He had this in the bag.
Zach grabbed his keys, spun them once around his finger, and slid them into his pocket.
This was either the best idea he'd ever had or a disaster that would take seven generations to live down.
It'd probably land somewhere in between.
His drive across Denver was a condensed chance for his brain to replay the morning's full-scale Piper retreat, and a solid opportunity for him to question his confidence.
He squashed all that down as he pulled up to her apartment building, the engine humming in the quiet street.
Zach: Here.
A moment later, the front door of her building opened. She walked toward his car with a determined stride, her professional armor firmly in place. Though he caught the slight hesitation in the way she held her purse.
He got out, meeting her on the sidewalk. "Ready for this?"
A small, tight smile touched her lips. "I've reviewed the schematics. I think I can handle it."
"I have faith in you." He held the passenger door for her, a small gesture that felt weighted with all the things they hadn't said since morning. She slid into the seat, her knee brushing his hand as he closed the door, a spark of static that was becoming familiar.
He caught himself sneaking another glance at her. Then another. She didn't notice. She was too busy watching the blur of passing trees and neighborhood houses as if trying to talk herself out of something.
She probably was.
Somehow, she'd managed to look both professional and relaxed in jeans and a blouse that probably had an official color name like "seafoam" or "sage" or something equally specific that he'd never be able to identify.
He nudged the volume knob down, only enough for words to find space.
"So, my family," he started, then cleared his throat. "They're, uh?—"
"Enthusiastic wedding planner helpers?" Piper offered.
He snorted. "They have zero chill and maximum opinions. I should probably apologize in advance."
"I've dealt with my family my whole life, Zach. I can handle a family dinner with yours. It'll be cake."
"Yeah, but this isn't just any family dinner. This is a Dvornakov family dinner, which means someone might interrogate you about your reproductive plans before dessert." He paused at a stoplight, turning to face her. "Just nod, eat everything Babushka hands you unless it's beets, and don't mention astrology, or American cheese."
Piper raised an eyebrow. "American cheese?"
"Trust me. My dad will spend forty-five minutes explaining why it's not real cheese, and then Jase will defend it just to piss him off, and then you'll be stuck in the middle of the Great Cheese Debate all over again."
The corner of her mouth twitched. "Noted. And astrology?"
"We don't talk about astrology." He shivered. The women in his family had strong opinions about astrological charts stronger than his dad's hatred of pasteurized process cheese.
"Want me to go over names again?"
"Nope, I've got it. I made up a little song in my head, and I've been singing it, so I don't forget."
"I want to hear it."
"No."
"Piper?"
"No."
