Despite herself, a small laugh bubbled up. "You're making that up."
"I swear on Babushka's pirozhki." He placed his hand over his heart. "They're totally fine."
That made her look up. "That's good."
She continued eating, letting the silence settle between them like a third presence on the steps.
Finally, she said, "Why are you here?"
He shrugged. "Because you are."
She closed her eyes against the wind and let it in—his words, the quiet, the truth of being seen. The healing.
Zach didn't push. He sat, drinking his own coffee, letting his shoulder rest a whisper away from hers. The non-answer was somehow the truest answer he could have given.
"You know, I've been thinking about it. You don't break things." Zach shook his head, his voice gentle but firm. "Maybe you feel the cracks before anyone else does. But that's not a flaw. That's being brilliant."
She snorted, unconvinced.
Piper took a shaky breath, absorbing this. "Still. I just... I can't help but wait for the other shoe to drop. For something to go wrong."
"Sometimes the other shoe never drops. There's no way to know if you'll be walking around with one shoe or two."
"Well, I prefer to know," she shrugged. "Sue me."
"That's what I thought. No surprises. No..." He gestured between them. "...unexpected chemistry with strangers on sidewalks."
His words from their first meeting, thrown back at her now with such gentle precision that her eyes stung.
She closed her eyes. Held the new coffee against her chest, letting its warmth seep through her sweater. She didn't say anything else, couldn't trust her voice not to crack.
"You know," Zach added after a moment, "you aren't the only one who worries about screwing things up. I worry, too. Everyone does. That means we're people."
A breeze rustled the dying flowers in their urns.
The evening light cast long shadows across the steps where they sat side by side. No kiss. Just quiet. Real.
Piper finally leaned her shoulder into his, a silent surrender.
Zach didn't move. He stayed, solid and steady beside her.
"I love you," she whispered, the words barely audible above the city sounds.
"And I love you." He kissed her forehead, his lips lingering against her skin. "It's enough."
And for the first time in forever, Piper believed it might be.
Maybe she didn't quite know what "enough" meant.
But if it looked like this? Quiet, present, solid? It was plenty.
CHAPTER 27
94 DAYS AFTER ANNA & DRAKE'S WEDDING
PIPER
Months passed as Piper and Aspen began to work closer together.
