Chapter 21 #2
"No." She shakes her head, reaching up to straighten my bow tie even though it doesn't need it. "You're the guy who drove nine hours to crash a gala because I was too scared to choose what I really wanted."
"And what do you really want, Piper?"
The question hangs between us, and before she can answer, the fancy band music shifts to a slower tempo, something classical and sweeping. Couples begin drifting toward the dance floor.
I hold out my hand. "Dance with me."
"Chase—"
"Please."
She places her hand in mine. "Okay."
The dance floor is already crowded, but I don't care. I pull Piper close, one hand at her waist, the other holding hers, and we start to move.
She's stiff at first, totally aware of every set of eyes on us. But gradually, as we sway to the music, she relaxes into me and forgets the world outside of us even exists.
"You know," she says softly, "you're quite fetching in a tuxedo, Morrison."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. But it's not really you."
"Are you saying you just want me to be myself?" I grin. "Because I can grab a flannel shirt from my truck right now, baby."
She laughs and some of the nervous tension melts from her shoulders. "Please don't. My mother would have an aneurysm."
"Might be worth it."
We spin slowly, and I catch sight of Maxwell glaring at us from across the room. Good. Let him watch. Let him see exactly what he's lost.
"This would've never worked as just friends with benefits, Chase," Piper says suddenly, her voice quiet but firm. "Have you ever realized that?"
My chest tightens as I think about signing that napkin at Bear Paw.
"Want to know something?" I pull her a little closer, letting my hands slide down the smooth silk of her dress. "I never wanted to sign that napkin in the first place."
Her eyes widen. "You didn't? Then why did you?"
"Because I already knew." The words catch in my throat, but I force them out. "I knew you were the one for me, Piper. The second you climbed that fire escape in that ridiculous dress… I knew I was in love."
"Then why—"
"Did I signed it anyway?" I swallow hard, my hand tightening on her waist. "So you'd have a reason to come back. So you wouldn't just disappear like everyone else always does."
Understanding floods her face, and her grip on my shoulder softens into something achingly tender.
"I thought if I gave you rules, boundaries, an easy out... maybe you'd keep choosing me. Even if it was just for weekends." My voice cracks. "Even if it was just casual. Because something was better than nothing, and nothing is what I always end up with."
"Chase—"
"I was so scared of losing you that I convinced myself I'd be okay with scraps." I pull her closer, until there's barely any space between us. "I tried to tell myself it was just physical. That we could keep it casual. But you don't do casual, Piper. Neither do I."
"No," she whispers. "We don't."
The music swells, violins and cellos weaving together in something achingly beautiful.
Around us, other couples dance, but they fade into background noise. It's just Piper and me, swaying in the center of this glittering ballroom that neither of us belongs in.
"You're not just anyone to me, Piper," I say, looking into her beautiful eyes. "Not some girl I wanted for a few weekends or... whatever we tried to tell ourselves. From the moment you climbed that fire escape in designer heels, we've always been more."
She laughs, but it's watery with tears. "I was so drunk."
"You were perfect."
"I was a mess."
"You were brave." I spin her gently, then pull her back. "You took a chance on something that scared you. That's the bravest thing I've ever seen."
"Chase." Her voice breaks on my name. "I'm still scared."
"Of what?"
"Of disappointing people. Of making the wrong choice." She blinks rapidly, fighting tears. "I've spent my whole life being who everyone else wanted me to be. And then you showed up and made me want to be... me."
"You've always been you, Piper. You just finally let yourself show it."
"In Stone River, maybe. But here?" She glances around the ballroom, at the glittering crowd, the expensive decorations. "Here, I'm still playing the role."
"Then stop playing." I cup her face with one hand, thumb brushing her cheekbone. "My family left, Piper. And for years, I convinced myself it was because I wasn't worth staying for."
"That's not true."
"I know that now. Because of you." I lean my forehead against hers, our movements slowing until we're barely swaying. "You chose me, Piper."
A tear slips down her cheek. "I did choose you. I do choose you."
"Then choose yourself, too. Choose the life you want, not the one everyone else expects."
The band continues and I can practically see the wheels turning in her head. The calculations, the fears, the lifetime of conditioning telling her to play it safe.
But then she looks up at me, and her eyes are clear. Determined.
"Stone River," she says. "I want Stone River. I want Sunday dinners at your apartment and hikes to Silver Falls and wildflower meadows. I want Betty's pancakes and Martha's pot roast and Charlie's terrible karaoke nights. I want a life that's messy and imperfect and real."
My heart stutters. "Piper—"
"I want you, Chase. Not just on weekends. Not just when it's convenient. I want all of it."
I can't speak. Can't breathe. All I can do is pull her close and kiss her, right there in the middle of the dance floor, in front of Chicago's elite and her horrified mother and everyone who thinks we don't belong together.
When we finally break apart, she's smiling. Really smiling, in a way I've never seen before.
"But before we go," she says, pulling back slightly, "I have one thing left to do."
"What's that?"
She takes my hand and leads me toward the center of the ballroom, where the crowd is thickest.
And then, with every eye in the room on her, Piper Whitman straightens her spine, lifts her chin, and spins. The gorgeous gown flares out, a cascade of silk and delicate beading that catches the light like stars.
It's breathtaking. She's breathtaking.
But it's what happens next that stops the entire room cold.
As the gown settles, the hem lifts just enough to reveal her shoes.
Mud-streaked teal… hiking boots.
The gasp that ripples through the crowd is audible. Somewhere near the bar, Piper's mother sways and Maxwell's mouth falls open.
But Piper doesn't stop. She lifts the hem of her gown higher, showing off the boots fully, and the message is unmistakable:
This is who I am.
I stay where I am at the edge of the dance floor, hands stuffed in my pockets, watching her completely unravel every expectation they've ever had.
She doesn't need me to rescue her. This is her moment. Her rebellion. Her choice.
And God, I love her for it.