Chapter 17
ZACH
"Now, for dress," Babushka announced, "you need something vith more sparkle. That is the Dvornakov vay. Don't be so plain vith your choices."
"I don't want sparkle, Babushka," Anna protested. "I want simple and elegant."
"Simple is for funeral, ask Piper," Babushka declared. "Vedding needs life. Excitement."
Mom nodded. "Maybe just a little beading on the bodice?"
"Or a crystal belt," Heather suggested.
"What about a statement veil instead?" Sadie asked.
"Anna, what do you envision when you picture yourself walking down the aisle?" Piper gently redirected.
Anna's face gentled. "I like my dress how it is. It flows. It's comfortable. I feel like me in it."
"That's exactly what you should have," Piper said firmly. "It's your day."
"Yes, but—" Babushka started.
"And," Piper continued smoothly, "I think there are ways to honor traditions that matter to your family while staying true to your vision. Maybe we incorporate something special into the bouquet? Or a piece of jewelry that sparkles? Is there something special that Anna could use?"
Babushka paused, considering. "My mother's sapphire pins. For hair."
Anna's eyes misted. "Really? You'd let me use those?"
Everyone knew Babushka didn't let anyone touch her mother's jewelry.
"For you? Of course." Babushka beamed. "See? Sparkle!"
Zach stared, slack-jawed.
"Did Piper outmaneuver Babushka?" Jase asked, so only Zach could hear.
Babushka who once convinced an entire church congregation to move a wedding outside because she didn't care for the carpet color?
"Now I just have to hope my dress will still fit," Anna said with a laugh. But she dragged her fingers through her hair like the weight of the entire wedding rested solely on her shoulders.
"Is it tight?" Piper asked.
"No. It's fine," Anna said, scrunching up her nose like the word tasted bad. "It'll be fine. I just worry my waist is getting too big too fast."
Zach studied Piper more than he participated in the rest of the evening.
She remembered everyone's names. She helped his mother bring out dessert plates.
She somehow wrangled the table, making room for the cheesecake and the anatomically correct pirozhki Babushka made because she knew Piper enjoyed it last time.
When his father started complaining about the neighbors' new love of blaring backyard Ed Sheeran, Zach knew deep in his gut that the good times were officially over.
"Every night. Every single night," his dad grumbled, arms crossed like a human NO TRESPASSING sign. "People have no concept of respect."
"Aggressive Ed Sheeran is the worst," Piper said, not dismissively but with enough interest to suggest she kept a running list of personal injustices, and this one made the cut. "This is new? Because sunset Sheeran every single night is infuriating."
Zach blinked. His father blinked harder. Someone was on his side?
"It started a few months ago, I guess," his dad said slowly, adjusting to this sudden shift in audience energy. "New owners moved in. Used to be quiet as anything next door."
"Ah. A shift in the neighborhood ecosystem," Piper mused, nodding like she wasn't just invested. No, she was emotionally drafting a proposal to the HOA. "That's the worst. I mean, they know what they're doing and still do it anyway, right?"
He hesitated, visibly wobbling between decades of practiced curmudgeon and something dangerously close to open conversation. "I mean, they're nice enough the rest of the time."
"Mmm." Piper leaned in slightly like she was sharing a secret. "What do you think? Are they being deliberately inconsiderate, or are they simply that special kind of clueless?"
Dad frowned, then sighed as if the question had won a small, inconvenient victory. "They might not know."
"Well, if you tell them and they keep doing it, then you'll know they're just jerks," Jase chimed in cheerfully. "Not inadvertent assholes."
"Clarity is a good thing," Anna said, pointedly staring at Piper.
There was a pause. Zach's dad glanced at Piper, still wearing his usual armor but with a flicker of something else. Consideration, maybe. Interest, possibly. Wonder, if Zach was being very dramatic—which, sadly, was his default setting with her.
She knew exactly what she was doing.
She knew how to play this family game of his.
She fits here better than me.
And that—more than anything—terrified him. Because he could have everything he wanted at the start of this gig. But it wasn't about the deal anymore. Not really.
It was her.
He stood to help clear the plates, stacking them neatly and feeling oddly domestic as he made his way to the kitchen.
"Don't screw it up," Jase whispered, suddenly beside him, so close that Zach startled, nearly dropping a fork.
"Not planning on it," Zach replied, shooting him a sideways look as he opened the dishwasher.
Even as he said that, a quiet knot tightened in his gut. He was keeping the latest Tess revelation from her, and the longer he did, the heavier it would be.
"We like her," Jase said, his voice low but firm, like he was issuing a family decree. He pointed his index and middle finger at his eyes, then at Zach's.
Zach scoffed, turning back toward the sink. "We're not—"
"Save it." Jase waved a dismissive hand. "I've seen that look before. On my own face, right before I realized Heather was it for me."
"You're totally misreading this—"
"Shh." Jase held up his fingertip dramatically to Zach's lips, ignoring the loaded dinner plate in Zach's hand. "Time for your happily married brother to dispense wisdom. Listen carefully, baby bro."
Zach swatted Jase's hand away, setting down the plate before something shattered. "Could you not do that while I'm holding our mother's good china?"
Jase pursed his lips, thoughtful. "A lesser-known sign you're falling for someone is when you start caring whether plates survive."
"You're delusional," Zach muttered.
