They Switched My Groom, So I Married the Wrong Man

Because I have face blindness, my fiancé thinks he can replace himself with another groom at our wedding and I will never know. So I choose the wrong man on purpose. Six men stand in front of me in identical black suits. Ethan calls it the Find Your Groom game. Everyone in the bridal suite thinks it's hilarious. I have face blindness. I can see people's faces. I just can't reliably recognize who they belong to. Ethan and my best friend, Sophie, have spent years turning that into a joke. At college reunions, Ethan used to make one of his friends dress exactly like him, then ask me to guess which one was my boyfriend. At malls, he and Sophie would disappear into fitting rooms, switch clothes with other people, then wait to see how long it took me to find them. Every time, I begged them to stop. They always laughed and told me I was too sensitive. Today, I don't cry. I walk slowly past all six men. Then I return to the one standing closest to me. I place my hand in his. His fingers close around mine. Their plan has worked. Last night, I woke up thirsty. On my way to the kitchen, I heard voices in the living room. My parents, Ethan and Sophie. They weren't planning a wedding surprise. They were discussing how to use my wedding to give Sophie the bridal experience she had always wanted. Sophie doesn't want to get married or have children. But apparently, she has always wanted a wedding. The experience of being the bride for one perfect day. My mother had made the first suggestion. "Claire can't recognize faces anyway." My father had agreed. "Then let her pick Ethan from a group. If she chooses the wrong man, everyone can laugh it off." Ethan had finished the plan. "We'll run both ceremonies at the same time. I'll do Sophie's first. Afterward, I'll make an excuse, come back, and finish Claire's wedding." As if my wedding were a shift he could clock into after he finished playing groom for someone else. Sophie had only asked one question. "What if she picks the right one?" Ethan had thought of that too. He wouldn't be one of the six men. There was never a correct answer. Now Sophie smiles brightly. "Oh my God, Claire. You actually got him on the first try." The hand I'm holding is larger than Ethan's. The palm is rougher too. I may have face blindness. I'm not stupid. But I don't expose them. Instead, I squeeze the stranger's hand and smile. "Well?" He goes still. "What?" "Are you going to make your bride walk all the way downstairs?" For half a second, he doesn't move. Then he quickly turns and crouches in front of me. I climb onto his back. His shoulders are broader than Ethan's. Another difference. I wrap my arms around his neck. "Let's go." He carries me toward the elevator. I look back at Sophie. "We'll meet you downstairs." A tear slips down my cheek and lands against the stranger's neck. His body stiffens. When he speaks, he tries to make his voice sound lower. Closer to Ethan's. "Did I hurt you?" I say nothing. "Is my back uncomfortable?" I tighten my arms around his shoulders. "No." "Then why are you crying?" I close my eyes. "I'm happy." And strangely, that isn't entirely a lie. Finding out who people really are before I marry one of them feels like a wedding gift. The stranger carefully lowers me into the waiting car. He closes the door, circles around, and gets behind the wheel. Back upstairs, Ethan finally returns to the bridal suite. Ethan looks toward the empty room. "Where's Claire?"