15. Piper
FIFTEEN
Piper
SAY YES TO DISTRESS
New Year’s Eve
What’s the actual last thing you’d ever want Holden Archer to see you doing when you come face-to-excruciatingly-handsome-face with him in a beautiful, cozy mountain cabin?
Singing and dancing around to “Dreams” by The Cranberries while drinking straight from a bottle of champagne?
While you’re wearing someone else’s wedding gown?
Yeah.
Me too.
And yet, here we are.
“Wow. Hi,” he says, standing on the big mat inside the front door, never taking his eyes off of me while brushing off the snow from his black jacket. The jacket is unzipped, he’s wearing a creamy white sweater under it, and oh my God, he’s combing his fingers through his hair, and his eyes are so blue I might faint.
“Hi. Wow.” I think I say it out loud. I don’t seem to be able to move my body anymore, so I’m not sure if I can move my face.
How did I get here?
I vaguely remember the drive to Big Bear. More vivid than the actual driving is my memory of every song on the “Get It Girl” Spotify playlist Lainey made for me. I remember feeling good about having done what I did with Holden last night, even though I did it as Shay, as far as he was concerned. I remember my anticipation level for meeting Journal Guy rising with the elevation as I drove farther up into the San Bernardino Mountains and marveled at the pure white snow falling upon the evergreens. It seemed very cinematic, in that it was nice to look at and had very little to do with me and my life.
I remember driving up to this cabin, stepping out onto the driveway. The highway was pretty clear of snow, but well over an inch had accumulated on the side streets. The snowflakes were getting bigger and falling faster, and all I could think about was doing everything Shay had sent me here to do and getting out of the cabin in time to meet with Journal Guy.
I remember walking into this inviting, quiet living room, getting totally freaked out by how quiet it was, and turning on the big screen TV. It was set to one of those cable subscription music channels. The Pretenders song about using my arms and my legs and my style was playing. It was on the playlist Lainey made for me too, so that was the second time I’d heard it today, and that song always makes me feel great. It put an extra spring in my step while carrying a very expensive flower arrangement from the passenger seat of Lainey’s car to the coffee table. Shay had it sent to my apartment first thing in the morning, and she told me in a text message that it cost more than she was paying me for the day, so I’d better not damage it or it would come out of my paycheck. I even felt kind of happy knowing that Holden would be enjoying the fresh chocolate-covered strawberries I transferred from the cooler in the trunk to the fridge, along with the bottle of Dom Pérignon and gluten-free, keto-friendly charcuterie board that I had to pick up on the way here.
I went about the rest of my business, unpacking the suitcase Lainey had brought from Shay’s house while referring to the to-do list Shay sent me. I carefully placed the tiny embroidered lingerie set with the garter belts in the top drawer of the dresser in the bedroom. I arranged the selection of condoms as artfully as possible in a bedside table drawer. I put the pink furry handcuffs in that same drawer, along with the keys. I placed the Italian fig-and-pear-scented candle in the bathroom, as instructed, as well as white pillar candles with fancy premium long matchsticks in every room.
I dutifully staged this rented cabin as per Shay’s directions and turned it into a tasteful New Year’s fuck shack, and it wasn’t sickening or upsetting to me at all!
I distinctly remember getting texts from Shay telling me her flight was delayed but that I needed to get out of the cabin before one o’clock, “or else.”
I remember getting a message from Journal Guy and thinking, Oh wow. He’s really coming to Big Bear. We’re actually going to meet. What if I don’t like him in person? What if he doesn’t like me? What if we do like each other and we have sex and it turns out I hate sex?! What if it turns out romantic love is a myth? A hoax? Or even worse, what if I fall in love with Journal Guy for real and he falls in love with me, but then at some point I do meet Holden Archer and I mean, of course I’ll fall in love with him too, and what if he falls in love with me?! I’ll have to choose between them! Or what if they decide they want to do a three-way thing with me and then they fall in love with each other?
In short, I got pretty stressed out.
Which is why I decided to pop open the bottle of Veuve Clicquot the owners of the cabin had left in the fridge. There was a handwritten note next to the bottle that said Welcome! Happy New Year! Please enjoy this complimentary bottle of champagne! and I thought to myself, Thanks! Don’t mind if I do! And I didn’t want to add dishwashing to the list of things I had to do before leaving the cabin, so I just drank from the bottle.
