Chapter 25
ZACH
The hum of the sewing machine buzzed under Zach's fingers like it needed something to stitch more than fabric. Answers. Like him, it needed answers.
He'd settle for a goddamn glass slipper at this point. Anything to prove she was real, and she was coming back.
Outside, Denver was tucked into night. Inside, they were neck-deep in a new cut inspired by Roman gladiators.
Those were Noah's words, not his. But Zach couldn't concentrate. Not even close.
He pinched the bridge of his nose and tried not to check his phone again.
Noah sat across the worktable, poking at a pile of waistband prototypes like they might bite him.
"She's gonna call," Noah said for, oh, the fourteenth time.
Piper hadn't responded all day. Off grid. Radio-silent. Every notification on his phone triggered false hope. Every news ping made his stomach turn.
He nodded toward the prototype in Noah's hand. "That seam's off by half a centimeter. You'll feel it."
Noah gave him a look. "And you'll feel it when your heart explodes from stressing about your girl, but cool, let's focus on the elastic."
Zach scoffed.
Noah dragged one waistband across the table with the enthusiasm of a cat inspecting broccoli. "What even is this stretch blend?"
"Lycra-poly mix. Contours like butter, irritates the skin like regret." Zach's response came automatically.
"Cool. Definitely the one to go with."
"Piper said she needed space," Zach murmured.
She'd said it while seriously trying not to cry. He could still hear it on replay in his head—space—as if she hadn't just meant air but distance.
He hadn't known what to do then, either, except nod like he understood.
But he didn't, not really.
Zach huffed a breath, then leaned back on his stool, swallowing the emotion that had tried to claw its way up. "She thinks it's her fault. But she wasn't even there. Why the hell would she blame herself?"
"Because of a photo." Noah said. "Pretty sure it's because of the photo."
"Helpful," Zach said, dryly.
"I aim to please."
"It wasn't even a real argument," Zach pointed out. "Anna said it was about orange juice and how Drake always steals the good pillow."
Noah blinked. "The good pillow?"
"Like how in every bed there's one pillow that's always the best one? Drake steals it, apparently. Anna had enough," Zach stared at a line of broken thread on the table.
"Team Anna on this one. Drake can use the flat pillow," Noah said.
Before Zach could respond, a knock scraped sharp against the metal door.
"That better be the pizza," Noah muttered, pushing to stand.
But it wasn't.
Shelby stood under the flickering warehouse bulb like she'd been blown there by desperation. Hair up in a haphazard tower-of-terror bun, hoodie half-zipped over pajamas, and that wild look in her eyes that meant somebody was about to key a car.
"She hasn't come home," Shelby said before Zach could even ask.
"Her phone's off. I've called. Texted. Pinged her location.
Nothing." Her voice cracked on that last word.
"She did this once before," Shelby added quickly.
"Back in college. Tossed her phone in the freezer and disappeared for twelve hours.
I found her sitting behind the campus library.
Not crying. Not mad. Just...gone, almost. Like there was a wall she couldn't climb back over. "
Zach was on his feet. Keys already in hand. That was all he needed.
"Pretty much, that. She saw the pictures," Zach said. "Didn't know the context. Just believed it was her. That she caused it. She panicked. She's not herself. We're all trying to find her."
The silence that followed was thick, choking.
"She really believes it," Zach said again, slowly, like he was convincing not just them—but himself. "It's not just a fear. It's the story she tells herself, and right now, she thinks she wrote the ending."
Because this wasn't simply needing some space.
"I already checked every coffee shop she likes. Even the ones she doesn't," Shelby said.
Zach reached for his jacket. "Okay, let's split up."
"Wait," Noah interrupted, holding a palm out. "We should think. I mean, she wasn't just upset. Which means impulsively running through Denver's most popular back alleys might not be the play."
Zach let the keys rest in his palm but didn't pocket them. A breath ticked out of him.
Shelby nodded. "She's not random when she spirals. She's precise. Logical, weirdly. We need to work backward."
"This is all because she thinks she's toxic?" Noah asked, carefully.
Shelby nodded. "She's said that before. That she poisons good relationships just by breathing near them."
Zach's throat dried instantly.
"She believes it," Shelby admitted.
