Chapter 28
PIPER
The box was ridiculous.
It sat on the coffee table like a prop from a lifestyle influencer's dream reel—white glossy wrapping paper, elaborate gold foil flourishes curling like vines across the surface, and with a bow so big it could've auditioned for a Lexus holiday commercial.
Piper narrowed her eyes at it, arms crossed, because there was no reason for a gift today.
She took a cautious step closer. That bow. That wrapping. It had…intent.
Did she forget something? Was this a special Dvornakov holiday she should've penciled onto her calendar?
"Zach," she called, suspicion in each syllable. "Why is there a fairy godmother's personal gift box on our coffee table?"
He appeared from the kitchen, suspiciously casual in socked feet, holding a fresh latte from their espresso machine.
He glanced to the box like it had simply occurred to him to be incredibly thoughtful on a random Tuesday.
"Oh, that? Found it hanging around. Looks like it's for you." His voice practically hummed innocence.
Piper took the fresh coffee from him, glanced from the foam heart in her cup to the gift. "What'd you do?"
Zach's shrug was infuriatingly clean. "Early anniversary. Or random Tuesday. You pick."
He took a sip of his own drink and smirked like a man confident he wouldn't be murdered in his own home.
The box made the slightest crinkle when she touched it, as if warning her. She lifted the lid slowly, certain it would release butterflies or a puppy or something.
Nestled in layers of crisp tissue was a white linen dress with pink embroidered tulips. Nothing flashy, but something undeniably special.
The fabric was light as a sigh, with delicate ribbon straps and seams so graceful they curved inward like they already knew the shape of her. The fabric whispered against her fingers as she lifted it, and she caught herself holding her breath again.
Was this one of Zach's ideas, or had someone helped? She tried to picture him, earnest with his sewing machine while he stitched together the fabric. The idea made her smile.
Just once. Quiet, involuntary. She let out a little gasp she would totally deny later.
Beneath it, folded like a secret, were ballet flats. Ivory with more tiny tulips stitched across the toe.
Zach crouched beside her, all soft knees and cocky nerves, and said, "I got this," so quietly it might've been a joke.
But then he reached for her foot and gently slipped on one of the shoes like the floor was a ballroom and not a battlefield of laundry baskets and unfolded towels.
The fit? Unfair.
She looked down at him, blinking, mouth parted but no words arriving.
Because they had a work party to throw. Co-workers to impress. Potato salad to chill. And here he was, reenacting a fairy tale with bedhead.
The backyard party was just a little thing for the end of wedding season.
Fine. She wore the dress.
All day.
She floated through all the errands and folding and prep lists while swatting away Zach's smugness every time he caught her smoothing the fabric like she couldn't believe it was real.
But then she got caught up with Babushka at the gourmet market, and by the time she finally showed up for final touches, it was almost time for the guests to arrive.
She stepped outside.
And the moment her foot touched the deck, she stopped.
There it stood.
The arch.
Twined in tulips with tulle catching the breeze.
Piper didn't say anything. Neither did her heart. That sucker skipped, like it suddenly had stage fright.
The fairy lights were twinkling against dusk like champagne stars. The flowers felt a little too intentional, the chairs arranged in two shockingly symmetrical rows around a path lined in petals. There was even a string quartet setting up. This wasn't a Bluetooth speaker with a wedding playlist.
There was Borodinsky set out next to a vodka-serving ice sculpture that could be qualified as a religious experience. The chocolate three-tiered cake was somehow both whimsical and Martha Stewart-certified.
And off to the right, the Dvornakov's legendary Tablitsa Sud'by stood proud beneath its obligatory sign.
Babushka bee-lined to the champagne flutes, wearing a grin that looked entirely too pleased with itself.
She paused near the Borodinsky and clapped twice, sharp as a starter pistol. "Vhere is the salt? You vant bad luck for marriage? Bring the salt here by Borodinsky. Eto katastrofa."
She adjusted an orchid centerpiece with brisk authority, then pulled a small square of embroidered cloth from her pocket. With uncharacteristic tenderness, she spread it over the corner of the main table.
“Vedding destiny," Babushka muttered, patting the cloth, eyes momentarily far away. "Tablitsa Sud'by always knows." Then she snapped back. "You. Vhere is salt? I asked for salt. No salt, no soul."
Piper blinked. Her feet refused to move.
Zach was leaning against the edge of the porch, now in a light-gray suit and white shirt, no tie. He didn't say anything right away. He slid his hands into his pockets, smile easy, eyes locked on her like she hung the damn moon.
She squinted. "What is this?"
Zach stepped closer, head tilting, voice warm as his gaze. "It's a wedding. Ours. If you're in. If you're not, then it's just a party."
Her mouth fell open. Somewhere behind her, Shelby made a choked sound that sounded suspiciously like a squeal.
Piper turned to glance to where her bestie stood with junior-event planner Abigail. "You were both in on this?"
They nodded. Then Shelby set down her drink long enough to root through her purse for her phone, muttering about the angle of natural lighting, but already snapping photos.
Piper's jaw worked soundlessly for a beat while her brain recalibrated. Because it was one thing to joke about surprise weddings. A whole different thing when the man you love made you a custom dress... and then gave you his forever in front of a Tablitsa Sud'by.
