.

Just moments ago, in front of all those people, he had pulled me away from the limousine and pointed me toward an Uber.

He hadn’t spared a thought for my humiliation then.

I tapped the text box and slowly typed my reply.

[I’m not marrying you. Do whatever the hell you want.]

I was about to hit send when a banner notification flashed at the top of my screen, then another, and another.