Hopeless Devotion ~ A Jasper Hale Story

Part 2

After the fifth dress shop—and what felt like a million opinions later—I finally dragged the girls into a quiet little boutique tucked off the main street. The chaos of Alice squealing, Rosalie critiquing, and Leah grumbling had slowed, thankfully, to something manageable. Bella and I wandered among racks of fabric swatches, fingertips brushing silks and chiffons, until something finally made me stop.

"This one," I said, holding a soft sage green swatch against my chest.

Alice tilted her head, eyes already lighting up. "Sage green? That's... unexpected. But I like it. Very—" she paused, searching for the word, "—calming."

I nodded. "Exactly. It's soft. Timeless. Everyone can wear it without feeling uncomfortable or out of place." I glanced toward Bella and Leah. "You both would look beautiful in this. And the Cullens too—Rosalie, Emmett, Carlisle, Esme. It'll tie everyone together without screaming wedding."

Leah groaned, folding her arms tighter, but I caught the smallest twitch of a smile at the corner of her mouth. Bella, predictably, lit up.

"I love it," she whispered, brushing her fingers over the fabric. "It's perfect."

Rosalie crossed her arms, pretending to be unimpressed, but her expression softened despite herself. "Fine. Sage green. You win. Everyone else can deal with it."

Alice clapped and spun in place. "Yes! Coordination! I can already see it—sage gowns, soft cream accents, lilac wildflowers—oh, it's going to be gorgeous."

I laughed, holding the swatch up once more. "See? Simple. Elegant. Nothing over the top."

Esme stepped closer, her smile warm and sincere. "It's a lovely choice, Tiffany. You have a wonderful sense for harmony."

Leah muttered something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like agreement. Bella squeezed my arm, glowing. Behind us, Alice was already pacing, hands moving as if arranging flowers only she could see.

The boutique settled into a gentle quiet after that, the earlier frenzy fading into soft murmurs and the hum of calm music. I stepped into the dressing room, my heart starting to beat a little faster despite myself.

When the curtain slid open, I froze.

The dress.

Off-the-shoulder sleeves floated like whispers against my skin, sheer and delicate. The bodice fit perfectly—structured without feeling stiff—and the tulle skirt shimmered softly, 3D flowers scattered like they'd bloomed there naturally. Threads of light caught with every small movement, subtle and breathtaking.

Bella gasped, hands flying to her mouth. "Tiff... oh my gosh. You look perfect."

Leah, who had been sitting in the corner with her arms crossed, let out a low whistle before she could stop herself. "Okay," she muttered. "Fine. You look good." Her tone was flat, but her eyes gave her away.

Alice nearly bounced across the room. "It's the dress. You're glowing. The sage green is going to pop against this—you'll look like you walked straight out of a fairytale."

Rosalie narrowed her eyes, assessing. "Finally," she said, smirking, "a dress that doesn't need twenty people to hold it together."

Esme's smile was softer, quieter. "It suits you beautifully, Tiffany. Elegant, simple... and a little magical."

I turned slightly, watching the skirt move, feeling the weight and flow of it. The moment settled deep in my chest. This wasn't just a dress. This wasn't just planning.

This was real.

Bella slipped an arm around me, voice barely above a whisper. "I'm so happy for you, Tiff."

Leah looked away, scowling. "Don't make this a thing," she muttered. "I don't do emotional."

I laughed, warmth easing the tightness in my chest. "Alright," I said, turning to the boutique attendant, "we'll take it."

Alice squealed, clapping her hands. "Wedding prep officially underway!"

By the time we stepped back onto the sidewalk, the sky had shifted into that soft, late-afternoon gray Forks wore so well. The bags felt heavier now—not just with fabric and plans, but with meaning.

The chaos had quieted. The decisions were made.

And for the first time since we'd started planning, I felt something settle instead of spiral.

Later that evening, after the others had scattered and the house finally went quiet, I found Jasper waiting for me on the porch. He looked up when he heard the door open, eyes soft, curious—but he didn't ask.

Not right away.

I sat beside him, leaning into his shoulder, the weight of the day finally catching up to me.

"Dress?" he asked gently.

I smiled into the collar of his jacket. "Found it."

He exhaled like he'd been holding his breath all day. "Good."

We sat there in silence for a moment, listening to the trees, the world calm again.

"It's getting real," I murmured.

Jasper's arm tightened around me, steady and sure. "Yeah," he said quietly. "But we're ready."

And for the first time, I believed that completely.