(Sabrina's POV)
I've changed outfits three times.
The emerald dress Sophia and I picked out is hanging on the back of my bedroom door. I've been staring at it for ten minutes, trying to convince myself it's the right choice.
"Mom." Jake appears in the doorway, already dressed in his button-up shirt and khakis. He looks so grown up it makes my chest hurt. "We're going to be late."
"We have forty-five minutes."
"Yeah, but traffic. And you still need to do your hair. And put on shoes. And you're standing there staring into space like you saw a ghost and froze up."
He's not wrong.
I take the dress off the hanger and put it on for the fourth time. It fits the same way it did the other three times—perfectly. But something still feels off.
Not the dress.
Me.
Jake sits on the edge of my
