I Asked My Coworker to Pretend to Be My Boyfriend at My Ex-Husband’s Wedding—Then He Made My Ex Regret Laughing at Me

“Come to my wedding with Claire. Bring the girls, too. Your invitation includes a plus-one, but we both know you don’t have anyone.”

That was Max.

Of course it was.

My ex-husband and I had been married for nearly thirteen years. We had two daughters, ten and three, and I had once believed we were building a life together.

Then Max decided I no longer looked the way he wanted.

“You don’t look like you used to,” he told me one night.

A few weeks later, I discovered Claire.

His personal trainer.

When I confronted him, I expected at least an apology.

Instead, Max looked at me as if I were the unreasonable one.

“What did you expect?” he said. “Men are visual. Claire is perfect.”

I stood in our bedroom while he packed his things.

“So you cheated because I gained weight?”

He sighed.

“You used to have a slim waist, Ronnie. When was the last time you even looked at yourself in the mirror?”

After that, I looked constantly.

At my stomach.

My arms.

My reflection from the side.

I changed clothes because I could still hear Max telling me what I should hide.

Then he announced that he was marrying Claire.

I could have skipped the wedding.

I almost did.

But our daughters were going, and my oldest kept asking whether I would be there.

So I said yes.

Then I looked at the invitation again.

Plus one.

I wanted Max to see that I was fine.

More than fine.

I wanted him to wonder whether leaving me had been the biggest mistake of his life.

Which was how I ended up standing beside my coworker Edward’s desk on Monday morning.

“I need a favor.”

He looked up from his computer.

“That sounds expensive.”

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

He blinked.

“As emotional support?”

“As my boyfriend.”

His eyebrows shot up.

“Pretend boyfriend,” I added quickly.

“Oh.” He nodded thoughtfully. “Much healthier.”

Edward had become one of my closest friends during the divorce.

He listened without trying to fix me. He brought me coffee when the divorce became final. Once, he even helped me rewrite an angry message to Max before I sent something I would have regretted.

He was also tall, athletic, and annoyingly handsome.

Exactly the kind of man Max would notice.

“Why me?” Edward asked.

I tried to make it sound like a joke.

“Because you’re ridiculously presentable.”

He kept looking at me.

“Veronica.”

I sighed.

“I want Max to see me with you and wonder if leaving me was a mistake.”

Something about my answer seemed to bother him.

He leaned back in his chair.

Then he nodded.

“Okay.”

I should have wondered why he agreed so easily.

Instead, I spent the entire week worrying about my dress.

Max had trained me well.

I rejected one dress after another because I could hear his old comments about my waist and arms.

Eventually, I chose the dress I had liked before I started imagining what Max would think.

Edward picked me up Saturday afternoon.

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

“What’s that?”

“Donation stuff.”

I glanced at him.

He was already looking at the road.

I decided not to ask.

The wedding was enormous.

Flowers everywhere. White tablecloths. Champagne. Chandeliers that seemed excessive even for a wedding this expensive.

Our daughters were thrilled.

Then Max saw us.

His eyes moved from me to Edward and back again.

For one beautiful second, he had absolutely nothing to say.

Then his expression hardened.

Claire stood beside him in a fitted white gown.

She looked beautiful.

I hated that noticing still hurt.

Max walked toward us.

“So this is your plus-one?”

“Max, this is Edward.”

Edward extended his hand.

“Congratulations.”

Max barely looked at it.

Instead, he looked Edward up and down.

Then he laughed.

Not politely.

Actually laughed.

Several nearby guests turned toward us.

“What’s funny?” I asked.

“Him?”

Max glanced around as if everyone else should have understood the joke.

“Your boyfriend?”

Claire touched his arm.

“Max.”

He ignored her.

“I don’t believe it. No one would date you. Especially someone like him.”

Heat rushed into my face.

Then came that familiar grin—the one Max always wore when he wanted cruelty to sound like humor.

“What did you do? Pay him to come?”

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

I wanted to disappear.

Edward didn’t raise his voice.

He simply smiled.

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

Max looked surprised.

“For me?”

“Especially for you.”

Edward turned toward me.

“Give me five minutes.”

Then he walked outside.

Max watched him leave and smirked.

“I knew it.”

Five minutes later, Edward returned carrying the cardboard box.

He placed it on an empty table.

“For the groom.”

Max laughed.

“You were serious.”

“Open it.”

By then, several guests were watching.

Max opened the box.

His smile disappeared.

Inside was an enormous pair of trousers.

He pulled them out.

“What is this?”

“Mine,” Edward said.

Max stared at him.

“You wore these?”

“Yes.”

Edward took the trousers back.

“I used to be much heavier.”

Max frowned.

“So?”

Edward looked at me.

