Chapter 1
Zinnia
"Waiting around for the love of my life to show up has gotten me nowhere. That's why this year I plan to marry a complete stranger." Zinnia smiled as she clicked the next slide of her presentation. "Well, near complete. I'm imposing a mandatory thirty-day cohabitation period between the first date and the wedding."
"Hold on-time out. What the hell is this?" Zinnia's best friend Fiona gestured at the TV screen. She was sitting on their couch next to their other best friend, Grace, who looked equally bamboozled. "I thought we were having a business meeting about the shop."
Zinnia never said that. She'd scheduled the meeting by blocking off an hour on their shared calendar with a simple request: Please keep an open mind! The last time she'd done that, she'd asked for help with setting up an online merchandise store to sell her art-a request that had led to the birth of their small business, ZnO2.
"This is my marriage-merger proposal, so it's business related." Her confident smile wilted into a wince. "Sort of. In a way."
"Marriage-merger?" Grace asked.
"Z is obviously joking." Fiona's breathy laugh sounded anything but sure. "This is a joke. Right?"
"Wrong." She hadn't spent two days making this presentation for nothing. "Step one: I make a proposal profile on a dating app targeted toward people specifically seeking long-term relationships. I'll clearly state my intentions and requirements, which include having a career with a stable job. Trades preferred, but a desk job is acceptable depending on what it is."
Each step of her plan had its own fantastically designed slide, complete with animation and custom doodles. Her cartoon avatar alternated between winking and holding up a peace sign.
"Two: an introductory call closely followed by an in-person meeting at a safe location. Three: set a wedding date no more than thirty days out. Four: make arrangements to move in together while simultaneously spending alternating weeks at each other's primary place of residence. Five-"
"No." Fiona began shaking her head. Her newly dyed honey cinnamon-colored curls bounced around her shoulders. "No no no nonononono. No."
Zinnia sighed fondly. "Just saying 'no' isn't constructive feedback. It's barely coherent."
"What she means is HELL NO. They are not moving in here because you are not doing this." Grace's death stare could blow up a planet. She was gorgeous in a way that inspired longing and fear in the hearts of mortals-a brown-skinned deity ready to dole out a heaping dose of wrath. "I've never even seen you go on a date! You've never even wanted to!"
"And that's why I'm calling them meetings. Using the correct terminology is very important for this project," she teased, trying to lighten the mood, and when it didn't work, she sighed again. Less fondly, more frustrated. "What is so bad about leading with what I want? Dating apps have documented abysmal success rates as it is. It's in my best interests to be up-front and transparent."
"It's not that it's bad, it's just . . . why? Where did this come from? You can't marry a stranger in thirty days." Fiona looked as distraught as Grace did furious. With her panicked wide-set eyes and pale flushed skin, she resembled a woodland fairy sprinting away from danger.
"I can and I will. People do it all the time."
"Yeah, and they end up divorced or murdered for the insurance money," Grace snapped.
"Both excellent points. Five: negotiate the prenuptial agreement." She continued with the next slide. "In the event of divorce, we will each keep the assets we initially brought to the marriage. Anything acquired while together will be split evenly. Additionally, you two will both be listed as the sole beneficiaries for one of my life insurance policies, and my parents will be on the other. In the event of my untimely death, my future spouse won't get a dime."
"Oh, good." Grace's tone was pure sarcastic fury. "We'll need that money to flee the country before we get arrested for murder after avenging you."
"That's exactly what I was thinking. See? I have it all planned out."
"I can't breathe." Fiona wheezed, folded in half, and stuck her head between her knees. Grace immediately began rubbing her back and speaking in low, soothing tones to coax her into calming down.
Zinnia bit her lip and forced herself not to turn away from the truth that was once again punching her in the stomach. Watching her best friends tiptoe around each other, obviously in love and both unwilling to make the first move, was the answer to Fiona's why. She was not being left behind. Their impending domestic bliss as they moved from friends to lovers to newlyweds to parents was inevitable and she'd be good goddamned if they wholesomely turned her into a third wheel.
