"I'm learning so much." He grinned. "My turn: open floor plans ruined living rooms."
"On behalf of people who prefer doors," she said, pressing her hand to her heart, "thank you."
His expression went quiet in a way that made her chest feel too full. The conversation idled with the music, and gradually the energy shifted. Easier. Just two people talking.
"My mom insisted I had a 'natural gift' for event planning," she said.
"You mentioned your parents had multiple weddings," he said carefully. "To each other?"
Piper nodded, tracing the rim of her glass with one finger. "At first. Each time they convinced themselves that 'this time it would be different.' And each time, it wasn't."
"That's a lot for a kid to deal with," Zach observed.
"Try being appointed the wedding planner for their third attempt," Piper said with a dry laugh. "I was sixteen. My mother fired the professional because 'he couldn't understand their unique love story.'"
"Sixteen? That's..."
"Inappropriate? Traumatic? Character-forming?" Piper supplied. "All of the above. But I was good at it. I had a gift for creating order from messes." She lifted a shoulder.
"That's how you got into event planning professionally?"
She nodded. "Turns out the skills transfer nicely to corporate events. Better, actually, since companies don't usually divorce after the product launch."
Zach made a keep going gesture.
She swallowed, hard. "It's a pattern. My parents, my own train-wreck of a love life, even clients. I'm the common denominator. I'm the kryptonite."
Zach leaned forward, his eyes intent on hers. "You don't really believe that, do you?"
Something flashed in her eyes. Uncertainty, perhaps?
"I believe in patterns. And my pattern suggests I should stay far away from anything involving white dresses and vows no one can keep."
He gave a low whistle. "I thought my family was complicated."
Piper laughed. "I'm sorry, but nothing compares to my mom announcing her newest engagement to her divorce lawyer at my college graduation party just to piss off my dad."
He lifted his glass in surrender. "Okay, you win."
Their laughter joined the music as the band transitioned into a slower song. Couples drifted toward the dance floor, and Zach watched them before turning his gaze back to her.
"At least your family is present for you," she said. "And supportive."
He flinched at that. "They've come around. The flower business has been in the family for generations. My decision to go a different direction wasn't exactly celebrated."
"But they support you now?"
"They're still a little wait-and-see. I really think things like the Stallions deal would change that."
The band shifted to a soulful standard, the singer's voice smoothing over the clinking of glasses and buzz of conversation. Zach looked toward the dance floor and seemed to make a decision.
"What do you say?" he asked, rising and offering his hand.
Absolutely not. She didn't dance.
"I'm not good at that," she said.
"You don't have to be good at it. That's the best part."