And then I looked for a place to hang Shay’s garment bag. Which led me to open the closet in the bedroom. Which is where I found the most beautiful wedding dress I have ever seen. An ivory sparkly lace sleeveless ball gown with a beaded high neckline top and ruched, flouncy tulle skirt that was just made for twirling around in.
What was it doing here? I wondered.
Did the previous renters get married here and forget to take the wedding dress when they checked out?
Was this cabin used for a movie or photo shoot and the crew accidentally left it behind?
Is the owner of this cabin divorced and doesn’t want to get rid of her first wedding dress, but she also doesn’t want to keep it at the house she lives in with her current husband?
Or—did the Universe conjure this dress up using holiday magic as a way of saying, Hang in there, Piper Puckett! You’ll get your HEA even though some other crappy person who doesn’t deserve or even like Holden Everett Archer is going to bone him tonight.
When I picked up the hanger and took this stunning feat of design and needlework out of the closet, I could tell it would fit me. I could just tell. And I thought to myself, Well, why the fuck shouldn’t I do this one small thing for myself, to make myself feel good and pretty on New Year’s Eve? I deserved this.
How did I get the incredibly delicate hidden zipper zipped-up in the back all the way up to the back of my neck all by myself? I honestly have no idea. It was like highway hypnosis. I must have entered a trancelike state when I decided to say yes to this dress. I just know that I look fucking amazing in this gown, and even now, I have no regrets about putting it on.
I remember the music channel started playing “Dreams” by The Cranberries, and I thought, It’s a sign! And I danced around, barefoot and carefree, in this wedding gown. Sort of an interpretive dance, I guess you could say. Swaying around like a fairytale princess in her castle. Singing along to this wonderful song that has been in my head at some point throughout every day of my life for as long as I can remember. And I was taking very ladylike swigs from this bottle of champagne and really just loving life and looking forward to a time when I can share this life of mine with a special someone who may or may not be Journal Guy.
And I thought I was alone, and I was happy.
And now this .
“Wow.” Holden Archer is standing ten feet away from me, looking at me quizzically with his piercing azure-blue eyes. “You look really beautiful, but I feel a little underdressed…”
And I’m realizing…this person heard me orgasm while using a vibrator last night and he doesn’t even know it. What does he know? That I’m one of many girls he saw at the airport in New York for a few seconds—what was that—yesterday? And now I’m here in a cabin at Big Bear where he’s supposed to be meeting Shay Nicholls? And I’m wearing a wedding dress? He must be so confused.
“I can explain,” I say, just as Holden says, “I have a lot of explaining to do.”
“This isn’t my wedding dress” is what I choose to say next. “I found it in the closet.”
“Okay. Well.” He holds his hand out toward me and says, “It looks really good on you.”
“Thank you.”
He slips one hand into the front pocket of his pants and points behind himself with the other hand, over his shoulder. “Shay gave me the key code for the front door, but it was unlocked.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“What time is it? It isn’t one yet, is it?” I gather up the tulle skirt with one hand and then put the bottle of champagne down on the coffee table on a coaster. It looks like I’ve only consumed about a quarter of the bottle, but boy, do I feel bubbly in my head! “I, um, I’m Shay’s assistant, Piper. Shay’s flight was delayed—did she tell you? I, uh, I didn’t think you’d be here yet… I have to…I have to go meet someone.”
“Yeah. Shay has been texting me about her flight delays.” He strokes his chin, furrowing his beautiful brow, and gosh, his eyebrows are really sexy and interesting and kind of fun. I don’t usually have an eyebrow thing, but I would be happy just to date one or both of his eyebrows. “I found out you’re Shay’s assistant yesterday, actually.”
“Oh.” Whaaaat? I concentrate on gathering up the tulle skirt into both of my hands, as if gathering my thoughts and feelings, so I don’t trip over them and fall flat on my face.
He combs the beautiful fingers of one of his beautiful, manly hands through his perfect chestnut-brown hair again, sighing before saying, “And I figured out yesterday that you’re the one who’s been texting me as Shay on Backroom. I just…don’t really understand why.”
Blink.
Blink, blink.
Blink.
I motion to slide my glasses up the bridge of my nose, but I’m not wearing my glasses. Lainey convinced me to put in my contacts this morning, so I would appear more bonery for Journal Guy. “Um…”
My mouth is so dry. I reach for the champagne, to rehydrate, so I can explain. I take one large, dainty, ladylike sip, and carefully place the bottle back down. Holden is watching me, and he appears to be amused. I clear my throat, take a deep breath, and then all the words start tumbling out of my mouth. All of them.
