Mark had always been the matchmaker of the group. It started as a joke in their early twenties. Him playing cupid at church events, birthday parties, even bonfires in the dead of summer. But after a while, people realized he actually had a knack for it. you had noticed too.

The first time you asked Mark to set you up with someone, it was half as a joke, a way to fill a conversation after a long Wednesday night youth group. Mark didn’t hesitate, didn’t even smirk.

“Wait till you meet my brother-in-law,” he said simply, like it was a fact rather than an option.

you laughed, because what else do you do when your friend says something like that? But the years went by, and every time you brought it up again. Sometimes playful, sometimes maybe a little serious. Mark’s answer never changed. Always the same line, always that quiet confidence behind it.

It wasn’t until last spring, standing in Mark’s kitchen with a beer in hand, that you finally narrowed his eyes and said, “That wasn’t a joke, was it?”

Mark just shrugged. And that shrug said everything.

Now, months later, you stood in the reception hall of a summer wedding. Fairy lights strung from the rafters, a low hum of chatter and clinking glasses filled the air. Mark clapped him on the shoulder, steering him toward a guy across the room.

“Tyler,” Mark said, grinning like he’d been waiting years for this, “meet my brother-in-law, laroi.”