I asked my coworker to pose as my boyfriend at my ex-husband’s wedding, but instead of helping me, he mocked me and said, “No one would ever date you.” Then my fake date showed up and made him regret laughing at me.

My ex-husband’s wedding invitation came by text message.

That was so Max.

“Come to my wedding with Claire and bring our daughters. Oh, and your invitation includes a plus-one, but we both know you don’t have anyone.”

I read the message twice.

Then I placed my phone face down before my ten-year-old daughter could ask why I was staring at it like I wanted to throw it against the wall.

Max and I had been married for almost thirteen years.

We had two daughters, ten and three, and apparently thirteen years had been long enough for my husband to decide that my body had violated an agreement I hadn’t even known existed.

“You don’t look the way you used to,” he had told me.

That was before I discovered Claire.

His personal trainer.

When I confronted him about the affair, Max didn’t apologize.

He shrugged.

“Well, what did you expect? Men are visual. And Claire is perfect.”

I remember standing in our bedroom while he packed his bags.

“You cheated on me because I gained weight?”

“You used to have a slim waist, Ronnie.”

He folded another shirt.

“When was the last time you even looked at yourself in the mirror?”

During the divorce, I looked at myself constantly.

I checked my stomach when I got dressed. I stood sideways in front of the mirror before leaving the house. I changed shirts because I could hear Max’s voice saying that my arms looked better covered.

Then Max announced that he was marrying Claire.

And he sent me that invitation.

I could have simply skipped the wedding.

But our daughters would be there, and my oldest daughter had already asked twice if I was going.

So I said yes.

Then I stared at the “+1.”

I wanted Max to see that I was fine.

Actually, better than fine.

That was how I ended up standing beside Edward’s desk at work on Monday morning.

Edward had become one of my closest friends during the divorce. He had listened without trying to fix everything, brought me coffee on the day my divorce was finalized, and once spent forty minutes helping me write a response to Max that didn’t contain any of the words I originally wanted to use.

He was also tall, athletic, and annoyingly handsome.

Exactly the kind of man Max would notice.

“I need a favor.”

Edward looked up.

“That sounds expensive.”

“Come with me to my ex-husband’s wedding.”

He blinked.

“As emotional support?”

“As my boyfriend.”

He stared at me.

“Fake boyfriend,” I added.

“Oh. Much healthier.”

“Please?”

“Why me?”

I tried to joke.

“Because you’re annoyingly presentable.”

“I’m putting that on my performance review.”

I laughed, but Edward kept watching me.

“Veronica.”

I sighed.

“I want Max to look at me with you beside me and wonder if he made a mistake, Ed.”

Edward leaned back in his chair.

The answer seemed to bother him.

But after a moment, he nodded.

“Okay.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

I should have wondered why he agreed so easily.

Instead, I spent the following week worrying about what to wear.

Max had trained me well.

By Saturday, I had rejected three dresses because of things he had once said about my stomach, two because of my arms, and one because I could practically hear Max asking whether I owned a mirror.

Finally, I chose the dress I liked before I started imagining his opinion.

Edward picked me up.

There was a large cardboard box in the back seat of the car.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“Stuff for donation.”

I didn’t ask anything else.

The wedding was enormous.

Flowers everywhere. White tablecloths. Champagne. A ballroom with enough chandeliers to light a small airport.

Our daughters were thrilled.

My three-year-old had already managed to get cake frosting somewhere, even though the cake hadn’t even been cut yet.

Then Max saw us.

His eyes went first to me.

Then Edward.

Then back to me.

For one wonderful second, he didn’t know what to say.

Claire was standing beside him in a fitted white dress. She looked beautiful.

I hated that it still hurt to notice.

Max approached.

“So this is your plus-one?”

“Max, this is Edward.”

Edward held out his hand.

“Congratulations.”

Max looked him up and down.

Then he laughed.

It wasn’t a polite chuckle.

It was an actual laugh.

“Him?”

