Thirty-Three
thirty-three
BEAUTIFUL - CHRISTINA AGUILERA
CALLIE - MAY 17, 2014
N ow that we’ve decided to get married in July, it is crunch time for me to find a dress in ten weeks. As I exit my shift at Brooked & Brewed, a wild idea strikes me. There’s a small boutique a few towns over that I’ve had my eye on for a while, this is my chance to go check out.
Owen is watching the kids, and Brooke let me leave early since today was slow. She is training a new summertime helper, a young college student named Anna, and we had too many cooks in the kitchen . Not that I could actually take any credit for the amazing baked goods that Brooked & Brewed has become well-known for.
I send Owen a quick text to let him know I have errands to run, but don’t tell him exactly what I will be doing. I am sure he will figure it out, considering there’s really only one wedding plan he isn’t allowed to be involved in. He’s perceptive enough to see right through me anyway. My poker face is shit when it comes to that man.
I pull into the boutique’s gravel parking lot, the van’s engine rumbling to a stop, and I park under a shaded tree. My fingers hover over the steering wheel as I glance toward the shop. Its front window is framed with delicate lace curtains, and the name Adore Me is painted in elegant script on the glass. A small wooden sign hangs from the door, swinging gently in the breeze: Open.
The bell above the door chimes softly when I push it open. The shop smells of lavender and vanilla. It’s a small, cozy boutique with racks of ivory, blush, and champagne gowns lining the walls. They even have a line of black and red dresses that hang along the back wall. As much as I love the idea of a more alternative color for my own wedding dress, I haven’t ruled out the idea of wearing white on my wedding day, even though I’m far from a virginal bride.
The thought makes me chuckle to myself as a woman with black hair and tight, kinky curls looks up from behind the counter. She’s absolutely stunning and exudes a confidence that tells me she owns the place. Her big smile is warm and inviting.
“Hi there! Welcome to Adore Me. I’m Jasmine. Is there something special I can help you with today?”
I shift nervously, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “Um, yeah. I’m actually looking for a wedding dress.” The words feel foreign on my tongue, as if saying them makes this whole thing even more real.
Jasmine’s smile brightens. “Congratulations! When’s the big day?”
“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 say Good 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.”
“Look, I’ve been busy,” he replied, his tone defensive. “I just moved into the new place, and things have been hectic.”
“What’s so hectic that you can’t see your kids?” I shot back, unable to hide the edge in my voice.
There’s a pause, and then he sighs. “I’ve been seeing someone. Her name’s Danielle. Things are... serious.”
I freeze, the phone pressed to my ear. “Serious?” I repeat, my voice sharp. “Serious enough that you can’t bother to see your daughters? You haven’t seen them since you and Katie broke up! What, were you just trying to find another woman to take care of them because you’re incapable of handling them on your own?”
“That’s not what I meant—” he starts, but I cut him off.
“Do you even hear yourself? You’ve missed three weekends, Adam. Three. Sara’s been asking for you every single day, and your excuse is that you’ve got a new girlfriend? Are you kidding me?”
His sigh is audible, and I can picture him pinching the bridge of his nose like he always does when he’s cornered. “I’m trying, Callie. Things have been hectic.”
“Hectic?” The word bursts out of me like a laugh, sharp and bitter. “You don’t think my life is hectic? I’m raising two kids, planning a wedding–”
“You’re WHAT?!” he all but roars.
“Planning. A. Wedding. You. Fucking. Asshole,” I seethe. “And somehow, I still make time to do your job because you can’t be bothered! God, I hope you and Danielle are at least using protection, because you already have two kids, and another on the way, that you’re not fucking present for.”
The words hang heavy in the air. There’s silence on the other end, and for a moment I think he’s hung up.
“It’s not my fault Katie took off,” he says finally, his voice low and defensive. “I can’t find her, Callie. She won’t answer my calls, my texts—nothing.”
Guilt flickers in my chest for a moment, but it’s short-lived.
“And whose fault is that, Adam? Katie didn’t just wake up one day and decide to leave. She was running from something. YOU! Maybe you should think about why the women you impregnate want to flee. What does that say about you?”
“That’s not fair,” he snaps. “I didn’t ask for her to leave.”
“No, but you sure as hell didn’t give her a reason to stay,” I fire back, my voice trembling with anger. “And now you’re bailing on Sara and Ruby. Do you even realize that? Now you’re with another new woman that you’re probably going to knock up and push away too!”
“Danielle can’t have kids,” he says abruptly, his tone bitter.
The statement knocks the wind out of me, and I can’t think of anything to say. My anger wars with a strange, unsettling sadness. Did he choose someone who couldn’t have kids so he wouldn’t have to feel guilty about ignoring his own? As fucked up as that is, it wouldn’t surprise me. Heaven forbid a guy like Adam just get a fucking vasectomy. Then he can screw around with anyone he wants and not worry about having twenty-seven baby mamas.