The three of them did everything together. From the very beginning, their friendship had always been like that saying: If your friends jumped off a bridge, would you jump too? Zinnia's answer was a resounding yes. Off the bridge. Over the cliff. Thelma and Louise-style all the way down. If they were partnering up, then so was she.
"This is good for me." She moved on to the next slide, filled with wedding images and screenshots from dating shows stretching back fifty years. "Everyone doesn't have to walk the same path. Arranged marriages of convenience exist for a reason. People, cultures, executive producers all over the world believe in it. Being uncommon doesn't mean it won't work. Besides, it's not like I have to say yes to the first person who applies. I'm not desperate. I just want something different."
"But why does it have to be thirty days?" Fiona asked. "Why not wait until you've known them a year? Or six months even. Give yourself time to fall in love first."
"That's not what this is about. I'm not interested in falling in love. I'm interested in getting on with my life."
The plan had been to wait until high school was over to start dating because-
One: her super religious parents demanded it.
Two: high school was pure hell (and she'd been one of the head demons in charge).
Three: once she liberated herself from demonhood, all she'd wanted to do was make her parents proud by getting into college. As they say, C's get degrees, or in this case, a diploma.
During college, she decided to wait until she graduated. She'd gone to a PWI. That "ring by spring" life didn't apply to her or any of the other Black girls-gorgeous, gorgeous Grace included.
And then they met Fiona through mutual friends and became a trio. Three years later, she'd never been happier.
The End . . . or not, considering her best friends' happily ever after was imminent.
Zinnia's person was out there, somewhere, and she'd realized in stunning I barely leave the house clarity that she was never going to meet them. They were never going to find each other, like two ships passing in eternal night. Her best bet was to settle for second best.
She devoted one hundred percent of herself to her friendships and her marriage would be no different. They'd work hard and build a life together based on mutual respect and understanding. Become built-in buddies for road trips, movie dates, and vacations. They'd rely on compassionate problem-solving, have collaborative goals, and be each other's biggest cheerleader. Safety, warmth, support-she wanted it all and wanted to give them the same in return.
"If you've already made up your mind, why bother telling us?" Grace asked.
"Because I need you with me on this." The next slide was a picture of the three of them on the day they met overlapped with a picture they'd taken last week during movie night. "Whoever I choose will be a part of your lives too."
Fiona stared at her, stone-faced. "It's truly frightening how you just did that. How do you always know what we're going to say?"
"It's a gift." Zinnia smiled. She knew them better than anyone.
"There's no way in hell you thought we'd be fine with this," Grace said.
"I knew there'd be some . . . opposition, but I've convinced you to do way worse than helping me get married."
Grace frowned. The unfocused, faraway look in her eyes probably meant she was mentally ranking every zany scheme and life side quest Zinnia had ever suggested.
"You know, some people would consider this fun." She gestured to her presentation.
"Those people aren't us, Z." Her best friends exchanged a look-and there it was again. The growing connection between them that didn't even consider leaving room for her.
They knew their dynamic was shifting as well as she did. The homey townhouse apartment they all shared was filled with charged silences, furtive glances, and unspoken secrets.
Looking back, Zinnia realized that the shift had actually started when they moved in. Her roommates had a similar decor vision in mind, the kind of purposefully cluttered house popular in movies from the 1990s. They also had more money than her. She didn't feel right objecting when they were paying for almost everything.
She did get to choose one lamp, though-a bulbous yellow mosaic monstrosity sitting next to her usual side of the couch. She swapped out the lamp shade as the seasons changed. Currently, it was white and covered with green raindrops for spring.
That was how she felt on her worst days-like an offbeat lamp whose light had gotten swallowed up. If it disappeared, no one would even miss it because they had much brighter, better lights.
Zinnia had seen this storyline before. They'd have each other and she'd have no one. They'd try their best to keep things normal for as long as they could, but it wouldn't last. Their little three-party democracy would collapse into a built-in two against one, and if either of them took her side, it'd cause ripples in their relationship.
She didn't want that to happen. She didn't want them to ever feel like they had to choose. Her best friends. Her roommates. Her business partners. She loved them, individually and together. She wanted them to be happy.
