Chapter 7: She's Mine

I got to the studio at 8:15 with my mother's sheet music in my bag and my hands steady for the first time in years. The dress was hanging in the changing room where I'd left it Sunday night. Ivory silk. The one Dante had chosen with his own hands, saying this one, because you'll look like the version of yourself you dream about. Someone had taken scissors to it. It was on the floor in ribbons, and someone had emptied a bottle of red wine over the pieces so it looked like something had been...