On my wedding day, two guards stopped me outside the doors to my own ceremony.
My fiancé, Matteo De Luca, called. "Let Bianca go in first. Wait in the side hall for twenty minutes."
I froze.
Matteo continued, "Bianca doesn't believe in marriage. She'll never get married in her life. She just wants to experience a wedding ceremony this once. After she's had her turn, you can come in."
Before the doors closed, I saw Bianca already in her wedding gown, standing in front of the rose wall I had built with my own hands.
Matteo was adjusting her veil. Sensing my silence, he softened his voice. "This wedding between Bianca and me is just for show. The one who will truly become Mrs. De Luca is you. Don't take a performance so seriously."
The call ended, and applause soon drifted out from inside the church.
Two hours later, I pulled on a delivery jacket and climbed into the flower van leaving the estate.
My floral assistant, Nora, gripped the steering wheel, her eyes red.
"Where are we going? Are you coming back for the ceremony?"
I watched the estate shrink in the side mirror.
"No."
I didn't want a wedding where I had to wait my turn. And I sure as hell didn't need a man who'd always make me.
