Fake dating my brother's best friend

Emma's Pov

I stood in front of Sophie’s full-length mirror, tugging at the hem of my emerald green blouse for the tenth time. The color was supposed to make me feel confident—bold, even—but tonight it just felt like armor I wasn’t sure I could carry. Two weeks had passed since the bridal shower disaster, and the viral videos had finally slowed to a trickle. Still, every notification on my newly reinstalled social media apps made my stomach twist. Comments calling me “demanding,” “unstable,” or worse still haunted my quiet moments.

“You look amazing,” Sophie said from the doorway, leaning against the frame with a glass of wine in hand. “Green is your power color. And it’s just Ethan’s place—low-key, good food, people who actually love you. No pressure.”

I forced a smile, but my hands wouldn’t stop fidgeting with the silver necklace I’d chosen to replace the one Ryan had given me. “Low-key until it isn’t. Ethan promised it would be small. Family, a few close friends. But what if someone brings up the shower? What if they look at me like I’m the crazy ex?”

Sophie set her wine down and crossed the room, pulling me into a quick hug. Her vanilla scent was familiar and comforting. “Then you hold your head high. You didn’t cheat. You didn’t lie for a year. Ryan did. Tonight is about Ethan turning thirty-two, not your ex’s ego. You’ve got this.”

I nodded, repeating her words like a mantra as I grabbed my purse. The drive to Ethan’s new apartment downtown felt both too short and endless. Streetlights blurred past, and I drummed my fingers on my knee, replaying memories of family dinners before everything imploded. Ethan had always been the steady one—our parents’ divorce had hit him harder in some ways, but he’d channeled it into building his construction business. He deserved a nice birthday without my drama overshadowing it.

Ethan’s building had a sleek lobby with marble floors that clicked under my heels. I took the elevator up, heart beating faster with each floor. When the doors opened, I could already hear laughter spilling from his door at the end of the hall. I paused outside, smoothing my blouse one last time, then knocked.

Ethan answered almost immediately, his face lighting up with that big-brother grin that always made me feel safer. He pulled me into a tight hug, his cedarwood cologne wrapping around me. “You came. I’m glad, Em. Really.”

“Happy birthday,” I said, squeezing him back before stepping inside. The apartment smelled like garlic bread and herbs—Ethan had clearly gone all out with catering. String lights hung across the living room, casting a warm glow over the dozen or so guests mingling with drinks in hand. A long table was set with plates and bottles of wine. It looked... normal. Safe.

Sophie had arrived earlier and waved from across the room, chatting with one of Ethan’s college buddies. A few cousins were there, plus some business associates. I spotted Lucas Bennett near the kitchen island, pouring himself a drink. Ethan’s best friend since they were kids, Lucas was the quiet, successful type—always in tailored shirts, always observing more than he spoke. We’d spent years trading sarcastic jabs at family gatherings, but tonight his presence felt steady rather than annoying. He caught my eye and gave a small nod, almost like he knew how hard this was for me.

I made my way through greetings, accepting hugs and “how are you holding up?” questions with practiced smiles. “Better every day,” I lied to my aunt, who patted my arm sympathetically. Inside, my nerves were frayed wire. Every laugh felt too loud, every glance too probing. I kept one eye on the door, half-expecting disaster.

Ethan pulled me aside after I’d grabbed a glass of red wine. “You really do look good. Proud of you for showing up.” His voice dropped. “Ryan texted yesterday about some business overlap on that new development project. I told him not to come, but... work stuff. I made it clear it’s my night.”

I tensed but nodded. “It’s fine. I can handle it if he shows. Briefly.”

We joined the group, and for a while, it worked. Conversation flowed around renovations, travel stories, and light teasing about Ethan’s terrible cooking skills. Lucas ended up next to me at one point, handing me a fresh napkin when I spilled a drop of wine.

“Nice save,” I said, trying for witty. “Didn’t know you moonlighted as a butler.”

His mouth quirked in that half-smile I remembered from years of barbecues. “Only for people who look like they’re one awkward question away from bolting. You okay, Emma?”

The genuine concern in his deep voice caught me off guard. Lucas had always been Ethan’s reliable shadow—successful in business, reserved in personal matters. We’d never been close, mostly because I teased him about being too serious and he’d fire back about my “chaos energy.” Tonight, though, his calm felt like an anchor.

