She paused. Blinked. Turned the cup slowly in one hand until the note came into view. Peeking just under the cardboard sleeve, written in Zach's messy scrawl:
You've got this. —Z
Piper stilled.
Her brows lifted, lips parting slightly before she pressed them together again. She peeled the note free, held it in fingers that always moved fast, and simply… stared at it. Like maybe the paper itself was offering a moment of reassurance.
She sipped.
Another sip.
And then, across the room, her gaze found his.
She didn't smile. Not fully. But the edges of her mouth tipped up a fraction before she mouthed it clear as day, "Thank you."
Zach's chest squeezed.
He was so in over his head. And he wouldn't change a damn thing about it.
He shuffled to his seat near the front, beside Babushka, who was already dabbing at nonexistent tears with her handkerchief.
The ceremony space had been transformed into upscale romantic rustic with just the right amount of glam football chic, if that even existed. Which, apparently, it did. And it worked.
A Stallion—yes, the literal horse—stood by with a velvet lead and a bowtie, looking oddly dignified under the fairy lights.
Piper had compromised on its presence, only if Tess agreed to babysit both the horse and his handler. Which, judging by the slightly unhinged glint in Tess's eye, had not been a relaxing arrangement.
Babushka nudged him, her eyes already misty. "She did good, your Piper," she whispered, her accent thickening with emotion.
"She's not my—" Zach started, then stopped himself. No point in lying to Babushka. She saw through everything. "Yeah, she did. My Piper."
"The flowers," she continued, gesturing to the cascading arrangements that framed the altar. "They are from the same farm that supplied your mother and father's wedding. Did you know?"
He hadn't. But of course, Piper would dig in and find that detail and then make it happen. Of course she'd make Jase track down that specific family farm, a generation later, to source these exact roses.
That was Piper. The details that no one else would think about. The connections that made everything more meaningful.
The string quartet transitioned into a slower arrangement of Drake's team's fight song and somehow made it sound elegant rather than rowdy. How much time had she spent with the musicians, finding the perfect balance between sports tradition and wedding sophistication? No wonder she'd been unavailable.
Guests murmured appreciatively at the transformation.
One of the linebackers whispered to his date, “I thought this was gonna be all footballs and beer, but this is actually nice."
Exactly what Piper had aimed for. Respecting Tess's passion without letting it overwhelm Anna's day.
The aisle glimmered with delicate lavender petals, light bouncing off gold chairs linked in symmetrical rows.
Two cakes waited in the reception space—one glitter-drenched in team colors for those pictures, and one in delicate lavender buttercream for Anna's personal photos. Because Piper thought about everything. Planned for everyone. Somehow, she even managed to get the dueling cakes to vibe together like they meshed.
"The trick," she'd muttered while sketching out the designs, not really speaking to him, "is making them look like they belong in the same universe without being twins."
The processional music swelled. First came Drake's teammates—massive men, somehow elegant in tailored suits. Then Anna's friends, each carrying a single stem of lavender and a rose bound with silk ribbon.
Drake stood at the altar.
Flashbulbs popped on the edges.
Then Anna appeared at the back of the aisle arm in arm with Dad, beaming in the custom gown Zach stitched together.
