13. Piper
13
PIPER
“ T he colors are all wrong,” Chloe wailed, her voice cracking as she stared in the mirror at her bridesmaids. Her eyes were glassy with the kind of frustration that comes from too many sleepless nights and too much pressure.
Her friends Payton, Caroline, and Emma looked at each other wordlessly, like they had no clue how to console their teary-eyed friend. I’d only just met them, and I couldn’t figure out why I, Chloe’s newest addition to her friend roster, was the only one willing to help solve the latest wedding disaster in the making.
“What don’t you like?” I asked. “Because I think our dresses are beautiful .”
And they were. But poor Chloe was so primed for every aspect of her wedding to blow up that she couldn’t see reason. We were in a pricey boutique in a huge white fitting room with multiple bottles of champagne chilling, which should’ve made the fitting celebratory, but Chloe was inconsolable.
She sniffled and walked closer to where we were standing in a line in front of the mirror, wearing the dresses she apparently hated. “I know you probably think I’m overreacting, but…” She hesitated, her voice small now, fragile. “I asked for shades of pale pink, and Caroline’s dress is…It’s just so bright. Almost neon.” She plucked at the draped fabric at the waistline. “And Emma’s dress is so pale it’s almost white! Yours is the only one that’s close to what I was imagining, Piper, and it still doesn’t seem right.”
I thought my dress was absolutely perfect, but attempts to tell her that weren’t doing any good. Clearly, this was about more than the dresses. I had to find another way of tackling the situation.
“Yeah, I see what you mean,” Emma agreed before I could say anything. “They’re a mess.”
It was gasoline on a brushfire.
“Thank you, I know !” Chloe huffed, throwing her head back. “I just…I really don’t want to be a control freak, but they’re…they’re wrong, and I don’t know what to do about it. They’re just wrong !”
“Oh, now hold on, I wouldn’t say that,” I volunteered quickly, because I could see that Payton was about to add her two cents out of solidarity. The last thing we needed was to add more fuel to the fire when Chloe was this close to exploding. “They’re all in the same color family, but not exactly the same, which is what you wanted, and Caroline’s dress is bright but not neon. Why don’t we get the swatch palette to check the dye lot?”
“No,” Chloe sobbed. “It’s no use, I just…I hate them. I don’t even know why. I just do.” She held a tissue up to her nose. “What are we going to do ?”
The shop attendant must’ve heard the wailing, and she came rushing in. “What’s happening in here?”
“We hate the dresses,” Chloe cried. “I don’t know, maybe I need to have new ones made!”
The woman, a white-haired New Yorker who acted like she’d seen it all, looked at Chloe like she was a toddler throwing a tantrum. “I’m not sure we have enough time for that. And these gowns are custom, they need to be paid for.”
Chloe froze. “Not…enough…time?” She looked on the verge of collapsing.
I didn’t know Chloe well, but I could tell her frantic vibe was a product of the pressure of planning a high-profile, highly scrutinized society wedding. Everything was piling up on her, and now that overload was coming out in the most unfortunate way. She wasn’t a typical bridezilla; she was a stressed-out woman who was being pushed to the brink by decision fatigue. I wished her friends would see that, too.
But maybe Paul could?
I stepped into the hallway to SOS-call him, and thirty minutes later a brigade of concerned bros arrived. Paul gave me a quick hug on the way in and reintroduced me to his old friends Aiden, Dominic, and Trent. They’d all been hanging out watching a baseball game at Paul’s place, which thankfully was close enough for them to jet over. I followed them into the fitting room but stopped when a hand rested on the small of my back.
“Well, don’t you look gorgeous,” a low voice whispered in my ear. “Room for one more in there?”
Vincent .
“What’s the latest?” he asked.
“Bridesmaid dress-induced trauma,” I said. “She’s convinced the dresses are all wrong, but I think they look amazing.”
“I can only speak for what I’m seeing, and yes, you look stunning in it.”
