The promotion was fabulous, and Piper loved dipping into the responsibility. As she'd taken on more, Aspen had taken less. She wanted to spend time with her kids, but she didn't want to give up her company. So, Piper was her right hand.
It worked for everyone.
Piper worked on a few more weddings and the D.I.C.K. conference was coming along brilliantly.
Today, it was almost quitting time and Piper stood by the break room table in her favorite pink pantsuit and patent-leather flats. Right next to a slightly wonky cupcake tower with a glitter-glued "Wedding Survival Kit" in her grip.
There was no red carpet or giant bouquet waiting. No fanfare or ceremonial jazz hands. But this moment was special—everyone knew it.
"Okay team," she announced to the group of junior planners gathered there, "before you say thank you for the bagel spread, or the gold love-themed pens, I have a gift to distribute to Abigail."
Piper waved her forward, remembering (against her will) her first wedding that wasn't for her parents. The missing cake that got delivered to the wrong place. The best man with food poisoning. The groom late because his mother locked the keys in her minivan.
Piper hadn't had any glitter bags or sparkly morale stickers. She only had a pair of broken kitten heels, and a lunchbox full of TUMS and used-up tissues.
Abigail stepped up with that same nervous tightness Piper once carried in every shoulder muscle. The newest addition to the team was twenty-two with bangs as sharp as her Type A tendencies.
Piper held out the mesh bag to her.
"A survival kit?" Abigail asked, eyeing the glitter bag like it might be rigged to explode with heart-shaped Post-its.
Piper smiled. "You're getting your very first wedding assignment from Aspen tomorrow?"
Abigail nodded slowly. "I really don't want to screw it up."
Piper glanced down at the ground, her hair sliding across one cheek, and said, "The funny thing about screwing up is that you can usually unscrew it if you're sincere." She paused. "You should write that down."
Abigail grinned. "Noted."
"Here's what I didn't have but definitely needed when I first started." Piper handed her the pink mesh sack with ceremonial gravity. "Inside you'll find stress pucks, tissues, a sewing kit, an emergency chocolate bunny, peppermint tea, a list I made for you of 'reasons today probably isn't ruined,' fake magnetic lashes, and one extremely sparkly sticker that reads, It's not magic. It's me."
"I love it." Abigail beamed, holding the kit up high while everyone else clapped and cheered.
"But be warned," Piper said, as ominously as she could. "If you cry before the ceremony, Babushka says you might cry after, too."
No one questioned it. Babushka rules were sacred canon in the office even when they made absolutely no sense at all.
Chuckles started in the back of the group and moved all the way through.
Abigail squeezed the mesh bag like it was filled with gemstones instead of a bunch of fun stuff that didn't really matter… and at the same time mattered too much. "Thanks, Piper."
The room cleared and Piper stepped back, nibbling on a bagel.
"That was cute," Zach said, leaning against the doorframe, his hair doing its usual tousled thing.
She jumped. Caught in the act of spoiling her dinner.
"How long were you standing there?" she asked.
Zach tipped his forehead toward her. "Long enough to get emotionally invested in the survival kit's sticker choices."
She loved his voice. Loved hearing him talk. Because he always spoke like things were fine, even when they weren't. That settled her, because even if they were falling apart, they would figure it out together.
She smirked. "It was either It's not magic. It's me. or Dream Day Enforcer. Seemed on brand."
Zach crossed the room and set down his coffee. "You said pick you up at five. I'm here at five-oh-two."
"You're saying that you're late?" She tilted her head to the side.
