Fake dating my brother's best friend

Emma's Pov

“I still can’t believe you’re actually getting married in two weeks!” Sophie squealed, clinking her champagne flute against mine with a grin that lit up her entire face.

“To Ryan Carter, the guy who once drove four hours in a snowstorm just to bring you soup when you had the flu. You two are literally goals, Em.”

I laughed, the sound bubbling up easily as I leaned against the terrace railing at the Willow Creek Country Club. The late afternoon sun warmed my bare shoulders through the soft lavender fabric of my dress, and the air smelled like roses and fresh prosecco. “I know, right? Four years ago I thought I was just going on a casual coffee date. Now here we are,prosecco fountain and all. I keep pinching myself.”

Sophie rolled her eyes playfully. “Pinch harder. You deserve this. After everything with your parents’ divorce, you built something real. Stable. The kind of love that doesn’t fall apart.”

Her words wrapped around me like a warm blanket. That was exactly what I had wanted,stability. No more slammed doors or nights wondering if Dad would come home. Ryan was my safe harbor. Dependable. Charming. The man who remembered my coffee order and talked about our future kids like they were already real.

I took another sip, the bubbles tickling my nose. “I just want today to be perfect. No drama, no stress. Just celebrating with the people who matter.” I scanned the crowded terrace and main hall, where pastel balloons swayed and laughter mixed with the clink of glasses. My heart felt full, light, ready. “Have you seen Ryan? I wanted to thank him for helping set this up. Margaret said he might be in one of the private lounges making a quick work call.”

Sophie waved a hand, already reaching for a cucumber sandwich. “Probably hiding from all the wedding talk. Go find your man. I’ll guard the fountain.”

I smiled and slipped away from the group, my heels clicking softly on the stone path before transitioning to carpet inside. The murmurs of congratulations followed me,cousins, friends, even a couple of Ryan’s coworkers. I exchanged quick hugs, my cheeks aching from smiling so much. This was it. My moment. The future I had planned down to the last detail.

The hallway to the private rooms was quieter, cooler. I pushed open the first door,empty. The second too. The third was ajar, soft voices drifting out like a secret.

I paused, hand on the knob, a small smile playing on my lips. There he was. My Ryan.

But the words stopped me cold.

“I..I ...can’t keep doing this much longer, babe. The wedding’s in two weeks.”

My stomach dropped.

*Babe?*

A woman’s voice answered, low and intimate, the kind of tone reserved for late nights and locked doors. “You said you’d handle it. You promised me you’d tell her before the honeymoon.”

My fingers tightened on the wood until it creaked. I knew that voice.

Sarah. Ryan’s coworker. The one who laughed a little too loudly at his jokes during team happy hours. The one whose name had popped up on his phone more than once when he “forgot” to silence it.

I didn’t want to, but I pushed the door open anyway. The scene hit me like a physical blow.

Ryan stood with his back partially to me, his hands cupping Sarah’s face the way he used to cup mine,gentle, possessive. He kissed her deeply, urgently, like he couldn’t get enough. Her fingers twisted in his dark hair, her body arched into his. A half-empty glass of whiskey sat forgotten on the side table, the ice melting.

For a second, everything went silent except the roar of blood in my ears. My chest tightened so hard I thought my ribs might crack. This wasn’t happening. Not today. Not *him*.

“Ryan,” I choked out. My voice cracked on his name.

They jerked apart like guilty teenagers. Sarah’s eyes flew wide, her lipstick smeared across her mouth. Ryan spun around, his face draining of color beneath the tan he’d gotten on our last beach weekend.

“Emma…” He stepped forward, hands raised placatingly. “It’s not what it looks like.”

The words were so absurd, so insultingly cliché, that a harsh laugh escaped me before I could stop it. Tears stung my eyes, hot and immediate.

“Not what it looks like? You’re kissing her, Ryan. At my bridal shower. Two weeks before our wedding.”

Sarah smoothed her dress, her gaze darting to the floor. “I should go.”

“No,” I snapped, my voice sharper than I’d ever heard it. My hands were shaking, but I clenched them into fists at my sides. “Stay. Both of you. Explain how long this has been going on while I was picking out wedding bands and planning our honeymoon.”

Ryan ran a hand through his hair,the same gesture he made during stressful presentations or when traffic made him late. “Emma, please. Let’s not do this here. We can talk privately later.”

“Privately?” My voice rose, echoing off the walls. “Like the private way you were just mauling each other? How long, Ryan? Tell me.”

Sarah hesitated, then muttered, “Almost a year.”

The floor seemed to vanish beneath my feet. A year. Three hundred and sixty-five days of me planning our life while he... what? Sneaked texts? Met her during “late meetings”? I thought back to every canceled dinner, every time he’d been “too tired” for intimacy, every vague excuse. Nausea rolled through me.