“I don’t even know what to say to that,” I whisper finally, my voice shaking.
“Don’t,” he mutters. “Just... don’t.”
The line goes dead before I can respond. I’m left standing there, the phone clutched in my hand, my heart pounding in my chest.
The thought of it makes my stomach churn as I sit at the kitchen table, staring at the growing list of wedding tasks. Venues, catering, flowers, music—it all blurs together in my mind like a tangled web I can’t unravel.
“Mommy?” Sara’s small voice pulls me back to the present, and I look up to see her holding out a crinkled piece of paper covered in wobbly crayon scribbles. She bounces on her toes, waving it eagerly. “Look it!”
I take the paper from her tiny hands, forcing a smile even as my chest tightens. “Did you make this for me?”
She nods, beaming. “Yeah!”
“It’s beautiful, sweet girl,” I murmur, brushing a stray curl from her face before pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Thank you.”
Sara giggles, climbing into my lap with a little grunt, her small arms wrapping around me as she tucks her head against my chest. She’s warm, soft, completely unaware of the weight pressing down on me. And I don’t want her to be.
This should be a happy time—a celebration of love and family. But every time I start to feel even a flicker of excitement about the wedding, something drags me back down.
Usually, it’s Adam.
He’s been dodging his weekends with the girls for weeks now, and when I found out he’s been spending that time with his new girlfriend, it took everything in me not to throw something.
Danielle. Another new girlfriend. Another distraction from the responsibilities he keeps running from. I don’t know much about her, other than the fact that she’s young and works at the same bar Adam frequents. According to Taylor, who saw them together, she doesn’t seem particularly interested in kids.
Which is just great, considering Adam already has two and another on the way.
“Mommy?” Sara’s voice breaks through my thoughts again. Her little hand pats my arm, her head tilting up to look at me.
I blink, realizing I’ve been staring at her drawing without really seeing it.
“Sorry, baby,” I whisper, smoothing my hand over her soft curls. “Mommy’s just thinking.”
She studies me with a seriousness that’s rare for someone so little, her fingers curling into my shirt like she knows something is wrong—even if she doesn’t understand why. “Mommy okay?”
My throat tightens.
I want to tell her yes, to reassure her with something light and easy, but the words get stuck. Because I don’t know if I am okay.
Instead, I force a smile. “Yeah, baby,” I murmur. “Mommy’s okay.”
She stares for another second, as if deciding whether to believe me, then suddenly squirms to get down. “Play!”
I set her on her feet, and she toddles off toward the living room, already lost in whatever has caught her attention next.
I exhale, pressing a hand to my forehead.
I wish I could move on that easily.
I glance at the list on the table, then at my phone, where Adam’s name sits in my call log from earlier. I’d tried to talk to him about his missed weekends, about how much Sara misses him, and how I can’t keep rearranging my life to cover for his absence. But as usual, he’d brushed me off, promising to “make it up to her” without offering any specifics.
I set the phone down with a frustrated sigh. How do I explain to Sara and Ruby why their dad keeps choosing everything else over them? How do I make peace with the fact that no matter how hard I try, I can’t shield them from this?
The sound of the front door opening pulls me from my thoughts, and Owen steps inside, his presence as steadying as ever. He sets his lunchbox on the counter, his brow furrowing when he sees me.
“You okay?” he asks, crossing the room to press a kiss to my temple.
I nod, but the tears prickling at the corners of my eyes betray me. “It’s just… everything,” I admit, gesturing to the list on the table. “The wedding, the girls, Adam…”
Owen pulls out a chair and sits beside me, taking my hand in his. “Talk to me,” he says gently.
I hesitate, the words stuck in my throat, but when I look into his eyes, the dam breaks. “I’m worried about Sara and Ruby,” I confess, my voice trembling. “Adam’s barely around, and when he is, it feels like he’s just going through the motions. And now he’s got this new girlfriend…”
Owen’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t interrupt. He listens, his thumb brushing over my knuckles in a steady rhythm that calms me enough to keep talking.
“I don’t want to be that mom who bad mouths their dad,” I say, my voice breaking. “But how do I explain to them why he keeps letting them down? How do I make them understand that it’s not their fault?”
Owen exhales slowly, his grip on my hand tightening like he’s anchoring both of us. “If Adam’s not stepping up, then I will.” he says, his voice firm but gentle. “We’ll figure it out together. I already love those girls like they’re my own.”
His words wrap around me like a lifeline, steadying me when everything else feels uncertain. The weight pressing on my chest starts to lift, and I can finally draw a full breath.
“Thank you,” I whisper, leaning into him, letting his strength become mine.
“We’re a team,” he reminds me, his voice unwavering. “Whatever comes our way, we’ll handle it. Together.”
With his warmth and conviction surrounding me, I believe him. I believe in us.