He was trying to make himself taller because someone had convinced him that being short made him less worthy of standing beside me.
That hurt more than any insult they had directed at him.
“Look at me,” I said.
He turned.
“You're the only person I ever wanted beside me.”
He smiled, but his eyes were wet.
“Even if I ruin the pictures?”
“Especially then.”
He laughed softly.
“That’s a dangerous answer.”
“I’ve always been dangerous.”
“That’s because I raised you.”
“Exactly.”
The coordinator appeared again.
“It's time.”
Matthew took a deep breath.
Then the doors opened.
Two hundred guests rose.
For one second, the room seemed impossibly large.
The music filled the ballroom.
I could see Ryan waiting at the altar.
But I could also feel Matthew beside me.
His hand was still slightly unsteady.
I squeezed it.
He looked down.
“Ready, Jo?”
“No.”
He smiled.
“Excellent.”
Then he whispered:
“Let’s ruin a wedding.”
I laughed.
And we walked.
For the first few seconds, all I could see was Ryan.
Then I noticed my best friend grinning through tears.
Someone in the second row was already crying.
Another guest pressed a hand to their mouth.
Matthew's steps stayed steady.
His shoulders were straight now.
But this time, it wasn't because he was trying to look taller.
It was because he was proud.
Halfway down the aisle, I heard a laugh.
I turned slightly.
Selena had lifted her wedding program in front of her mouth.
Jacob leaned toward her, grinning.
Then, as we passed, Selena whispered:
“At least the photographer can crop it.”
Matthew's hand tightened around mine.
For one terrible second, I felt him shrink beside me.
Not physically.
Emotionally.
His shoulders dropped just slightly.
His fingers tightened around mine.
And suddenly, the ballroom disappeared.
I couldn't hear the music.
I couldn't hear the guests.
I couldn't hear anything except the echo of a nineteen-year-old boy sitting at a kitchen table, filling out paperwork because someone had to become my guardian.
I remembered his terrible braids.
His old car.
His vending-machine hot chocolate.
His exhausted face.
His stupid jokes.
His promises.
And the fact that, all these years later, he was still protecting me.
Only now, there was something I had to protect him from.
The people who couldn't see his worth.
I stopped walking.
Matthew looked at me in confusion.
“Jo?”
I turned toward him.
Then I turned toward the two hundred people sitting in that room.
And I realized something.
My wedding day wasn't about looking perfect.
It wasn't about expensive decorations.
It wasn't about photographs.
And it certainly wasn't about whether everyone approved of who stood beside me.
It was about choosing the people who had earned their place there.
I looked at Matthew.
Then I smiled.
Because there was never going to be any question.
My brother belonged at the center of my story.
He always had.
And no one was going to make him feel otherwise.
Not on the day I married the man I loved.
Not after everything he had sacrificed for me.
Not while I was holding his hand.