“You bastard,” I whispered. The tears spilled over now, tracking down my cheeks. I wiped at them furiously, but more came. My beautiful lavender dress suddenly felt like a costume. The bracelet on my wrist,his anniversary gift,burned against my skin.

Ryan’s expression shifted from shock to something defensive, almost annoyed. “Emma, listen. Things have been strained. You’re always so focused on making everything perfect,the wedding, the house, the future. I felt pushed aside. Sarah was just... there. She understands the pressure I’m under at work.”

“Pushed aside?” I stared at him, my heart shattering into pieces so small I didn’t think they’d ever fit back together. “I gave up a better job offer in Seattle because you said you didn’t want to leave your firm. I stayed up until 2 a.m. helping you prep for that big pitch. I ignored every little doubt because I believed in *us*. And you repay me with this?”

Footsteps sounded in the hallway. Voices. Sophie calling my name. Guests were gathering, drawn by the raised voices. I could see phones in hands, screens glowing. My stomach twisted tighter.

“Emma, lower your voice,” Ryan hissed, stepping closer. His cologne,the one I used to love,now turned my stomach. “People are watching.”

“Let them watch!” I shouted, the dam fully broken. Sobs choked my words. “Let the whole world see what kind of man I almost married!”

The door swung wider. Flashes went off. Murmurs turned into gasps. Sophie pushed through, her face pale with horror. “Emma... oh my God.”

Ryan turned toward the growing crowd, his charming mask snapping back into place with sickening speed. “Everyone, this is a misunderstanding. Emma’s been under enormous stress planning the wedding. She’s been pushing me away for months, making me feel like I could never be enough. I slipped up. I’m sorry, Em. We can fix this.”

His words landed like knives in my back. *Pushing him away?* I replayed every loving gesture, every sacrifice, and felt bile rise in my throat. The humiliation burned hotter than the pain. Phones recorded everything,my tear-streaked face, my trembling hands, Ryan’s calm, reasonable tone that made me sound like the unstable one.

“You’re blaming *me*?” I stepped forward, voice breaking. “I loved you. I trusted you with every part of me. I planned our forever while you were with her for a *year*.”

Sarah slipped past us, head down. Ryan’s sister stood frozen near the door, hand over her mouth. My cousin looked away, embarrassed. Someone whispered, “This is going to be everywhere.”

I backed away, my heel catching on the carpet edge. I stumbled, and Ryan reached out automatically. I slapped his hand away, the sting blooming across my palm. “Don’t you dare touch me. We’re done. The wedding is off. Everything is off.”

The room spun. I turned and fled down the hallway, bursting onto the terrace. The prosecco fountain bubbled cheerfully, mocking me with its joy. I collapsed onto a stone bench near the rose bushes, my chest heaving with sobs that hurt all the way down to my bones.

Sophie was right behind me, her arm wrapping around my shoulders. “Emma, honey, breathe. I’m here. I’m so, so sorry. I had no idea...”

I leaned into her, the scent of her vanilla perfume grounding me just enough to keep from falling apart completely. My fingers found the bracelet. I yanked it off, the clasp snapping painfully, and hurled it into the bushes. “A year, Soph. While I was dreaming about our life, he was living another one.”

My phone buzzed violently in my clutch,texts, calls, social media notifications already exploding. I didn’t look. I couldn’t.

Ryan appeared at the terrace doors, flanked by a couple of his friends. His face was a careful mix of regret and irritation as he approached slowly. The crowd followed at a distance, phones still up like weapons.

“Emma, come on,” he said, voice low but carrying. “Don’t throw away four years over one mistake. You’ve been so distant, always nagging about details and expectations. I felt trapped. Sarah gets me. She doesn’t demand the fairy tale every second.”

Each word carved deeper into the wound. I stood on shaky legs, wiping my face. Mascara stained my fingers black. The sun was setting now, painting everything in soft pinks and oranges that felt cruelly beautiful.

“I want you gone,” I said, my voice steadier than my knees. “From my life. From my future. From everything I thought we had.”

He shook his head, that familiar sad smile tugging at his lips—the one that had once made my heart skip. “You’ll regret this, Em. You need me. Who else is going to put up with your issues?”

Sophie stepped between us protectively. “Ryan, leave. Now.”

He lingered, eyes scanning the growing audience as if calculating damage control. Then he shrugged and walked away, Sarah waiting near the exit like a shadow.

I sank back onto the bench, the world tilting. The worst day of my life, and it wasn’t even over. The videos would spread. The pity. The whispers. How would I tell Ethan? How would I face anyone?

Ryan’s final accusation echoed in my head, louder than the fading laughter around me: *You pushed me away.*

I closed my eyes, the tears still falling, and wondered how the future I had built so carefully could crumble in a single afternoon.