“Veronica knows part of this story.”

I stared at him.

“I do?”

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

Then I remembered.

Edward had been standing near the break room. Someone offered him a slice.

He refused.

“People who look like me don’t need cake.”

At the time, I had been having a terrible week with Max.

Without thinking, I had answered him.

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

Edward’s smile had disappeared.

Then I had looked at him and said:

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

I took my cake and walked away.

I had almost forgotten the conversation.

Edward hadn’t.

“That stayed with me,” he said.

Max looked impatient.

“What exactly is the point?”

Edward folded the trousers over one arm.

“The point is that Veronica never told me what I should weigh. She never told me I’d be more valuable if my body changed.”

He paused.

“She just made me realize I’d started speaking to myself the same way someone else was speaking to her.”

The room had gone quiet.

Edward continued.

“I stopped postponing my life until I looked acceptable. Later, I changed some habits, and my body changed too.”

Max smirked.

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

“No.”

Edward’s answer came instantly.

“That is exactly what you still don’t understand.”

Max’s smile faded.

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

Claire glanced at Max.

Max gave an uncomfortable laugh.

“What does any of that have to do with me?”

Edward handed him the trousers.

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

Max shrugged.

“It does.”

Edward held his gaze.

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

Max stopped smiling.

A few minutes later, Edward asked me to step into the hallway.

His expression had changed.

“Veronica, Max was wrong about you.”

I looked at him.

“But there’s something I should have said before we came.”

“What?”

“You asked me to come because you thought showing up with a man who looks like me would prove something to Max.”

My face warmed.

“I know.”

“I agreed because I hoped you would realize it wouldn’t.”

I stared at him.

“You could have told me that before the wedding.”

“Yes.”

“Instead, you let me pretend you were my boyfriend so you could teach me a lesson.”

“You’re right.”

No excuse.

No argument.

Just that.

I walked farther down the hallway because I refused to cry where Max could see me.

Edward followed, but kept his distance.

Then I heard a small voice.

“Mom?”

I turned.

My oldest daughter was standing nearby.

I quickly wiped beneath one eye.

“Hey.”

She looked toward the reception.

“Why did Dad say nobody would date you?”

I crouched beside her.

“He was being unkind.”

She thought about that.

“Edward isn’t really your boyfriend?”

“No.”

“Then why did you say he was?”

For a moment, lying would have been easier.

Instead, I told her the truth.

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

She frowned.

“But we wanted you here.”

I had no answer.

She wrapped her arms around me.

That one sentence did more for me than anything Edward or Max had said all evening.

After she ran back into the reception, Edward was still waiting.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“I’m still angry with you.”

“You should be.”

Then Max appeared.

His confidence had returned, but it looked more fragile now.

I looked directly at him.

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

He didn’t answer.

Claire had followed him into the hallway.

Max glanced at her.

“She’s twisting this.”

Claire looked at me.

Then at him.

“You told me she stopped trying.”

“She did.”

Claire’s expression changed.

“That isn’t what I just heard.”

For the first time since Max had packed those suitcases, I wasn’t waiting for him to explain what his opinion meant about me.

Back inside, Edward began putting the old trousers back into the box.

“What are you doing with those?” I asked.

“Taking them to the donation center.”

“Good.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“I’m still mad at you.”

“Fair.”

“You owe me.”

“Also fair.”

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

He picked up the box.

“Best fake date you’ve ever had.”

“Only fake date I’ve ever had.”

“Still undefeated.”

I laughed despite myself.

Soon afterward, I gathered the girls.

As we reached the exit, Max called my name.

“So what happens with you and Edward?”

I turned.

Even now, he needed to know.

If Edward wanted me, Max could use that to measure my value.

If Edward didn’t, Max could use that too.

“You really need the answer, don’t you?”

He opened his mouth.

I walked away.

Outside, my older daughter paused beside the car and smoothed her dress.

“Mom?”

“Yeah?”

“Does this make me look weird?”

The question sounded casual.

That made it hurt more.

I could have immediately told her she looked beautiful.

Instead, I asked:

“Do you like the dress?”

She looked down.

Then she spun once and watched the skirt move around her knees.

“Yeah.”

“Then that’s the answer that matters.”

She smiled and climbed into the car.

Her little sister followed, leaving frosting on the door.

“I look sticky.”

I laughed.

“You definitely do.”

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

My reflection appeared in the dark car window.

For a moment, Max’s old question returned.

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

So I looked.

But this time, I didn’t inspect my waist.

I didn’t turn sideways.

I didn’t wonder what Max would criticize.

I didn’t wonder whether Edward would approve.

I simply looked at myself.

Then my three-year-old yelled from inside the car.

“Mom! Go!”

I smiled.

I opened the door.

And I got in.