“I’m managing,” I replied honestly, swirling my wine. “One dinner at a time.”

He nodded, not pushing. “Good. Ethan’s been worried. We both have.”

Before I could respond, the door opened again. Ethan’s voice boomed a welcome, but my blood ran cold as I turned.

Ryan stepped inside, looking effortlessly put-together in a crisp button-down and slacks, his hair styled just so. And on his arm—Sarah. She wore a sleek black dress, her hand resting possessively on his bicep. They smiled at Ethan like this was completely normal.

The room didn’t exactly go silent, but the energy shifted. Conversations stuttered. Eyes flicked toward me. My grip tightened on my wine glass until I thought the stem might snap.

“What is he doing here?” I whispered under my breath, but Lucas heard.

Ethan looked apologetic as he approached them, clapping Ryan on the shoulder stiffly. “Didn’t expect you tonight, man. Business talk could’ve waited.”

Ryan shrugged, his charming smile sliding into place—the same one that had won over everyone at the shower. “Couldn’t miss your birthday, Ethan. Plus, the project deadline’s tight. Brought Sarah along—she’s been helping with the marketing angles.”

Sarah offered a small wave, her eyes avoiding mine. The same eyes that had looked at me with pity that awful day.

I felt exposed, raw. My cheeks burned as memories flooded back: Ryan’s hands on her face, his calm voice blaming me in front of strangers. Now here they were, parading their new reality at my brother’s dinner like I didn’t exist. Like my heartbreak was yesterday’s news.

Sophie materialized at my side, whispering, “We can leave. Say you’re not feeling well.”

I shook my head, forcing my spine straight. “No. I’m not running. Not anymore.”

Dinner was announced, and we moved to the table. Seats had been arranged casually, but somehow Ryan and Sarah ended up across from me. I sat between Ethan and Lucas, grateful for the buffer. Plates of roasted chicken, vegetables, and pasta were passed around. Laughter tried to resume, but it felt strained, like everyone was walking on eggshells.

Ryan caught my eye midway through the meal. “Emma. You look well. Glad you could make it.”

The audacity. I stabbed a piece of chicken harder than necessary. “Couldn’t miss my brother’s birthday.”

Sarah shifted uncomfortably, focusing on her plate. Conversations picked up in pockets—work talk, travel plans—but I felt the weight of unspoken questions. A cousin asked me about wedding plans before catching herself and turning bright red. “Sorry, I mean...”

“It’s fine,” I said tightly, taking a long sip of wine. The liquid warmed my throat but did nothing for the knot in my stomach.

Ryan leaned forward, voice carrying just enough. “These things happen. Breakups are hard, but life moves on. Sarah and I are exploring what’s next. No hard feelings, right, Em?”

Hard feelings? I wanted to throw my plate at him. The casual way he said it, like my four years of love were a minor inconvenience. The table quieted again. Phones stayed in pockets, but I could feel the tension building, the potential for another viral moment.

Lucas’s hand brushed mine under the table—accidental, I thought, but it steadied me. His voice was low when he spoke. “Not the time or place, Ryan.”

Ryan raised an eyebrow, that victim smile creeping back. “Just being honest. Emma wanted everything perfect. The big wedding, the future mapped out. Sometimes that pressure... well, you know.”

My vision tunneled. The humiliation from the shower crashed back—the recordings, the comments calling me demanding, the way the world had sided with his narrative. Here he was, rewriting it again in front of people who mattered. Sarah placed a hand on his arm, a silent show of support that made bile rise in my throat.

I set my fork down with a clink, my heart pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears. Blood rushed to my face. Everyone was watching. Ethan looked ready to intervene. Lucas’s posture had gone rigid beside me.

The words tumbled out before I could stop them, impulsive and desperate, born from weeks of pain and the need to reclaim some control.

“Actually...” My voice wavered but grew stronger. I glanced around the table, landing briefly on Lucas before the lie solidified. “I’m seeing someone.”

The table went dead silent. Forks paused mid-air. Ryan’s charming mask cracked for a split second, surprise flashing in his eyes.

I swallowed hard, the cliff edge rushing up. What had I just done?