"Well-known and documented. But this isn't about me, this is about you and how she fits. You know how rare that is, especially with... well, all of us."
Zach dried his hands, then paused, gripping the towel a little too tightly. "I don't want to mess it up by rushing it."
Jase eased. "You're not rushing. You're feeling something real, and it scares the hell out of you. That's normal. You know what's not normal? Smiling like an idiot when someone talks about sunset Sheeran with Dad."
Zach cracked a reluctant grin.
"There he is." Jase clapped him on the back. "All you gotta do is keep showing up. Let fate handle the rest."
"Yeah?" Zach asked, his voice quieter now.
"Yeah," Jase said. "And if you ever doubt it, look around. We may be a lot, but we're fucking fantastic."
Zach didn't answer right away. But the smile stayed, lingering in the corners of his mouth as he gathered the silverware.
He wasn't ready to call it falling in love.
But maybe it was something that felt a lot like home.
"Now, first lesson from your relationship sensei," Jase said. "When you find someone who can handle Babushka without having a nervous breakdown, you lock. That. Down."
"You're getting way ahead of things. We're just working together and figuring things out."
Jase snorted. "Yeah, and I was just 'tasting the frosting' with Heather in the cookie kitchen. My point is, when you know, you know. And she's definitely the one."
The one.
"Zachary." Babushka's voice cut through his spiral. "Come. Ve need man's opinion on centerpieces and Drake doesn't care."
The rest of the night blurred together. More wedding talk. More family stories. More watching Piper seamlessly integrate herself into the controlled chaos of his life.
By the time they were saying goodbyes, Zach felt like he was underwater, everything muffled and still but oddly urgent.
The drive back was quiet—Zach's knuckles white on the steering wheel, his mind racing.
"I got some great ideas from Anna. Thank you for this time with her," Piper said.
Zach nodded. "Of course."
"And they're amazing. Your family," Piper said. "You're lucky."
He glanced over. She was looking out the window, her profile illuminated by passing streetlights.
"They can be a lot," he managed.
"No, they're..." She hesitated. "They're connected. Present. My family is so fractured after all the divorces. My mom, dad, and sister? They're all scattered across different states, different lives."
Zach didn't know what to say about that. He'd always taken his family's closeness for granted, even when it drove him crazy.
"Babushka gave me her pirozhki recipe," Piper continued.
He tried to laugh, but it came out strangled. "Yeah, she does that."
"Are you okay? You've gotten quiet."
"I'm fine," he lied. "Tired."
Telling her was out of the question. But not telling her—keeping it locked up—felt worse.
They hesitated at the curb when he parked, neither quite ready to say goodnight. He moved closer across the console, brushing a knuckle under her chin to tilt her face toward his.
"Thanks for coming with," he murmured, his voice low. Her eyes flicked to his mouth.
He leaned in slowly, giving her the chance to turn away if she wanted.
She didn't. Their lips met in a kiss that began muted, careful, then found its gravity.
No rush. There was time in it, weight, the press of everything unsaid. Her hand slid to his chest, steadying herself as the kiss lingered on, breath shared between them.
When they finally separated, it was with a quiet exhale, like they'd both been holding their breath.
He smiled, brushing an errant strand of hair behind her ear.
"Do you want to come in?" she asked.
"Yes," he said without any pause. Then he exhaled and pulled back. "But I can't. Noah's waiting at the shop to go over shit with me."
Shit he wanted to tell her all about.
She nodded once, then looked down. "Right. Of course."
She hesitated only slightly before starting to open the car door.
No, he couldn't do this. He couldn't keep it from her.
"Wait," Zach said, his voice rough.
Piper paused, and turned, questioning.
"I want to tell you something," he said, his hands sweaty.
"Okay?"
"I'm not supposed to tell anyone outside Wild Sacks, but…" He shrugged, meeting her gaze. "You're not just anyone."
That bought him a grin.
"Hire me. Then it's legal," she said, offhandedly.
"The pay is crap, and the hours are nothing," he teased.
She turned slowly and waved her hand like she had a magic wand. "I can live with that. Consider me having applied with HR."
"Great. You're hired." He leaned back, resisting the urge to touch her. "We got the Stallions deal."
Piper blinked, processing. Then grinned huge. "Really? That's amazing."
She moved in to give him a big hug before pulling back.
"Yeah. It's happening." He ran a hand through her hair. "And I just… I just had to tell you."
"I can tell. That hiring paperwork is a nightmare." She moved forward and kissed him again. "Zach?" she asked with a quirky grin.
"Yeah?"
"I quit. I can't be sleeping with my boss." She wrinkled her nose. "It's tacky."
He chuckled. "We're gonna have a meet at the shop with Tess. I'll text you a random time. You can swing by and accidentally find out for yourself," he offered. His tone was hopeful.
"Consider it done." She opened the door and stepped outside. "Goodnight, Zach," she said before closing the door behind her.
Business: secured.
The deal: done.
His family: happy.
And Piper?
She was the one variable he hadn't accounted for. The one thing he'd refused to examine too closely. Because once he did, he knew the weight of it would shift everything.
But it turned out that he didn't need to examine it to make it matter. She mattered all on her own. And his world was all tangled now. Piper. The deal. His feelings.
He closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the seat, the car quiet around him. Everything he'd ever wanted was in motion, each domino exactly where it needed to be.
But all he could think about was her.