Always Second, Even at My Wedding

Clint's POV

I unclenched my fist. My voice came out weirdly calm.

"Fine. Use that one."

Joan froze, like she hadn't expected me to cave that fast.

Derek patted her shoulder. "Joan, forget it. Clint's obviously not happy. I don't want to cause problems between you guys. I can stand anywhere."

That was Derek. Always saying just enough to sound like the good guy.

Joan frowned and patted his hand. "What's he even upset about?"

"If you hadn't brought him into our circle, he never would've met me."

Every word stung.

I stared at the blown-up photo on the screen.

Derek looked sharp in his expensive suit, smiling like he owned the place.

Joan had turned toward him, her eyes full of obvious warmth.

And me?

I was stuck on the edge like some random extra who'd walked onto the wrong set.

I pulled out my phone and paid the studio bill.

"Email me the originals. Use this one for the reception display. Do whatever you want with the rest."

I turned and pushed through the studio's glass door.

Joan hurried after me and grabbed my arm. "What's your problem now? Derek came all this way to help, and this is how you act?"

I pulled free. "I'm not making a scene. Didn't I agree to use the photo?"

She hesitated, her face hardening. "You'd better mean it."

Derek jogged out with two coffees. "Guys, quit fighting. I got your favorite lattes."

He handed one to Joan, then held the other out to me.

Joan took her drink, stuck the straw in, then handed it back to Derek.

"Your stomach's sensitive. Don't drink anything too cold. Take this hot one."

Then she turned to me. "Clint, you can have the iced one. Your should be fine."

I stared at the steaming latte in Derek's hand.

Half sweet. Extra shot.

My favorite.

The iced one she gave me? With my stomach ulcer, there was no way I could drink it.

Just yesterday, she'd marked my follow-up endoscopy on the calendar.

She hadn't forgotten.

She was just used to putting me second whenever Derek was around.

I ignored the iced coffee and headed straight for the car.

"Let's go. We still have to pick up the wedding bands."

The ride was dead silent.

At the jewelry store, the associate slid a velvet box toward us.

Inside, two diamond rings sparkled under the lights.

Our initials were engraved inside, split by a tiny heart.

I'd spent three months' salary on them and designed them myself.

They were everything I'd wanted this relationship to be.

Joan picked up the men's ring without even looking at me.

"Derek, your ring finger is about the same size as Clint's. Try it on."

My head snapped up.

'A wedding ring. And she wanted another guy to wear it?'

Derek scratched the back of his neck and smiled awkwardly, but I caught a smug glint in his eyes.

"Isn't that kinda weird? It's his wedding ring."

"What's weird about checking the size? Clint's not gonna freak out over something this small."

Then Joan took Derek's hand and slowly slid my ring onto his finger.

It fit perfectly.

Derek held up his hand, admiring the diamond under the lights.

"It's gorgeous. Joan's got great taste."

I stared at the ring as my stomach twisted.

"Take it off."

Derek flinched and shot Joan a helpless look.

He tugged at the ring, but it caught on his knuckle.

"Ow... It's stuck. That hurts." He sucked in a sharp breath.

Joan immediately grabbed his hand and tried to ease the ring off.

"Don't force it. What if you hurt yourself?"

Then she glared at me. "Couldn't you have ordered it half a size bigger? Why'd you make it so tight?"

I just stared at her.

She was blaming me because my own wedding ring didn't fit another guy.

My chest tightened, and every breath tasted like metal.

I didn't argue. Didn't snap.

I pulled out my phone and saved the original photos the studio had just sent.

'These might come in handy someday.'

Half an hour later, the ring was still stuck on Derek's finger.

Joan stared at his swollen knuckle, worried.

"Forget it. Leave it on for now. We'll take it off once the swelling goes down."

Then she walked him outside, leaving me alone in the jewelry store.

I looked at the empty velvet box. The whole thing felt like a joke.

By the time I got out of the store, Derek had left. Only Joan was waiting for me.

I got into the passenger seat out of habit.

It was shoved all the way forward.

Derek's silver lighter was wedged between the leather seats, and the car reeked of his usual woody cologne.