"I keep getting this feeling that I'm missing something," Zinnia confessed, completely off script. "And that if I don't try now, I'll miss my chance altogether. I know this sounds drastic, but I just want to be happy. Nothing else has worked, so why not this?"
A marriage-merger was an admittedly far-fetched idea, but hey. History was written by the winners, and hindsight would do a lot of heavy lifting when she told this story to her future family.
"Fine." Grace relented as she crossed her arms. "But they're not moving in here. You can take that right off your damn list now."
"And if we're helping you, we get a say in how this goes down," Fiona said.
"That's not-"
"Nope." Fiona pointed at her. "No objections. My commonsense precautions are nonnegotiable."
Zinnia didn't anticipate this part. No one could knock her off kilter like a spontaneous Fiona-when she set her anxiety down long enough to let that side of her out, anyway.
"All right. What kind of precautions are we talking about here?"
Chapter 2
Zinnia
"Guardian Angel in position. Over," Fiona announced.
"This is ridiculous. Over." Grace refused to use her code name, Avenging Fury, as expected.
Zinnia laughed quietly. "Agreed, but I do love Fi's enthusiasm."
Was it a little strange for her friends to eavesdrop on her first marriage-merger meeting through earbuds? Maybe. But they both decided that since dating shows had producers, writers, and crew on set to keep participants safe, it was unacceptable for Zinnia to have no one.
So, Fiona volunteered to sit near the entrance to monitor the parking lot situation, Grace guarded the emergency exit, and Zinnia sat alone at her table, smack-dab in the middle of a diner they'd never been to before.
Goldeen's was an incredible mishmash of 1950s-inspired decor and underwater magic. The employees even wore decade-accurate uniforms embroidered with a seahorse instead of a poodle.
"Incoming," Fiona said. "Jet Blue has been spotted. I repeat, Jet Blue has been spotted. Over."
Applicant #25 but Meeting #1: Samuel Kyle.
Things hadn't exactly been going well so far.
Everyone within a fifty-mile radius was welcome to apply, but men responded seven times more often (which was so fucking disappointing). Less than half of those applicants even made it past her aggressive filtering system. And if they did make it to the call, the conversations were so dry, she hung up feeling thirsty.
"Over here." Zinnia stood up and waved.
Her tailbone-length braids were barely a week old, and her makeup wouldn't dare smear. She was shaved, plucked, moisturized, and smelled so divine four strangers had already gone out of their way to ask the name of her perfume. Looking good made her feel good, and she wanted to be confident for her first meeting.
Sam, however, had chosen to wear jeans, a black band T-shirt, and old sneakers . . . which was fine! Not a big deal. He had beautifully rich brown eyes, a great smile, and a . . . character-building patchy beard. His code name came from his dark blue hair that currently looked like it hadn't seen the right side of a comb in days-a messy look was absolutely fine!
It was fine.
"Wow." Sam took his sweet time looking her up and down. "You actually look like your picture. I'm shocked." He grabbed his chest as if he were having a heart attack.
"But you already knew that." She laughed lightly to soften the reminder. "We had a video call yesterday."
"You could've been using a filter. Girls usually do."
"Red Flag One!" Grace seethed in her ear.
"Seconded," Fiona agreed.
It hadn't even been thirty seconds! Each meeting was allowed three red flags before her friends could initiate Mission Abort.
"Why don't we sit down?" Zinnia suggested.
He sat next to her while glancing around the diner. "Where are your friends?"
"I didn't want them to sit with us, but they can hear everything." Zinnia pointed to her earbud. She regretfully didn't have a dishonest bone in her body. Besides, if he needed support, she would've wanted him to be honest about it too. He absolutely could've brought his friends.
"Cool. I get it." He pulled out his phone and asked, "So, do I pass? Can I have your Rule of Thirds handle now? Or do you use some other platform?"
"I already told you I don't have any personal social media accounts."
ZnO2 did have a few for business, of course, but Fiona managed those. She was also the primary pusher of memes and videos in their group chat. That felt like enough to keep Zinnia somewhat in the pop culture loop-a personally curated best friend feed was far superior to anything an invasive algorithm could generate.
Copyright © 2025 by Claire Kann. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
