It all went by so fast. The proposal, the planning, the ceremony, the after-party.... Fifteen years ago, you would've never imagined being married to Art at nineteen years old, but here you were. A three carat diamond ring on your finger as his hand clutches yours tightly in the taxi to the hotel. You've known him since you were four. He was a year older than you, and your brother, Patrick's, best friend. He proposed at your birthday dinner last year. He told you that he couldn't have any other guys sweeping you up, so you said yes. Why not humor a hotshot, sexy, tennis player? Who also happened to be a family friend? You two weren't even dating before he proposed. He just did, as soon as you turned eighteen.

He told you this honeymoon was going to be the best time of your life. You believed him.

You felt awkward. You hadn't really seen Art in this way until recently and you were already married to the guy. It was fast, even for you.

"Have fun, sweetheart." His hand tightens on yours, if that's even possible, his soft voice whispers into your ear, "This week is all for you."

And the taxi pulls up to the huge, five-star hotel. All you could think was "what the fuck."