Page 93 of All of Me

“In July. Ten weeks from now.”

Her eyes widen slightly, but she quickly masks her surprise. “We’ll find you something perfect. Do you have a particular style in mind?”

I shake my head, laughing nervously. “Not really. I just want something… timeless but unique, I guess? And it would be amazing if it didn’t need a ton of alterations.”

Jasmine nods thoughtfully. “Got it. Why don’t we start with a few different options? You can tell me what feels right once you see yourself in them, and then we can narrow it down.” She gestures toward a plush velvet chair near a floor-length mirror. “Make yourself comfortable while I pull a few styles.”

I settle into the chair, my heart thudding in anticipation as she moves gracefully through the racks, her fingers brushing over fabric with practiced ease. The boutique is quiet except for the soft hum of classical music playing in the background and the occasional rustle of fabric.

Jasmine returns with an armful of gowns, each one more stunning than the last. She hangs them on a rack beside me and picks one out with care.

“This one might be a good starting point,” she says, holding up an ivory dress with intricate lace detailing. The back features a butterfly design so delicate it looks as though it might take flight. Tiny buttons run up the center, adding an air of elegance to the whimsical design. “It’s one of my favorites, and we just got it in.”

My breath catches. It’s beautiful.

She leads me to the dressing room, where the walls are lined with soft cream wallpaper and a crystal chandelier hangs overhead. I carefully step into the dress, the fabric cool against my skin. My fingers tremble as I fasten the last button, and when I turn to face the mirror, I feel like I’ve stepped into someone else’s life.

The dress fits like it was made for me. The lace hugs my shoulders and dips into a modest V-neckline. The skirt flows effortlessly around me, soft and light as air, but it’s the back—the butterfly lace and the delicate row of buttons—that steals my breath.

Tears sting the corners of my eyes. I’m not a crier, but in this moment, I feel overwhelmed. This is it. This is the dress I’ll marry Owen in.

When I step out of the dressing room, Jasmine clasps her hands together, her smile lighting up the room. “Oh, honey, that’s the one. You can see it in your face.”

I nod, unable to find the words. The emotion in my chest feels too big to put into sentences.

Jasmine gently places a hand on my arm. “Take your time. Soak it in. This is your moment.”

I turn back to the mirror, running my fingers over the lace. It feels surreal, like stepping into a dream I couldn’t imagine until now.

After a few deep breaths, I pull out my phone and snap some photos. The lighting in the boutique is perfect, and I capture every detail—the butterfly lace, the flow of the skirt, the way the dress seems to glow against my skin.

I open my group chat with Taylor and Brooke and type out a quick message:

Me:

Guess what I just did!

I attach the photos and hit send. It doesn’t take long for my phone to buzz with their replies.

Taylor:

Callie! That dress is stunning! You’re glowing!

Brooke:

Wait—what?! Why didn’t you tell us? We would’ve gone with you!

I laugh softly, typing back: It was spur-of-the-moment! I’ll try it on for you guys again—I promise.

Jasmine helps me out of the dress, carefully hanging it up before placing it in a garment bag. As I pay, she smiles warmly. “One and done! You made a beautiful choice. It’s going to be perfect.”

I leave the boutique with the dress draped over my arm and a sense of joy settling in my chest. The day started off ordinary, but now it feels extraordinary. I can’t wait to walk down the aisle—to Owen, to our future—in this dress.

Planning a wedding in two months is a whirlwind. Planning a wedding in two months while juggling two kids, a fiancée who works long hours, and an ex-husband who seems to think co-parenting is optional? That’s chaos. After he and Katie split up, I guess Adam decided he didn’t want to stay in the house he’d been in and now he’s moved somewhere over two hours away. While I would normally sayGood riddance,Sara has been asking for her dad and it breaks my heart because I know she misses him.

Adam’s been dodging his weekends with the girls for weeks now. Every time I ask for a reason, his excuses feel thinner and thinner. This morning, he called to reschedule again, and I finally pushed back.

“You’ve missed three weekends in a row, Adam,” I said, my voice tight with frustration. “Sara’s been asking for you. You can’t keep doing this.”

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