My father shoved me into a wedding fountain while four hundred guests applauded—then I returned in a black dress, took my secret husband’s hand, and revealed we’d been married for three years

Chapter 2

Hours before the fountain, the day had begun with a text from my sister, and I had stared at it in bed for a full minute.

Don’t forget the after-party dress. Black-tie. I’ll murder you if you wear green.

I’d laughed alone in the dark and typed back: I’ll see what the classifieds are offering in murder evidence.

That was Allison’s way. She delivered affection as instructions and love as threat, and it had worked so well for her — for all of us — that nobody in our family had ever questioned the currency.