At Our Wedding,My Son Called The Groom “Uncle”

Sophia's POV: Seven years after I got the marriage license with Mike Wilson, we were finally having the wedding. An hour before it all started, six-year-old Chase, dressed in a little white tux and holding his flower basket, was pacing around the dressing room, practicing his petal toss over and over. Petals were everywhere. The makeup artist laughed. "Little flower boy's taking this real serious. Afraid you're gonna mess up out there?" Chase shook his head, ran over to me, and rested his chin on my knee. "Mom, after today, are we finally gonna be a real family of three?" I froze for a second. He lowered his voice, like we were making some big promise. "After today, I don't have to call Dad 'Uncle Mike' anymore, right?" My smile stalled for half a beat, then I went back to trying on lipstick shades. For the past two years, every time Mike blew us off for Evan, I would have Chase call him "Uncle Mike." The first time, Chase had a real high fever. We waited three hours at the ER, but Mike was at another hospital with Evan because he was scared of needles. That night, Chase cried and wouldn't say it, so I didn't push. The second time was the kindergarten sports day. Chase was standing at the starting line when Mike got a call. Evan had gotten into a fight at school, and Viola Grant was crying, saying she couldn't handle it. Mike didn't even stay to watch Chase run his relay. That time, Chase hesitated a long while before he finally called him "Uncle Mike." Then came the third time, the fourth. Each time he caved a little faster. But he never did it because he wanted to. He loved his dad too much. So even after getting left behind so many times, he'd always throw himself back into Mike's arms the next time he walked through the door. The wedding was supposed to be the same. When we got our license seven years ago, Mike held my hand and promised that once his company was stable, he'd give me the real deal, a proper ceremony. The company eventually found its footing. By then, Viola had already filed for divorce, and the wedding was postponed for the first time. Then Viola's mom passed. Her son Evan had trouble switching schools. Her depression came back. Every time, there was a reason that just had to come first. And every time, Mike would say, "We're already a family. When we have the wedding makes no difference." I kicked up a fuss. The worst time, I smashed a whole set of dishes. He just stood there quiet till I was done, then said, "Sophia, she's raising that kid alone. You really gotta make a scene over this?" I waited seven years. Till even I'd almost forgotten why I wanted this wedding so bad in the first place. Then six months ago, Mike put a wedding planning binder in front of me. He said, "Sophia, let's do it." Right then, I still caved. I told myself if he could just stand there at the end of the aisle waiting for me, just this once, with nobody pulling him away in the middle, then everything from before, I'd let it go. Chase clearly thought the same. "After today, I'm gonna call him Dad forever." He said it again, like he was checking with himself. My throat went tight. I patted his head. "Okay. After today, no more 'Uncle Mike.'" The second the words left my mouth, the dressing room door swung open. Mike walked in. Behind him came Viola and her little boy. Evan was about Chase's age, fair-skinned, with long lashes, big eyes, and a kinda shy look. His parents had split when he was small, his dad was never around, and his mom raised him solo. Mike wore his custom black tux for the day, sharp-featured, with a white boutonniere pinned to his chest. I'd pictured him dressed like this, walking toward me, a thousand times. But when I actually saw him, the first thing I noticed was his hand holding Evan's. Chase straightened up right away. "Dad." Mike gave him a quick smile, then turned to me, voice real soft. "Sophia, gotta run something by you." He nudged Evan forward a little. "How about having Evan as a flower boy as well?" The room went dead quiet. Viola spoke up, looking a little embarrassed. "Evan saw Chase with both his parents and the tux, and he got real jealous. Said he doesn't have a dad and asked if he could join in. I figured what's one more kid, right? Just more petals." I kept quiet. Mike paused, then kept going. "Chase, what do you think? One more flower boy, you two scatter petals together, more fun, right?" Chase slid off the couch and came to stand next to me. He looked at Evan, then at his dad, then back at me. I saw something flicker in his eyes. He was waiting to see what I'd do. Mike jumped in again. "Already got the outfit sorted. Won't mess up the timeline." I glanced at Chase. His fingers were clamped so tight around that basket his knuckles went white. He'd practiced for this role for two whole weeks. Just the petal-tossing part alone, he'd gone up and down our hallway more times than I could count, finally puffing his chest out to tell me, "Mom, I got it down. I ain't messing up today." I turned back and said, flat out, "No." Mike's brow twitched. "Come again?" "I said no," my voice stayed steady. "Everything's set for one flower boy. You add another, and the photos, the blocking, the timing, we gotta redo all of it." "I already called the planner, it's fine." "It ain't just that." I cut him off, looking him dead in the eye. "Chase worked his butt off for two weeks to earn this spot. We're fifty minutes from walking down that aisle, and you walk in saying add one more. You ever think how that makes him feel?" Mike went quiet for a beat. Then he crouched down to Chase's level. "Chase, Evan hasn't got a mom and dad together. You're the younger one. How about you let your big brother join in?" Chase dropped his head and didn't say a word. He hugged that basket tighter against his chest. Mike waited a few seconds, got no answer, and looked back at me. "Sophia, Evan's just gonna stand there. It ain't like he's stealing Chase's part. Why you making such a big deal out of this?" My throat tightened. Huh, making a big deal. Seven years, every single time I spoke up, that's what I got back. The stage manager's voice came through from outside. Guests were seated. The emcee was poking his head in. The wedding crew was standing in the hall waiting. Those sounds kept piling in, one after another. I looked at Chase's profile. He wasn't crying. He was just quiet, slowly loosening his grip on that white basket and setting it down by his feet. Like a kid who'd learned how to step back before anyone asked. I knew that look. He had it the night of the fever. He had it on sports day. Every time before the waiting turned into nothing, he'd already made himself into somebody who didn't need anything. I closed my eyes. I could've kept saying no, but the music was already playing out there, the crew kept pushing, and all the guests were sitting down. I didn't want to fight today, and I sure didn't want to stop this wedding, the one I'd waited seven years for, before it even started. I gave Chase a little nod. "Both of you, then." Chase was quiet for a few seconds. Then he slowly let go of the basket. "Okay." Mike let out a breath, clearly relieved. He patted Chase's head. "That's my boy." After Evan got changed, a staff member handed him an identical basket. The two boys stood side by side at the entrance to the banquet hall. Mike walked toward the far end of the aisle. Chase suddenly turned back to look at me. I thought he was gonna change his mind. But he just asked, real small, "Mom, after the wedding's over, Dad's gonna stay with us for good, right?" I looked at him through my veil. My throat was so tight. "Yeah." I'd gone and made that promise for Mike again.