“Hey.”
She looked toward the reception.
“Why did Dad say nobody would date you?”
I crouched beside her.
“He was being unkind.”
She thought for a moment.
“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 hugged me.
That one sentence did more for me than anything Edward or Max had said all evening.
After she ran back to 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 stared 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 into the box.
“What are you doing with them?” 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 measure my value with that.
If he didn’t, Max could measure 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 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 her 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, opened the door, and got in.