Several people nearby turned.

I felt Edward’s sleeve tighten beneath my fingers and realized I had grabbed his arm.

“Max, why are you laughing?” I asked.

“Him?”

He looked around as if expecting someone else to share the joke.

“Your boyfriend?”

“Max.”

Claire touched his arm.

“Max.”

But he continued.

“I’ll never believe that. No one would date you. Especially someone like him.”

My face burned.

Then Max gave me the same mocking smile he always used when he wanted to make an insult sound like a joke.

“What? Did you pay him to come with you?”

“No one would date you. Especially someone like him.”

For half a second, I was back in our bedroom, watching him pack his bags.

I wanted to disappear.

Edward didn’t raise his voice.

He smiled.

“Actually, Max, I brought you a wedding gift.”

I wanted to disappear.

Max looked surprised.

“For me?”

“Especially for you.”

Edward turned to me.

“Give me five minutes.”

Then he walked away.

Max watched him leave.

“Seriously, Veronica?”

I didn’t answer.

He smiled again.

“I knew it.”

Claire looked at him.

“Knew what?”

“Oh, come on. Look at that guy.”

He gestured toward the door Edward had just walked through.

Then toward me.

Claire’s expression changed slightly.

I didn’t want to know what she was thinking.

Five minutes later, Edward returned carrying the cardboard box from the car.

He placed it on the nearest empty table.

“For the groom.”

Max laughed.

“You weren’t kidding.”

“Open it.”

By then, several guests were watching.

Max opened the flaps.

His smile disappeared.

He reached inside and pulled out an enormous pair of pants.

He stared at them.

“What the hell is this?”

“Mine,” Edward said.

Max looked at him.

Then at the pants.

“These?”

“These.”

I stared too.

Edward took the pants from him.

“I used to wear these.”

Max let out a confused laugh.

“Okay.”

“I was a lot heavier.”

“So?”

Edward looked at me.

“Veronica knows.”

I frowned.

“I do?”

“About three years ago, before we were friends, someone brought birthday cake into the office.”

I remembered.

Barely.

Edward had been standing near the break room.

He refused a piece.

“People like me don’t need cake,” he had said.

I was having a terrible week because of Max.

So I answered without thinking.

“Funny. My husband talks about me that way.”

Edward’s smile disappeared.

“I hate hearing that from him. And I don’t like hearing it from you either.”

At the time, Edward simply stared at me.

I took my piece of cake and went back to my desk.

Now he was standing at my ex-husband’s wedding, holding those pants.

“You remember,” he said.

“Yeah.”

“That stuck with me.”

Max looked impatient.

“What exactly is the point of this?”

“The point is that Veronica never told me how much I should weigh.”

Edward folded the pants over his arm.

“She never told me I would be more valuable if I looked different. She just made me realize I had started talking to myself the same way someone else was talking to her.”

I could feel people listening.

I wished they weren’t.

Edward continued.

“I stopped waiting to live until I looked acceptable. Eventually, I changed some habits. My body changed too.”

Max gave a mocking smile.

“Veronica inspired you to get in shape. Great.”

“No.”

Edward’s answer came quickly.

“That’s exactly what you don’t understand.”

Max’s smile faded a little.

Edward looked at him.

“She didn’t fix me. There was nothing about me that needed fixing before I deserved to enjoy my own life.”

Claire looked at Max.

Then at me.

Max let out an uncomfortable laugh.

“Touching. But what does that have to do with me?”

“She didn’t fix me.”

Edward handed him the pants.

“Because tonight, you looked at me and decided that my appearance proved something about Veronica.”

Max shrugged.

“It does.”

Edward looked at him.

“Then why are you still trying to prove it?”

Max stopped smiling.

Edward turned to me.

“Can we talk somewhere private?”

His smile had disappeared, and suddenly I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear what came next.

We went into the hallway.

“Veronica, Max was wrong about you. But there’s something I should have said before we came.”

“What?”

