They Switched My Groom So I Married The Wrong Man Chapter 03
The Man I Chose
He doesn’t move.
For several seconds, the only sound in the car is the engine.
Then he slowly turns toward me.
“You knew?”
“Yes.”
“Since when?”
“Since I touched your hand.”
I continue before he can speak.
“Your palm is wider than Ethan’s. Your skin is rougher. You wear a different cologne.”
He glances down at his hand.
“And Ethan’s friends wouldn’t have carried me downstairs.”
That gets his attention.
“Why not?”
“Because they were told not to talk to me unless they had to.”
“They were there to fool me, not help me.”
He says nothing.
“I have face blindness.”
I look straight at him.
“I’m not stupid.”
His shoulders drop.
For the first time all morning, he stops pretending to be Ethan.
“My name is Ryan Walker.”
The name means nothing to me.
Apparently, my face says so.
His expression falls.
“You really don’t remember me.”
“Should I?”
“We used to play together.”
“When?”
“When we were kids.”
That doesn’t help.
I spent half my childhood running around our neighborhood with whoever happened to be outside.
I carried candy in my pockets and handed it out like I owned the street.
There were dozens of kids.
Maybe hundreds over the years.
And I couldn’t recognize half of them even then.
Ryan lets out a quiet breath.
“I guess that answers that.”
“What were you doing in Ethan’s fake-groom lineup?”
His fingers tighten around the wheel.
“I wasn’t supposed to be there.”
I wait.
“I heard you were getting married.”
He looks ahead.
“I wanted to see you.”
“In a wedding dress?”
“That sounds worse when you say it like that.”
He continues.
“One of Ethan’s guys had to leave. He shoved his boutonnière at me and told me to stand in for him. He said all I had to do was wear the tux and keep my mouth shut.”
“And you agreed?”
“I thought it was some stupid wedding game.”
“It was.”
I glance toward the road behind us.
“Just not the one you thought.”
Ryan is quiet for a moment.
Then he asks, “Where are we going?”
I point ahead.
“Clerk’s office.”
He nearly misses the turn.
“What?”
“Do you have your ID?”
He stares at me.
“Claire.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
He pulls into the parking lot but doesn’t shut off the engine.
“You’re angry.”
“Yes.”
“You found out your fiancé replaced himself at your wedding.”
“Yes.”
“And now you want to marry me.”
“Yes.”
“You don’t even remember me.”
“I know.”
He gives me an incredulous look.
I unfasten my seat belt.
“If you don’t want to do it, say no.”
He catches my wrist before I open the door.
“Wait.”
I look at his hand.
He releases me immediately.
Then he pulls out his phone.
“What are you doing?”
“Making a call.”
He dials.
Someone answers almost immediately.
“Mom?”
A pause.
Ryan looks at me.
Then says, very calmly,
“I’m getting married in an hour.”
I hear a woman shouting through the phone.
Ryan winces and moves it away from his ear.
“No, I’m not joking.”
More shouting.
“Yes, today.”
He glances at me again.
“Yes, she’s here.”
Another pause.
“No, you don’t know yet. I’ll explain later.”
He starts smiling.
“Get Dad. Call whoever you can. Go to the Grand Hotel, Crystal Ballroom B.”
He looks at my wedding dress.
“And tell them the groom’s name needs to be changed to Ryan Walker.”
Another explosion comes through the phone.
Ryan ends the call.
I stare at him.
“That was fast.”
“My mother has been waiting for me to get married since I was twenty-five.”
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-nine.”
“That explains the enthusiasm.”
He laughs.
Then his expression turns serious.
“One more time.”
“What?”
“Are you sure?”
I think of Ethan standing beside Sophie.
My parents sitting in the living room planning how to replace themselves at my wedding.
Six fake grooms lined up in front of me because everyone thought I would never know the difference.
Then I look at Ryan.
“I chose you.”
His eyes stay on mine.
“Then let’s make it real.”
The paperwork and brief civil ceremony are far less romantic than any wedding movie.
By the time we walk back outside, Ryan Walker is no longer the wrong groom.
He’s legally my husband.
He takes the documents from me.
“I’ll hold these.”
“Why?”
“You don’t have pockets.”
My phone rings.
“Claire, where are you? The ceremony is almost starting,” my mom says.
“We had car trouble.”
“Car trouble?”
“A tire. It’s fixed.”
She exhales.
“Fine. Just get here as soon as you can.”
“I will.”
The line goes quiet.
My mother has a habit of never ending calls first.
She always waits for the other person to hang up.
Today, apparently, she forgets.
Or maybe she thinks I already did.
Her voice comes through again.
Fainter now.
“Claire’s fine. Just a tire.”
Then my father’s voice.
“What about her ceremony?”
“Start Sophie’s first.”
My fingers tighten around the phone.
Mom continues.
“The stand-ins we hired for Claire are already in place.”
A pause.
“Nothing can go wrong.”