“I thought he said it was going to be a small wedding?” I say to one of my bridesmaids, who I’ve never met before.

We’re in a back room, ostensibly getting ready, but the team back at the house did such an… intense job on me that there’s really nothing more left to be done.

“It is small. I think it’s only a hundred people.”

I take a good look at her. She’s high-class, and completely unlike myself in every way. Even without her jewelry, her dress, and her thousand dollar shoes, her mere presence would scream refinement and sophistication. And yeah, snobbery, too. She has a way of looking at everything with her nose slightly pointed to the celling, and I get the feeling that I don’t like her very much.

“How do you know David again?” I say.

“We’re old friends,” she says, without offering any more by way of explanation.

So these are the sorts of people he hangs out with?

“It’s too bad you didn’t have any close friends,” she says, giving me an odd look. “But I’m glad David asked me, since I always do love being a bridesmaid.”

“I do have friends,” I say, basically lying, unfortunately. “They just couldn’t make it. But my friend Sasha is going to be here. You haven’t seen her, have you?”

“Sasha,” she says, rolling the word around in her mouth as if she doesn’t like the taste of it. “She’s your friend?”

“You sound like you don’t believe me.”

There I go, sticking up for myself again.

The door opens, and Sasha enters, wearing jeans and a partially ripped t-shirt. She looks like she’s been up all night drinking.

“This, um, person is your friend?” says the snooty woman, whose name I don’t even want to know, let alone remember.

“Sasha!” I say.

“Olivia, what the hell are you doing?”

“You’re late,” I say. “But I think they can still get you into the dress. Did you bring any shoes?”

“Never mind,” says the snooty woman, sounding pleased with herself. “I have some extras. I always do travel with extras.”

“Great,” I say.

“Olivia, you’re really getting married? To your boss? You’re going through with that crazy plan? I thought you said you’d never do it, not in a thousand years. And you told just recently that you’d considered it but turned it down. You lied to me?”

I shrug my shoulders. “Yup,” I say.

“I thought the whole thing at the apartment with the movers was some kind of really elaborate practical joke.”

I can’t answer. All I can do is shrug my shoulders. I hate lying to her.

“It’s real,” I say.

“Look,” says Sasha, giving the snooty woman a nasty look. “Can I speak to you in private?”

I nod and follow her out into the hallway.

She pulls me into the bathroom violently and slams the door.

“I don’t know what the hell’s going on with you, but if you’re having some kind of crisis about your virginity, this isn’t the way to handle it. I mean, getting married just so you can get laid.”

I’m about to tell her that that’s completely wrong, and that I’m in love with him. But that doesn’t sound that believable either, and honestly her idea is more plausible. She might get mad, but at least she’ll believe it.

“That’s right,” I say. “That’s what I’m doing. But at least I’ll finally lose my virginity, right? That’s what the whole wedding ceremony is about, right?”

“You’re crazy,” says Sasha, shaking her head.

“Come on,” I say. “Sasha, listen to me. I know this is crazy. But… it’s like, I never do anything crazy. And this is my chance to break out of that. This is my chance to break out of my little shell, and to do something different crazy. I just want to be like you, out having fun all the time, but I’m just not like that. This is just my own way of doing something totally insane.”

Sasha breaks into a grin. “That does sound like you,” she says. “But this is really crazy. You know that, right?”

“Yup,” I say. “You don’t even know the half of it.”

“What do you mean?”

“There’s no time for that. You’re going to do the wedding, right? It wouldn’t be my wedding without you there.”

“Of course,” says Sasha.

“OK, come on then.”

Now it’s my turn to drag her back into the room, where she strips down and changes into one of the dresses. The snooty woman, whose name we learn is Chloe, helps us do Sasha’s hair. Chloe ends up coming through with shoes, rushing out to her car to bring back another pair of thousand dollar shoes. Despite her obvious feelings about Chloe and her snootiness, Sasha can’t help but break into a smile when she puts the shoes on.

“They’re really nice,” she says.

“They’re the best,” says Chloe.

“They’re very pretty,” I say.

Apparently once you get Chloe talking about shoes, she simply won’t shut up. Sasha nods along politely for a while, while I completely tune out.

What’s happened to me?

It hits me all of a sudden: what I’m doing is completely crazy, right? Sasha’s completely right.

I’m getting married to a man that I barely even know, and I’m already living in his house. Sure, it’s not a real wedding in the sense that I’m doing it for the money. But even though it’s not real, here I am in a beautiful building wearing a beautiful wedding dress, getting ready with my bridesmaids. It sure feels real, even though it’s not. And in everyone else’s eyes, it is real. Sasha thinks it’s real, and so does my dad.

To my horror, my dad took the whole marriage thing very well. He didn’t even ask me any questions about who the guy was, or why he’d never heard of me dating anyone. He simply congratulated me way too enthusiastically, as if he’d just been waiting to marry me off his entire life.

I’m lost in my own thoughts, and before I know it, there are people rushing all around us. The wedding coordinators are dressed to the nines, wearing headsets, talking to each other over the radio, and shuffling us around.

Everything becomes an absolute blur of confusion and chaos. I barely even know what’s going on, except that they’re getting me ready to walk me down the aisle.

My dad’s here, and he gives me a grin, before taking me by the arm and weaving it through his. He’s wearing a suit, looking better than normal. But his hair is still slicked back in the way that only long time gamblers can manage. He can’t shake the sleaze, not one bit.

Oh yeah, this is what happens: I take his arm and he walks me down the aisle.

I thought David said it was going to be a small wedding. But as I glance around, trying not to do so obviously, it seems like there are a couple hundred people here. And they’re all staring at me. Most of them are smiling, but there are about a dozen faces here or there, all women, who glare daggers at me. I suppose I’m taking their man away from them. Or at least that’s what they think.

The building is some kind of non-religious chapel, and it’s simply beautiful. Intricate and ornate stained glass windows run practically from the floor to the high vaulted ceiling. There’s a pulpit, and a woman who looks something like a Buddhist monk is standing at the front.

David Masters is there, and he takes my breath away.

…quite literally.

For a second, I think I’m going to start coughing. It feels as if I’m choking.

But I get my breath back, taking in deep sighs that I hope no one else notices.

He looks incredible.

His hair is perfect, and the navy blue suit he’s wearing hugs his body in just the right way.

Most importantly, he’s staring at me like he’s never stared at me before. His eyes lock into mine and there’s no doubt in my mind that there’s nothing in them but intense desire for me.

But this is a fake wedding, right?

It’s not real, I remind myself.

It’s not real. He’s not really going to be my husband.

Well, in the eyes of the law, he is.

As I stand in front of him, not listening to the words that the monk lady is saying, gazing into his eyes, I have to remind myself to breathe.

The rest of the world has fallen away to a dull roar, and the only thing that remains for me is David Masters, who doesn’t cease fucking me with his eyes for a single moment.

I can’t believe how incredibly lucky I am to be marrying this man, this Adonis who stands before me, who’s completely fixated on me and nothing else.

But, wait, I’m not really going to be marrying him.

…right?

But it wouldn’t be a real fake wedding without a fake wedding night, right?