“I am so sorry. Shay hired me to text you because I always text guys for Lainey. Lainey’s my roommate. And Lainey is Shay’s sister.” I squeeze my eyes shut to say the next part. “Shay knew that I’m a big fan of yours and that I’m good at texting guys for her sister, and so she asked me to pretend to be her in Backroom. Because she wants to go to the Winds of Change premiere with you to make her ex-boyfriend jealous!” I cover my mouth and shake my head before continuing, because it’s awful when I say it out loud; it’s so awful!
“And I signed an NDA, so I might go to jail for this—I don’t know—but you deserve to know, and I am so sorry I deceived you, Holden! It wasn’t my idea, but that doesn’t make me any less to blame for this horrible deception! I just liked talking to you and I got so caught up in it because I really, really like you and it was really fun! And I know I’m just some fan and it’s just a celebrity crush, but I think you’re wonderful and dreamy and I didn’t think I’d ever get another chance to meet you! It felt like we were in our own little world together for a while, and I loved it.
“And yes, yes. Maybe I was just fixated on you because I knew on some level I’d never meet you in person and that way you’d always be perfect!” I turn my back to him, because I can’t say the next part with him looking at my face. “But last night I thought it was my last chance to ever communicate with you, and there was wine, and I had just seen you at the airport, and I thought we had a moment. And I’m so sorry if you feel like a victim, but I swear I’ve never done anything like that before and it really meant something to me and I hope you forgive me. Just please don’t tell Shay because I wasn’t supposed to, so don’t ever tell her we?—”
“Shhh,” Holden says. “Stop talking.” I do stop talking because he’s stepped around in front of me and he’s cupping my face in his big, beautiful, manly hands, and he kisses me. He kisses me on the mouth to shut me up. And he keeps on kissing me even though I’ve stopped talking possibly forever and I forgot what I was saying.
I get this flash of an image of what’s happening, like a gift from my future self: I’m wearing a wedding dress on a snowy New Year’s Eve and Holden Archer is kissing me.
And it finally registers that my confetti wish came true.
I’ve met Holden face-to-face and he figured out it was me he was texting with.
When he finally removes his lips from my lips, he rests his forehead against mine and says, “I knew it was you last night. Okay?” He brushes his thumbs across my cheeks. “Do you understand? I knew it was you, baby. You’re the one I was picturing. Everything I said, I was saying it to you.” He kisses my forehead. “Understand?”
I nod. My lips are still tingling and my brain is still bubbly and I might be floating off the ground a little bit. I understand the words. I don’t know if my brain will ever catch up, but my heart knows it’s true.
“I’m not here for Shay,” he tells me, tilting my chin up with a curled index finger until I look him straight in the eye. “I came here to meet you .”
“Holden…I…um…I’m supposed to go meet someone else…”
“I know,” he says, nodding slowly. “I have good news and bad news for you. The bad news is it’s snowing pretty hard out there and you really shouldn’t drive anywhere now.”
Oh no.
Poor Journal Guy.
“The good news is…” Holden continues, planting a kiss on my left jaw, “I’m here, so you don’t have to go anywhere.” He plants a kiss on my right cheekbone. “I’m the one you’re supposed to meet at the restaurant… You sent me a message asking me to come help you with something.”
I jerk my head back. “Huh?”
“What I mean is,” he calmly continues, “you sent Journal Guy a message asking him to help you with something.”
And now I remember.
I realized there was no way I’d be able to get out of this dress by myself without tearing it. I FaceTimed Lainey in a panic because I couldn’t show up at the restaurant to meet Journal Guy in a wedding dress. After laughing for about five minutes straight, taking screenshots of me, and explaining that even if she had a car to drive up to Big Bear to help me with this, it would take her over two hours to get here, so I should ask Journal Guy to come to the cabin and get me out of the dress instead.
So, I guess I did that. But how does Holden Archer know about Journal Guy? I take a step back and stare at him, wide-eyed and now totally unable to blink.
He rests his beautiful, manly hands on his hips and says with a shrug, “ I’m Journal Guy. I found your journal in that cab three years ago, Piper. I’m the one who emailed you. E. For Everett . Holden Everett Archer. I’m the one you’ve been emailing and Google Chatting with. It’s me.”
I wrinkle my nose at him. “Huh?”
“Surpriiiise,” he mutters. After I stare at him in shock for what feels like a solid eternity, he exhales and says, “Okay. Let’s get you out of that wedding dress.”