They Switched My Groom So I Married The Wrong Man Chapter 04
My Real Husband
I end the call.
For a few seconds, I just stand there with the phone in my hand.
Ryan watches me.
“What happened?”
I try to answer.
Nothing comes out.
Then the tears start.
Ryan immediately looks alarmed.
“Hey. Don’t cry.”
He reaches toward my face, hesitates, then awkwardly wipes a tear from my cheek with his thumb.
“Your makeup’s going to run.”
I let out a broken laugh.
“That’s your concern?”
“I don’t know what else to say.”
“At least you’re honest.”
He looks relieved when I stop crying.
I take a breath.
“Come on.”
“Where?”
“We still have a wedding.”
By the time we reach the Grand Hotel, Ryan’s mother has somehow done the impossible.
Crystal Ballroom B is no longer decorated for Claire Bennett and Ethan Carter.
The sign outside now reads:
CLAIRE BENNETT & RYAN WALKER
I stare at it.
“My mom works fast,” Ryan says.
Apparently.
Before we reach the doors, music drifts from the ballroom next door.
I stop.
Through the open entrance, I see another bride and groom standing beneath an arch of white flowers.
Faces mean very little to me.
But recognition has never depended only on faces.
The groom stands the way Ethan always does when he’s uncomfortable in formal shoes, shifting his weight slightly onto his left leg.
His hand rests at the small of the bride’s back.
Ethan.
Beside him is Sophie.
My parents stand nearby.
My mother is wiping tears from her eyes.
My father is smiling.
They’re watching Sophie walk through the wedding I was supposed to have.
Ryan follows my gaze.
For a moment, he says nothing.
Then—
“What the hell?”
I look at him.
He points toward the other ballroom.
“If Ethan wanted to marry someone else, he could’ve just told you.”
“He isn’t marrying her.”
Ryan turns to me.
“That’s supposed to make this better?”
“No.”
“They’re just borrowing my wedding.”
“That’s worse.”
“Come on. Your parents are waiting.”
Mrs. Walker reaches us before we make it inside.
She takes one look at Ryan and smacks his arm.
“You told me one hour!”
“I was close.”
“You called me and said you were getting married with no warning. I called your father, your aunt, your cousins—”
Then she sees me.
Her entire expression changes.
“Oh.”
Ryan steps closer to me.
“Mom, this is Claire.”
Mrs. Walker looks at my wedding dress, then at my empty ring finger.
“You didn’t even get her a ring?”
“This happened forty-five minutes ago.”
“That’s not an excuse.”
She opens her purse, pulls out a small velvet box, and shoves it into his hand.
Ryan stares at her.
“Why do you have this?”
“Because I know you.”
Then she takes both my hands.
“Claire, I’m Margaret.”
“It’s nice to meet you.”
“I wish we’d had more notice.”
“So do I.”
She laughs.
Inside the ballroom, two people wait near the aisle.
My parents.
Or rather, the people dressed like them.
The woman wears the same pale blue dress my mother put on this morning.
The man has the same gray suit as my father.
Even their voices are close.
But the woman’s perfume is wrong.
The man’s hand feels wrong when he takes mine.
They practiced.
My parents actually found two strangers, dressed them up, and taught them enough about themselves to fool their face-blind daughter.
I say nothing.
The music begins.
The two strangers walk me down the aisle.
No one watching seems to notice.
At the end of the aisle, Ryan is waiting.
I can find him without seeing his face.
Broad shoulders.
The way he keeps flexing his fingers because he’s nervous.
The boutonnière that’s slightly crooked because someone pinned it on in a hurry.
For today, that’s enough.
When it’s time for the rings, Ryan opens his mother’s box.
He slides the ring onto my finger.
It’s slightly loose.
He notices immediately.
“It’s too big.”
“A little.”
“I’ll replace it.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I do.”
His voice is quiet.
“One that actually fits you.”
Before I can answer, the officiant smiles.
“You may kiss the bride.”
Ryan looks at me.
He doesn’t move closer immediately.
He waits.
I give the smallest nod.
Then the ballroom doors fly open.
Ryan turns and instinctively steps in front of me.
Footsteps rush toward us.
“Get away from her!”
I know that voice.
Ethan.
He reaches us and grabs Ryan by the shoulder.
“I told you to pretend to be the groom. Who told you that you could touch her?”
Ryan turns.
Ethan sees his face.
“Who the hell are you?”
I step out from behind Ryan.
Ethan looks at me.
“Claire.”
I keep my expression calm.
“Did you need something?”
He flinches.
“Why are you talking to me like that?”
He grabs my shoulders.
“Claire, it’s me.”
“I know.”
His grip loosens.
“I know you’re Ethan.”
Relief flashes across his face.
Then I take Ryan’s hand.
“And this is my husband.”
I lace our fingers together.
“Ryan Walker.”