Emma
"Stop fidgeting," I told my reflection. "It's just paperwork. Just a courthouse. Just..."
My fingers tangled in my hair again, undoing the careful braid I'd been working on for the past twenty minutes. White flowers scattered across my vanity like fallen stars.
The simple white dress hanging on my closet door caught the morning light. It wasn't designer like the one Harrison had chosen, but something about its clean lines and subtle lace felt more me. I'd found it yesterday at a small boutique, the kind I used to shop at before everything fell apart.
"Need backup?" Mom appeared in my doorway, already dressed for her afternoon art classes. Paint stains added character to her well-worn blazer – the same one she'd worn to her first teaching job after we lost everything. She'd turned
