Found Spring Without Them

I fed our photo into the studio shredder while Stefani fixed Wesley's tie.

At the sound, she glanced over. "Nate, it's just a picture. Don't make a scene. It's embarrassing."

Wesley sat on the couch, looking sorry.

"Is Nate upset? We can use his photo at the reception instead. I don't mind."

Mom grabbed his hand and frowned at me.

"Your brother was born with a heart condition. He's rarely this happy. Do you really have to ruin it?"

Stefani handed the invoice to the clerk.

"We'll use Wesley's photo at the reception. Put two of Nate's on the digital display so he doesn't feel too bad."

I stared at the shredded strips inside the machine and said nothing.

Afterward, Stefani drove us to the luxury hotel hosting the wedding for the menu tasting.

The private dining room had dark red tablecloths. A menu sat beside me, but she didn't even let me open it.

"Cut all the seafood and spicy dishes. Replace them with mild, steamed options. Wesley's heart can't handle anything too intense. Add a few more hearty soups."

The banquet manager hesitated and looked at me.

"What about the groom's preferences?"

Stefani finally glanced my way, that familiar impatience in her eyes.

"Nate isn't picky. He's always been easygoing. Just do what I said."

Wesley coughed softly.

"Stefani, Nate likes spicy food. This is his wedding tasting. Don't change everything because of me."

Stefani poured him a glass of warm water, her voice soft.

"Don't worry about him. He'll eat anything. Drink some water."

The first dish was fennel chicken soup.

The sharp licorice smell hit me, and my stomach twisted. My fingers dug into the edge of the table.

Stefani knew fennel made me sick.

Back in college, she brought me fennel soup when I had a cold. I threw up so hard outside my dorm I couldn't stand.

She took me to the hospital and told the doctor, "I'll remember. I'll never let him have fennel again."

I covered my mouth and rushed to the restroom. Dropping beside the toilet, I threw up until tears ran down my face and bitterness burned my throat.

Footsteps stopped outside.

Stefani leaned against the doorframe, sounding exhausted. "Nate, Wesley finally has an appetite, and you had to ruin everyone's meal?

"Even if you're jealous I swapped your reception photo for his, you don't need to pull this pathetic act. We're about to get married. Grow up."

I wiped my mouth, my voice raw. "You two enjoy the meal. Let him have the wedding too. I'm not marrying you."

She froze, then laughed. "Using marriage as leverage? That's getting old."

Wesley's voice carried down the hall. "Stefani, should I not have come? Nate seems really upset."

Stefani turned and walked away, tossing one last line over her shoulder.

"Calm down. Don't make me come back and comfort you later."

I didn't go back to the private dining room. I took a cab home alone.

Wedding decorations filled the apartment.

White ribbons and warm string lights framed the windows. On the nightstand sat the paintbrush Stefani bought me on our first trip to the art store.

I picked it up and called my mentor.

"Prof. Grant, I've made my decision. I'll be in Linden Bay in a week. Is the studio still available?"

The line went quiet for two seconds.

"Nate... are you sure?"

I stared at the "Future Mr. and Mrs." decal on the window.

"I am."

The lock clicked, and Stefani walked in carrying a takeout bag from the hotel.

She set it on the table, then noticed the brush in my hand.

"Wesley said you didn't eat, so I brought you plain oatmeal. Don't drag this out."

I slipped the brush back into the drawer as her phone buzzed.

A message from Wesley lit up the screen.

[Stefani, I want to add a line under the reception photo. Can it say: Your Groom?]