Virgin Dot Com Novel

[Jasmine's POV] Late July, and planning begins in earnest. Small ceremony, family only-that's the directive I repeat like a mantra when my brain threatens to spiral into Pinterest-perfect expectations. Nora as maid of honor. Leo giving me away. The girls as flower girls. Twenty guests maximum, each one carefully chosen. The guest list becomes an exercise in intentional inclusion. I debate each name carefully, weighing their importance in our journey. Asher and Finn have to be there-they're the girls' fathers, integral to our story even if they're not part of our future.

Elena and Sienna too, now woven into the fabric of our complicated family. "Is it weird that my ex-boyfriends are coming to my wedding?" I ask Liam over coffee one morning. "It's weird that we're having this conversation at all." He grins. "But weird is kind of our brand now." "Our brand is weird." I test the phrase. "I like that." We've chosen September fifteenth. Seven weeks away, barely enough time for traditional planning. But we don't want traditional-we want intimate, meaningful, ours. The venue is a small garden in the city.

Twenty guests maximum, ceremony under an arbor, reception in the adjacent greenhouse. Simple, elegant, completely us. "This is so different from what I imagined," I admit one evening. We're working on invitations together-his handwriting neat and controlled, mine messy and impulsive. The girls are "helping" by adding stickers to envelopes, turning formal invitations into kindergarten art projects. "Your first wedding vision?" Liam asks, not looking up from addressing. "Yeah. I thought... I don't know. Something unconventional. Outside the box.

Proof that I wasn't like everyone else." The confession feels exposing. "And now?" "Now I want traditional. Normal. Boring perfect." I watch his pen form perfect letters. "Does that make me boring?" He sets down his pen, turns to face me fully. "Nothing about you is boring. But I love that you want simple." His hand finds my face, thumb tracing my cheekbone with familiar intimacy. "Simple is brave after complicated. Simple is choosing what actually works instead of what looks impressive." The girls add another sticker-this one sparkly and completely inappropriate for a formal invitation.

We don't correct them. "What do you want from this marriage?" Liam asks suddenly. "Honest question. Not what you think you should want. What you actually want. I consider it seriously, setting down my pen. "I want partnership. I want someone who shows up. Who chooses us daily without negotiation or compromise." The words come measured, important. "Who makes breakfast on Saturdays and reads bedtime stories and doesn't make me compete for attention. I want boring reliability." "I can do that." His voice is certain, absolute. "I know.

That's why I said yes." I lean across the table to kiss him, ignoring the girls' exaggerated gagging sounds. The following Saturday, dress shopping with Nora. She's driven up from the city specifically for this, treating it with the seriousness it deserves. "What are we looking for?" she asks as we enter the boutique. "Simple. White. Nothing dramatic." I'm already overwhelmed by the options. "You sure?" Nora touches a ballgown covered in crystals. "This is your wedding. You can do dramatic." "I've had enough drama for one lifetime. Give me simple." I mean it completely.

We try on dozens-too poofy, too plain, too sexy, too modest. Then I find it. Simple white dress, elegant lines, nothing ostentatious. It fits like it was made for me, hugs in all the right places without trying too hard. "That's the one," Nora says immediately. I turn in front of the mirror, watching fabric move with my body. It's perfect in its simplicity. No embellishment, no statement. Just a dress that says "bride" without shouting. "Liam will die when he sees you in this." Nora's grin is wicked. "That's the plan." I study my reflection, trying to picture September fifteenth.

Walking toward Liam in this dress, girls ahead throwing petals, Leo beside me offering support without parental weight. "You're really doing this," Nora observes. "Traditional wedding, monogamous marriage, nuclear family." "I really am." I meet her eyes in the mirror. "Surprised?" "Relieved." Her honesty catches me off guard. "I watched you try so hard to make polyamory work. It was killing you, Jazz. This-Liam, simplicity, choosing one person-this is who you actually are." The validation from my best friend makes my throat tight. "I thought I was supposed to be different. Special.

Above traditional relationship structures." "You are different. You tried something brave and learned it wasn't for you. That takes more courage than just following convention." She adjusts my train. "And now you're choosing what actually works instead of what looks impressive. That's the bravest thing of all." I buy the dress, along with simple veil and understated shoes. Nothing dramatic, nothing memorable. Just bride. That evening, showing Liam pictures on my phone-not of the dress, of the venue decorated for another wedding. "This is where we're doing it.

September fifteenth." He pulls me onto the couch, studies the images. "It's perfect." "Small. Simple. Only people who matter." I scroll through photos. "Twenty guests, two flower girls, one groom who better not be late." "I'll be early." He kisses my temple. "Probably camp out the night before." "That's not how it works." "I don't care. Not risking anything that keeps me from marrying you." The intensity in his voice makes me shiver. The girls crash into the room, demanding attention as always. We show them the venue pictures, watch their excitement build.

"I want to wear purple!" Chloe announces. "You can wear whatever color you want," I promise. "What about me?" Zoe asks. "You too. Purple, pink, rainbow-whatever makes you happy." They run off to debate dress colors, leaving us alone again. "Seven weeks," Liam says. "Seven weeks until I'm your wife." The word still feels foreign on my tongue. "My wife." He tests it, smiles. "I really like the sound of that." "Me too." I curl into him. "Mrs. Blackwood." "Or Moreau-Blackwood. Or whatever you want." He's always careful with my autonomy. "I'll decide by September fifteenth." I kiss him.

"Along with vows and whether I'm walking or running down that aisle." "Running works. I'll catch you." The certainty in his voice makes me believe it. He will catch me. Has been catching me for months, years maybe. Supporting without smothering, loving without demanding, choosing me completely without making it feel like pressure. Later, after the girls are asleep and we're tangled in bed, I think about that dress hanging in my closet. Simple white fabric that will make me a bride in seven weeks. Traditional. Normal. Exactly what I used to think I didn't want.

But wanting it now feels revolutionary. Choosing simplicity after trying complexity. Choosing one person after spreading myself across many. Choosing boring reliability over exciting chaos. It's not settling. It's not giving up. It's not admitting defeat. It's finally understanding what I actually need. What makes me happy instead of what makes me interesting. "You awake?" Liam whispers. "Yeah." "Thinking about the wedding?" "Thinking about after the wedding." I turn to face him in the dark. "About being married.

About forever actually meaning forever." "Scared?" His hand finds my face, familiar and grounding. "A little. But mostly excited." I'm honest because we promised each other honesty. "I tried forever with three people. Failed spectacularly. What if I can't do it with one?" "You won't fail." His conviction is absolute. "Because this time you're choosing what actually fits instead of forcing what doesn't." The logic is sound, but fear lingers. "Promise?" "I promise." He pulls me closer. "September fifteenth, you're walking toward me in that dress. I'm promising you forever.

And we're both going to mean it." "Both going to mean it," I repeat. Because that's the difference. Before, I was trying to mean it while my partners were hedging their bets, keeping options open, never fully committing. Now I'm walking toward someone who's already all in. Who's been all in since day one. Virgin Dot Com