“Especially for you.”
Edward turned to me and squeezed my hand once. “Give me five minutes.”
And then he walked out of the ballroom.
Part Six: What Was in the Box
Max watched him go with his eyebrows raised.
“Seriously, Veronica?” He shook his head, smiling. “He’s leaving already?”
I said nothing.
“I knew it.”
Claire looked at him. “Knew what?”
“Oh, come on, babe. Look at the guy.” He waved toward the door Edward had just walked through. Then he waved toward me. Just a small flick of the wrist that said everything.
Claire’s expression shifted slightly. I couldn’t read it. I didn’t want to know what she was thinking.
Those five minutes were the longest of my life. I stood there clutching a glass of champagne I hadn’t touched while Max made small talk with his groomsmen and occasionally glanced my way with a smug little smile.
Then the doors opened, and Edward came back in, carrying the cardboard box from his car.
He walked straight across the room and set it down on the nearest empty table.
“For the groom.”
Max laughed again. “You weren’t kidding.”
“Open it.”
By now, a small crowd had gathered. Guests who had been pretending not to watch were openly watching. A couple of Max’s groomsmen drifted closer.
Max pulled at the tape and tore open the flaps.
His smile disappeared.
He reached inside and slowly lifted out an enormous pair of trousers. Gray dress pants, with a waist so wide they hung from his hands like a curtain.
He stared at them.
“What the hell is this?”
“Mine,” Edward said.
Max looked at Edward. Then at the pants. Then back at Edward’s trim waist and broad shoulders.
“Those?“
“Those.”
I was staring too. I couldn’t help it.
Edward gently took the trousers out of Max’s hands and held them up.
“I used to wear these,” he said. “About three years ago, I was a lot heavier.”
Max gave a confused laugh. “Okay. So?”
Edward looked at me.
“Veronica knows.”
I frowned. “I do?”
“About three years ago, before we were really friends, somebody brought a birthday cake into the office. Remember?”
I did. Barely.
It was someone’s fortieth. Chocolate cake with raspberry filling, sitting on the break room counter. Edward had been standing nearby while everyone grabbed slices, and when someone offered him one, he shook his head and said, with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, “People who look like me don’t need cake.”
I’d been having a terrible week with Max. One of many. That morning, Max had watched me butter a piece of toast and said, “Are you sure you need that?”
So when Edward said it, the words came out of my mouth before I could stop them.
“Funny. My husband talks about me like that.”
Edward’s smile had vanished.
And I remembered what I said next, too.
“I hate hearing it from him. I don’t like hearing it from you either.”
At the time, Edward had just stared at me without saying anything. I’d felt embarrassed, like I’d said too much to someone I barely knew. So I’d grabbed my slice of cake and gone back to my desk, and I’d never thought about it again.
Now he stood in the middle of my ex-husband’s wedding reception, holding those enormous trousers.
“You remember,” he said softly.
“Yeah,” I whispered.
“That stuck with me.”
Max shifted impatiently. “Okay. What exactly is the point of all this?”
For illustrative purposes only
Part Seven: The Part Nobody Expected
“The point,” Edward said, “is that Veronica never told me what I should weigh.”
He folded the trousers over his arm.
“She didn’t tell me I’d be worth more if I looked different. She didn’t give me a diet or a gym schedule. She just made me realize that I’d started talking to myself the exact same way someone was talking to her. And I didn’t like how it sounded when I heard it out loud.”
I could feel the whole room listening. I wished they weren’t.
Edward kept going, calm and steady.
“So I stopped waiting to start living until I looked ‘acceptable.’ I started eating the cake when I wanted cake. I started walking at lunch because it cleared my head, not because I was punishing myself. Eventually, I changed some habits. And yeah, my body changed too.”
Max smirked. “Great. So Veronica inspired you to get in shape. Good for you.”
“No.” Edward’s answer came fast and firm. “That’s exactly the part you don’t understand.”
Max’s smile slipped.
“She didn’t fix me,” Edward said. “There was nothing about me that needed fixing before I deserved to enjoy my own life. That’s what she gave me. Not a new body. Permission.”
Claire glanced at Max. Then she glanced at me.
Max let out an uncomfortable laugh. “Touching. Really. But what does 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.
The silence stretched. Somewhere behind us, a waiter’s tray clinked.
Then Edward turned to me, and the warmth in his face changed into something more serious.
“Can we talk somewhere private?”
