And off to the right, the Dvornakov's legendary Tablitsa Sud'by stood proud beneath its obligatory sign.
Babushka bee-lined to the champagne flutes, wearing a grin that looked entirely too pleased with itself.
She paused near the Borodinsky and clapped twice, sharp as a starter pistol. "Vhere is the salt? You vant bad luck for marriage? Bring the salt here by Borodinsky. Eto katastrofa."
She adjusted an orchid centerpiece with brisk authority, then pulled a small square of embroidered cloth from her pocket. With uncharacteristic tenderness, she spread it over the corner of the main table.
“Vedding destiny," Babushka muttered, patting the cloth, eyes momentarily far away. "Tablitsa Sud'by always knows." Then she snapped back. "You. Vhere is salt? I asked for salt. No salt, no soul."
Piper blinked. Her feet refused to move.
Zach was leaning against the edge of the porch, now in a light-gray suit and white shirt, no tie. He didn't say anything right away. He slid his hands into his pockets, smile easy, eyes locked on her like she hung the damn moon.
She squinted. "What is this?"
Zach stepped closer, head tilting, voice warm as his gaze. "It's a wedding. Ours. If you're in. If you're not, then it's just a party."
Her mouth fell open. Somewhere behind her, Shelby made a choked sound that sounded suspiciously like a squeal.
Piper turned to glance to where her bestie stood with junior-event planner Abigail. "You were both in on this?"
They nodded. Then Shelby set down her drink long enough to root through her purse for her phone, muttering about the angle of natural lighting, but already snapping photos.
Piper's jaw worked soundlessly for a beat while her brain recalibrated. Because it was one thing to joke about surprise weddings. A whole different thing when the man you love made you a custom dress... and then gave you his forever in front of a Tablitsa Sud'by.
"You planned a wedding without me?" she asked.
"I had to," Zach said, shrugging. "You didn't want to."
She let out a stunned laugh, hands flying to her face. "Oh my God."
A lazy Sunday flashed in her memory. That morning months ago, sunlight slanting across the rumpled sheets, her head on his chest, the kind of morning that felt like it could last forever. She'd looked up at him and said with a sleepy smile, "When we get married, let's elope with a basket of tacos."
He'd laughed, warm and amused, but the way he'd looked at her lingered like a fingerprint. Quietly intense, like he was saving that moment for something.
"Also, I would like the extra bonus points I deserve because I handmade your wedding dress," Zach said with a grin.
This dress, with its careful details and delicate weight, felt worlds away from the cluttered Pinterest boards she'd made for the first weddings she’d planned. Those were weddings that happened to other people.
"Bonus points granted," she assured.
"It's legal. It's catered. And I present to you… zero doves," Zach continued.
That sealed it.
She surged forward, wrapping her arms around him before launching herself straight into what was, apparently, her wedding day.
Zach's family was all there. Even her parents and her sister showed up. Zach said he made them swear to be on good behavior. But honestly, she didn't care. Today was about her and Zach, not about them.
Guests arrived and trickled into the rows—even the D.I.C.K. crew showed up. Including Morty. Piper slipped Abigail aside to ensure she kept him and Babushka as far apart as possible.
That potential drama aside, the funeral directors had become more than clients to Piper. They were friends.
And they still refused to change their acronym. They liked it so it stayed.
The conference, for the record, was amazing and Piper was already working on the next one.
Babushka dabbed tears from both cheeks with a lace hanky that might've been passed down from the Romanovs. Probably.