The way he was checking me out went beyond dress appraisal. Heat rushed to my cheeks.
A wail echoed out into the hallway, and Vincent grimaced. “Oof, okay. Let’s see if I can help out.”
I followed him into the fitting room and watched in awe as he began finessing the attendant. Everyone else was focused on calming Chloe down, which gave Vincent time to convince the woman that for the right price, they absolutely did have the time to create new dresses, if that was what the bride wanted.
I loved watching him negotiate on behalf of Paul and Chloe.
Once that was settled and Chloe was a little more collected, we had something of a game plan—Chloe would sleep on what she wanted to do and get back to the bridal salon the next day. In the meantime, Vincent suggested we all go out to lunch. I expected that we’d wind up at some swanky spot, but when the line of Uber Blacks stopped in front of a burger joint, I realized I still had a lot to learn about Vincent’s tastes.
He took my hand on the way in. “We’re still in it to win it through the wedding,” he murmured in my ear. “Let’s make it look good.”
A little thrill pulsed through me, and I squeezed his hand. “You make that easy.”
His eyes went soft for a moment in a way that set off butterflies in my stomach. There was something irresistible about bringing out the softer side of him that I knew few people got to see.
Even though we were at a bistro-style restaurant, Vincent still managed to level up and score us a private room, which meant we could get as rowdy as we wanted.
And Paul’s friends were fun with a capital F.
“Hey, Vincent,” Dominic yelled down the table. “Have you told Piper about the time you got locked out of our dorm and had to climb up the side of the building Spiderman-style to get back in? And how you accidentally picked the RA’s window to climb through, and the only way she agreed to not report you was if you joined her chess club?”
“Don’t laugh, it turned out to be surprisingly fun,” he chuckled. “But I was too busy telling her about the time you mixed that disgusting tequila drink in a thirty-gallon trash can before the homecoming bonfire, and how you ended up jumping in it at the end of the night and said you were…what did he call it? The Baron of Booze?”
“The Titan of Tequila,” Aiden yelled down the table. “And now look at him. Talk about a self-fulfilling prophecy!”
Vincent leaned closer to me. “Dominic is the marketing director for Elixir—Aiden’s the CEO. Those guys are unstoppable.”
I loved the admiration in his voice. It was fun to see how far his guard dropped with his friends. He was quick to laugh and offer an anecdote, but he always made sure to fill me in so I understood the references.
Vincent made me feel like I was a part of this tight-knit group of old friends, and they welcomed me with open arms.
The whole table seemed happy to be together again, with the only exceptions being Paul and Chloe. They were in their own world, whisper-bickering at the far end of the table as the rest of us laughed and swapped stories. I noticed Vincent studying them, wearing a grim expression.
I leaned over and bumped my shoulder against his. “You worried about them?” I nodded toward the happy-ish couple.
He frowned. “Yeah, a little. It shouldn’t be this tough, you know?”
“Weddings are bumpy—it happens,” I reassured him. “Once they get through the big day, they’ll be fine.”
Vincent held my gaze for a moment, and I wished I had a clue about what went on in that head of his.
“What?” I demanded.
He shook his head, and his face relaxed again. “Nothing. All good.”
“Hey Vinny-baby,” his friend Trent yelled down the table.
Vincent scowled at what must have been an old nickname. “Yeah?”
“When are you taking Piper to meet Nana Dee?”
He glanced at me. “Soon. Very soon.”
“Good,” Trent replied. “Because it’ll get her off my back. She keeps hounding me to settle down and give her grandbabies. Better you than me.”
Vincent choked on his drink. “Now hold on a minute.”
Everyone dissolved into laughter at the thought of Vincent running front for Trent. The rest of the meal was basically a comedy skit as the old friends tried to outdo one another with stories about how stupid they were during their college years. I didn’t believe Vincent would ever agree to go streaking, but Aiden managed to dig up a grainy photo that sure looked like a younger Vincent running across the quad, his white cheeks glowing in the darkness.
Did I study the image way longer than I needed to? Maybe.