“You asked me because you thought bringing someone who looks like me would prove something to him. I said yes because I thought you’d realize it wouldn’t.”

I stared at him.

My face burned.

“You could have told me that before we came, Ed.”

“Yes.”

“Instead, you let me walk in there pretending you were my boyfriend. You don’t get to teach me lessons by tricking me.”

“You’re right.”

No explanation.

No excuse.

Just that.

I walked farther down the hallway before crying at my ex-husband’s wedding, which was a level of humiliation I refused to provide for free.

“You’re right.”

Edward followed me but kept several feet between us.

Then a little voice made me stop.

“Mom?”

My oldest daughter was standing near the hallway.

I quickly wiped beneath one eye.

“Hey.”

She looked toward the reception hall.

“Why did Dad say nobody would date you?”

I crouched down so we were closer to eye level.

“He was being cruel, sweetheart.”

She thought about it for a moment.

“Edward isn’t your boyfriend?”

“No.”

“Then why did you say he was?”

There are moments when lying to your child would be much easier.

I couldn’t do it.

“Because I wanted your dad to think someone wanted me.”

She frowned.

“But we wanted you here.”

I didn’t answer.

There was nothing else to add without making it smaller.

She hugged me.

Then someone called her from the reception, and she ran back.

I stayed crouched for another second.

When I stood, Edward was still waiting.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“I’m still mad at you.”

“You should be.”

Before I could answer, Max approached.

He had left the pants on the table.

His arrogance had returned.

Max looked at Edward.

Then at me.

“You’re marrying Claire,” I said. “You got what you wanted. Why do you still need me to be undesirable?”

He didn’t answer.

Claire had followed him.

She stood several feet behind us.

Max glanced at her.

“She’s twisting everything.”

Claire looked at me.

Then at him.

“You told me she had stopped trying.”

Max frowned.

“She did.”

Claire’s eyes stayed on him.

“That’s not what I just heard.”

Max wasn’t smiling anymore.

And for the first time since he had packed those bags, I wasn’t waiting for him to tell me what that meant about me.

Back inside the reception hall, Edward picked up the pants and started putting them back into the box.

“What are you going to do with those?” I asked.

“Take them to the donation center.”

I looked at them one more time.

“Good.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“I’m still mad at you,” I said.

“Fair.”

“You owe me.”

“Also fair.”

“Start by getting those pants out of my ex-husband’s wedding.”

Edward lifted the box.

“Best fake date you’ve ever had.”

“The only fake date I’ve ever had.”

“Still undefeated.”

I laughed despite myself.

Soon afterward, I gathered the girls. My youngest daughter had somehow managed to double the amount of frosting on her dress.

As we reached the exit, Max called my name.

“So what happens with you and Edward?”

I turned.

Even now, he wanted an answer.

“You really need to know, don’t you?”

Max opened his mouth.

I kept walking.

If Edward wanted me, Max could measure that.

If Edward didn’t want me, he could measure that too.

Outside, my oldest daughter stopped beside the car and smoothed her dress with both hands.

“Mom?”

“Yeah?”

“Does this make me look weird?”

The question was casual.

That made it worse.

I could have told her she looked beautiful.

Instead, I asked:

“Do you like your dress?”

She looked down at herself.

Then she spun around, making the skirt swing around her knees.

“Yeah.”

“Then I like that answer.”

She smiled and climbed into the car.

Her little sister followed right behind, leaving a frosting handprint on the door.

“I’m sticky.”

I laughed.

“You definitely are.”

After buckling her in, I walked around to the driver’s side.

My reflection waited for me in the dark car window.

For a second, Max’s voice returned.

“When was the last time you even looked at yourself in the mirror?”

So I looked.

I didn’t inspect my waist.

I didn’t turn sideways.

I didn’t wonder what Max would see or whether Edward would approve.

I simply looked.

“Mom!” my three-year-old yelled from inside. “Go!”

I opened the door and got in.