Fallon
The soft chime of the boutique’s doorbell greeted me as I stepped inside, the scent of fresh roses and vanilla filling the air. Sunlight streamed through floor-to-ceiling windows, casting a warm glow over racks of satin, lace, and tulle.
I felt the weight of it immediately—this was the moment. The one every little girl supposedly dreams of. Only, my dream had never looked like this.
“Miss Prescott,” the sales associate greeted with a bright smile. “Welcome to Maison Leclerc. We’re honored to help you find your dress today.”
I managed a polite nod, my palms already clammy.
The only person more excited than the boutique staff was, of course, her.
Mrs. Callahan—Evelyn—floated in like she owned the place, her eyes twinkling as they met mine. “Fallon, darling! I just know today is
