I looked at the papers.
“Are we poor, Matt?”
He immediately turned an overdue electric bill facedown.
“Absolutely not, pumpkin.”
I pointed at it.
“What’s that?”
“We’re temporarily unpopular with the electric company.”
I laughed.
That was how Matthew raised me.
Nothing was allowed to remain frightening for too long if he could turn it into a joke.
When he couldn’t afford a babysitter, I went with him to work.
He called those nights “Hotel Matt.”
He would arrange two chairs together for me.
He'd bring crackers.
A blanket.
My homework.
Sometimes a vending-machine hot chocolate.
Then he'd whisper dramatically:
“Welcome to Hotel Matt. Breakfast is tomorrow.”
“What's for breakfast?”
“Whatever has the highest carbohydrate content.”
“Do we have room service?”
“No.”
“A pool?”
“No.”
“Television?”
“If you finish your homework.”
I believed those little lies completely.
I genuinely thought I was lucky.
Other kids had babysitters.
I had hotels.
Other kids had someone to pack their lunch.
I had Matthew, who occasionally put a cookie in mine and told me it counted as a food group.
Other kids had someone waiting outside the school gate.
I had my brother leaning against his old car, pretending he had been there forever when I knew he had probably rushed straight from work.
He never let me see how tired he was.
He never complained.
And he never once made me feel like my existence had ruined his life.
That mattered more than he ever knew.
Then I Met Ryan
Years passed.
I grew up.
I went to college.
I got my first apartment.
I learned to cook more than pasta.
And eventually, I met Ryan.
He made me laugh.
He listened.
He was patient.
Most importantly, he understood Matthew.
From the beginning, Ryan knew my brother wasn't just some older sibling I happened to be close to.
He knew what Matthew had done.
He had seen the photographs.
He had heard the stories.
He had watched Matthew show up for me over and over again.
So when Ryan proposed, there was never really a conversation about who would walk me down the aisle.
There didn't need to be.
“Of course Matt will,” Ryan said.
It seemed obvious.
To us.
Not everyone agreed.
We were having dinner with Ryan's parents when Selena put down her wineglass.
She looked at me.
“Wait. You're serious?”
I frowned.
“About what?”
“Your brother is actually walking you down the aisle?”
“Yes.”
“In front of two hundred people?”
I stared at her.
“He raised me.”
Selena exchanged a glance with Jacob.
Then she gave a small laugh.
“Honey, people are going to stare.”
I felt my face warming.
I tried to keep my voice calm.
“Why would they stare?”
Selena shrugged.
“Because it’s unusual.”
“Unusual isn't the same as wrong.”
“I didn't say it was wrong.”
She took a sip of wine.
“I just think weddings are about presentation.”
That word stayed with me.
Presentation.
As though my wedding day were a magazine spread.