A few hours later, we’d all nearly forgotten the reason why we were gathered until Paul pulled me aside on the way out.
“Hey, thanks for stepping up to help Chloe. She’s, uh, she’s sort of a mess these days.”
“It’s totally fine, I get it,” I replied. “You’ve got the New York Times covering the wedding, and Chloe told me a bunch of influencers are coming too. She needs it to be perfect .”
Paul sighed and leaned against the wall in the narrow corridor. “I wish we could scratch everything and go to the courthouse instead. The only thing that really matters is the two of us and not dress colors and chair sashes.”
“You actually know what a chair sash is?” I laughed. “You’re in deep.”
“Do I have a choice? I want her happy.”
I reached out to grasp his arm. “You’re a good dude, you know that?”
His face went red, and he stared at the ground. “Thanks. I hope Chloe still thinks so. It’s getting to the point where she’s stressed out constantly , and I don’t know how to make it better.”
“Just keep doing what you’re doing,” I said, giving him a final squeeze. “Be her port in the storm.”
“Maybe once it’s over, the four of us can hang out? I want to bask in the kinder and gentler Vincent Forde, which is one hundred percent thanks to you.”
It was my turn to go pink. “What? You really think so?”
He laughed. “Uh, yeah. It’s like he’s back to the old Vincent now. He seems…I don’t know…lighter? I know all about the stress at work, but he’s managing to be present in the moment.” Paul paused. “You’re the change.”
“Change of what?” Vincent asked as he joined us. “What are we discussing? Napkin thread counts?”
Paul threw his arm around Vincent’s shoulder. “It’s brother-sister stuff, don’t worry about it.”
My heart warmed when Paul glanced over at me. His father had been a major roadblock in our relationship, but it was starting to feel like we could finally forge a real siblinghood.
“What about you?” Vincent asked. “Did you weather this latest crisis in one piece? You two gonna fight all the way to the altar?”
There was an edge of sarcasm in his voice I didn’t appreciate, like he doubted the strength of their relationship. I glared at him, but he was staring at Paul.
“I’ll do whatever it takes to marry that woman,” Paul said, his expression softening. “I just want her to feel like everything’s going the way she planned. She deserves it.”
Vincent shrugged. “More power to you. Can’t say I understand brides, but good for you.”
Chloe joined us looking sheepish. “I’m sorry. I know I’m a nightmare.”
I laughed. “You are not , you’re a perfectionist! But I want to go on the record and let you know that I love my dress, and I think it’s beautiful. Not trying to sway you, I just wanted you to know.”
Chloe stuck out her bottom lip like she was about to cry and gave me a quick hug.
“You two make a good team, you know that?” Chloe said as she glanced between us. “Piper talked me off the ledge, then called for reinforcements. And you, Vincent, finessing the seamstress. I can’t believe the shop is willing to let me change my mind.”
I sputtered and pointed at Vincent. “This guy? A sweet talker?”
His forehead furrowed for a moment, so fast I was probably the only one who caught it.
“Yeah, uh, she’s right,” he said. “All I did was open my wallet.”
“Well, you did it, they listened, and I thank you for it,” Chloe said as she linked her arm through Paul’s. “We owe you both. Dinner soon?”
“How about dinner after the honeymoon?” Paul said gently. “You’re pretty booked up these days.”
Chloe giggled. “True, not to mention I’ll probably be more fun after it’s all over. But you have my word, I’m going to be perfectly calm and rational from this point forward.”
“Attagirl,” Paul said. He leaned over and kissed the top of her head, and I melted a little.
We followed behind them on the way out of the restaurant.
“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Vincent said softly as we headed for his car. “Maybe Paul’s second wedding will be smoother.”
I jerked away from him. “I’m sorry, his what ?”
Vincent didn’t look at me. “Nothing. Totally kidding.”
His mouth pressed into a tight line. Vincent could fake it, but deep down it sounded like he had his doubts about the success of happily ever afters.