"It's not only the belief in a curse," Zach added, quieter now. "It's her story. Every breakup, every wedding disaster in her past… it's real to her."
The urge to throw something climbed up Zach's arm.
Because he couldn't do a damn thing about any of this standing there in the shop. They needed to be out looking for her. Finding her.
"I'm gonna say something here that might make this worse." Noah ran his hand over his face. "But I'm going to say it anyway, because it needs to be said. And it might help."
Zach and Shelby both stared at him like he'd grown a second set of nostrils.
"Actually." Noah pulled out his phone. "I'm gonna loop in Tess."
He dialed the numbers and set his phone in the center of one of Zach's sewing tables, battered edges and pieces of thread still clinging to every crevice—because crisis theory always worked better with visual clutter.
Zach used a scrap of paper to start a timeline like it was a blueprint. He didn't have time to waste, but he trusted Noah. So, he rolled with it.
"Tess, hey," Noah said in an intimate kind of way that had the hairs on the back of Zach's neck prickling. "You're on speaker with me and Zach and Piper's roommate; I need you to tell Zach what you told me earlier. About the whole tabloid thing."
"Hey," Tess said, instantaneously in PR-crisis mode. "Yeah, of course. But I can't reach Piper. The photographer for the wedding isn't answering, and I want to counter all this with some reassuring dance floor photos. Is she there with you, too?"
"No," Zach said. "She's not here. She went dark. We're worried. She's got this idea that it's her fault somehow. It's a long story."
"Her parents fucked her up," Shelby said, matter-of-factly. "That's all you need to know."
"It's not her fault at all. It's my damn intern." Tess blew out a breath into the receiver.
Sorry, what?
"One of the interns figured the press would be watching the honeymoon and if there was a kiss or… something romantic between Anna and Drake, it would be good for image. Don't worry, we've discussed it. Not going to happen again."
"For fuck's sake," Zach muttered.
Tess hesitated. "It was supposed to be subtle. Carefully placed. Obviously, my team didn't pick the exact moment. The photographer went rogue, kind of."
"Apparently, this is standard PR practice." Noah pressed the end of his pen against his lips.
Tess hesitated, the line crackling with her exhale. "I didn't... It was a bad call. The intern's on coffee duty for a month, the photog's not gonna work with us again, and the oversight is mine. All mine. Damn, this is on me. Not her. How do we find her to tell her?"
Zach leaned into the phone, the knot in his chest loosening a fraction. This wasn't a blow-up. It was a pivot.
"Shelby's roommate intel says she holes up somewhere logical when she spirals." Noah turned the phone his direction.
"Like where?" Tess jumped in, hopefully her PR brain was whirring productively now. "Work? The venue? Somewhere tied to the wedding?"
Shelby piped up. "Holy crap, that gives me an idea. I think she'd go where no one would look, like back to the Falcon Hotel. Closure and all that."
"I still have contacts at most hotels downtown," Tess said after a moment. "I'll make some calls, see if she's checked in anywhere. And I'll..." Tess paused, then continued with renewed determination. "…drive around the wedding venue area. She might have gone back there to process."
"I'll meet you there," Noah said, already grabbing his keys like this was just another late-night prototype run.
"And I'll head back to our apartment," Shelby stood, zipping her hoodie with purpose. "Because that's where I'd go if I wanted to hide in plain sight."
"Yeah," Zach said, the plan snapping into place like a well-fitted waistband. "This is good. I'll hit up her office. Maybe she stopped there? Text the group chain. First one to spot her pings everyone."
Then he paused, because whether she was ready to accept it or not, Piper was family. And his family was something special.
That's why he texted the mass family group chat and filled them in.
His phone buzzed with a text chain exploding like a string of firecrackers.
Anna: Serious? We're freaking.
Drake: Dude. Honeymoon's fine. Pillow war. I'm wrong. Anna's right. But Tess f'd up big. Call me.
Jase: Heather and I are in for the search party.
Beeps and dings sounded as pings flooded in from the rest of the family.
Babushka sent the same panda emoji she always did, with absolutely zero context.
Everyone agreed on search points, and Zach pocketed his phone. Grabbed his coat.
He was going to find her.
Not to fix her.
To show up. To be there so she wasn't alone. And maybe, just maybe, to remind her that some seams don't need ripping because they're meant to hold.