"You planned a wedding without me?" she asked.
"I had to," Zach said, shrugging. "You didn't want to."
She let out a stunned laugh, hands flying to her face. "Oh my God."
A lazy Sunday flashed in her memory. That morning months ago, sunlight slanting across the rumpled sheets, her head on his chest, the kind of morning that felt like it could last forever. She'd looked up at him and said with a sleepy smile, "When we get married, let's elope with a basket of tacos."
He'd laughed, warm and amused, but the way he'd looked at her lingered like a fingerprint. Quietly intense, like he was saving that moment for something.
"Also, I would like the extra bonus points I deserve because I handmade your wedding dress," Zach said with a grin.
This dress, with its careful details and delicate weight, felt worlds away from the cluttered Pinterest boards she'd made for the first weddings she’d planned. Those were weddings that happened to other people.
"Bonus points granted," she assured.
"It's legal. It's catered. And I present to you… zero doves," Zach continued.
That sealed it.
She surged forward, wrapping her arms around him before launching herself straight into what was, apparently, her wedding day.
Zach's family was all there. Even her parents and her sister showed up. Zach said he made them swear to be on good behavior. But honestly, she didn't care. Today was about her and Zach, not about them.
Guests arrived and trickled into the rows—even the D.I.C.K. crew showed up. Including Morty. Piper slipped Abigail aside to ensure she kept him and Babushka as far apart as possible.
That potential drama aside, the funeral directors had become more than clients to Piper. They were friends.
And they still refused to change their acronym. They liked it so it stayed.
The conference, for the record, was amazing and Piper was already working on the next one.
Babushka dabbed tears from both cheeks with a lace hanky that might've been passed down from the Romanovs. Probably.
Her mom stood by her sister with the rest of the Dvornakovs. And Piper held a bouquet of tulips that wasn't remotely wilting. Marrying into a family of florists did have its privileges.
Piper's dad took her hand gently as they stood at the start of the aisle. With a chuckle, he whispered, "Why do melons have weddings?"
"I have no idea," Piper said.
"Because they cantaloupe." He chuckled at his own joke.
Piper grinned. Then he scanned Piper's face, pride shining bright. "I still remember when you insisted on wearing your superhero cape to preschool every day. We knew then you were something special, but we couldn't have known how amazing you'd truly become."
"Dad…"
He squeezed her arm. "Let's go. We've got a long walk to get through."
He and her mom were dating.
Piper just stayed out of it. Someday those two deserved their own happily ever after. But it wasn't her job to plan or to coordinate.
Right before they reached the front, he leaned close and whispered, "The wedding is always my favorite part. There's so much happiness."
Piper gulped. "Zach's my favorite part. Same reason."
Brek stood at the end of the aisle with Zach. He'd actually asked if he could be their officiant.
Aspen assured Piper that he was legit and had been ordained by an internet church. She checked. Twice.
He mentioned something about coming full circle from helping Aspen out in a pinch a long time ago by planning some weddings, to being the one to hold all the power at the end of the aisle.
He wasn't wearing a suit, but the black jeans weren't ripped, and his tattoos were barely visible under the sleeves of his black Henley. Honestly, Piper didn't care. She was only looking at Zach.
Brek cleared his throat. "You want traditional vows or your own?"
Piper glanced sideways to her almost husband. His eyes met hers like a vow that this one was totally her call.
"Our own," she said tenderly.
Her voice didn't shake. Somehow, it didn't shake.
"I never thought there'd be a wedding I'd want to attend," Piper began, her grip on her flowers loose and relaxed. "And then… you happened. You made space in my life I didn't know I needed. You saw every gross piece of me and still thought I was magic."
Zach swallowed. "Because you are."
She choked up at that.
"And you," he said when it was his turn, voice thick but steady, "you walked into my life and ruined all my plans in the best possible way. One minute, you're tripping on my keys and stepping in a wad of gum. The next? You're my forever."
They finished the ceremony with a kiss that came with cheers. Noah clapped the loudest from his spot beside Zach, and Shelby whistled one of those loud whistles that people do using their two fingers, their lips, and some kind of witchcraft.
It was flawless.
The reception unfolded in their backyard beneath glittering bulbs and a surprisingly competent string quartet who pivoted mid-song to a cover of "Sweet Child O' Mine."
Noah's toast was long, meandering, and involved a metaphor about denim elasticity that no one fully understood, but everyone clapped politely anyway.
Tess, who had given up on the Stallions to go work with Noah and Zach, was never one to miss an opportunity. She was already brainstorming with Zach about a limited-run of bridal-themed Wild Sacks lace boxers embroidered with Just Married in glitter thread.
Piper raised one eyebrow. "Back. Off."
Tess winked. "Tomorrow, then?"
Zach chuckled. Noah draped his arm protectively around Tess—which was something that Piper was seriously going to take some time to get used to.
Midway through the fourth dance of the night, Zach pulled her close. His breath brushed her ear when he whispered, "You like it?"
And Piper, already head-over-heels for the perfect wedding day, tilted her face up to him and whispered back, "It's the best plan ever."