14. Piper
fourteen
piper
Simmer Down, Tony Soprano
“ P iper,” Dev’s mom, Claire, whispers my name, her frail hands clutching mine as she stares at me with the kind of adoration I feel unworthy of. Her pale blue eyes might look weary, but there’s a kindness and understanding behind them that I haven’t seen in anyone else’s besides perhaps my own mother’s.
A handkerchief adorned with red and pink roses is tied around Claire’s head, concealing what I’m sure is a surgical scar and thin hair, but even so, her beauty is unmistakable.
And despite reminding myself to stay strong, to not think about the fact that this woman, my soon-to-be mother-in-law, is not going to be alive in a few short months, all I can think about is how shitty it is that the world will lose her all too soon.
I hardly know her, but within point-five seconds of meeting her, I’ve figured out that she’s special. Some people just have that kind of pull, an aura and light that no disease, not even death itself, can diminish. And Dev’s mom is amongst those beautiful souls.
Returning her smile, I linger just inside the threshold of her home, conflicted with the guilt of betraying her trust alongside her son. But the absolute joy shining in her eyes quells some of my turmoil.
You’re doing this to give her peace; to make her last wish come true. Put on your best performance and do this for not just her, but for the man beside you.
In Claire, I catch glimpses of Dev, but it’s the man standing behind her—tall, proud, with dark eyes as sharp as a hawk’s—who unmistakably mirrors Dev.
He offers his large hand for a shake. “Piper. I’m Deepak, Dev’s father.” He glances at his son. “Dev has been quite tight-lipped about the two of you, but we’re glad to finally meet you.”
I take his hand in mine briefly, noting his assessing gaze sizing me up. “Thank you for inviting me to your beautiful home. It’s good to meet you, too.”
Hurried footsteps resound from the staircase a second later, and we all turn to look at a little girl who could only be Dev’s sister, Deena, based on not only her resemblance to him but the lively personality he described her to be.
She waves, looking from Dev to me. “Hi!”
Dev places his palm at the base of my spine. “Deena, this is Piper. Piper, my pain in the neck little sister, Deena.”
Deena makes a face at him. “Pain in the neck? I thought I was a pain in your butt, which is a title I worked hard for, thank you very much.”
Dev scoffs. “Pretty sure you’ve never had to work very hard to earn that title. You were born with it.”
“Whatever,” Deena huffs. “Just for that, I’m not letting you have any of my new temporary tattoos.”
“Oh no.” Dev places a hand on his chest, feigning hurt. “How will I ever survive?”
She squints at him before turning to me. “Are you sure you want to marry my annoying brother? No one would blame you if you decided to run. ”
I giggle, looking from her to Dev. “Oh, I don’t know. I think I’m going to stick it out for now.”
Dev shrugs, holding out the drink we’d stopped by at a restaurant to buy her before heading here. “Well, I guess I’ll just throw away this boba tea, then. You know, since I’m so annoying ?—”
“No!” She rushes to him, taking the cup from his hand and giving him a quick hug. “I was just kidding. What I meant to say was Piper is so lucky to be marrying you.”
Dev chuckles as Claire gives the two of them an admonishing look. “Deena, didn’t we talk about not having so much sugar? And you definitely can’t have it before dinner.”
Deena frowns down at the drink in her hand, her eyes hopeful. “But you wouldn’t want me to waste this, would you? I’ll wait to have it after dinner. Promise, Mom.”
Claire shakes her head, taking a defeated breath. “Fine.”
Wrapping her hand around the crook of my elbow, she gently leads me past the large sitting area, with Dev, Deena, and their father following behind us. We walk down a large corridor lined with their family pictures, and I smile at a particular one of a younger Dev holding his infant sister in his arms, to an equally massive kitchen where a couple of people I assume are staff bustle around, focused on their tasks.
As expected, though quite different from Dev’s modern home, his parents’ place is enormous, with sprawling ceilings, large staircases, and wall-to-wall windows on one side of the kitchen overlooking a beautiful rose garden.
The aromas inside the kitchen do nothing to ease the nervous energy fluttering inside me as I settle into a chair Dev pulls out for me. My mind races, rapidly answering questions his parents haven’t even asked yet, while my heart pounds, hoping I don’t screw up playing my part.
Dev takes his place beside me, his thigh brushing against mine, calming some of my nerves, even while it sends a thrill down my spine.
Does he feel that, too? That jolt of electricity?
Clearing his throat, he casually picks up my hand, gently grazing his thumb over my knuckles, sending goosebumps soaring over my arms.
When I turn to meet his gaze, peering at him from under my lashes, something flickers in his eyes. Is that . . . affection?
Of course it’s not.
It’s pretend.
A performance and a production.
Sure, our conversation in the car—you know, the one where I asked him to fuck me—was interrupted prematurely by my dad’s text message, but let’s be real. My fiancé practically stopped breathing at my question, as if the thought itself was the most repulsive and scary thing he’d ever had to face.
God, this is all getting so confusing. Not because I don’t know my role in this, but because somewhere over the past couple of weeks, my heart’s forgotten that it was never supposed to get involved.
I’m just about to lean over to tell him to forget about my temporary bout of insanity when Dev’s parents join us, sitting together on the chairs in front of me and Dev. His dad pulls a blanket over Claire’s lap before placing a tender kiss on her temple, while Dev’s sister settles herself on the chair at the end, eyeing her boba tea wistfully.
“Did you grow up in the Bay Area, Piper?” Claire asks, her voice sounding more tired than just five minutes ago.
I shake my head. “Actually, I grew up outside of Boston. I moved here several years ago with two of my best friends from high school.”
Deepak’s brow rises. “That’s quite the long move. Is most of your family still back in Boston, then?”
“My brother and sister-in-law, along with my nephew, still live there. My brother’s a defenseman for the Boston Bolts NHL team, actually. And my mom now lives in Tampa with her husband.”
Deepak’s intense gaze stays on me. “And your dad? Where does he live?”
Reaching for my glass, I take a sip of water, hoping to give myself a moment to come up with an answer that doesn’t sound like, “I don’t actually care where the fuck my dad is, but he did just try to contact me and I’m still unsettled about that.”
Placing the glass back down, I give him a placid smile and a version of the truth. “I don’t know. My parents separated when my brother and I were teens, and I eventually lost touch with him.”
I leave off the nitty-gritty details, like the fact that I blocked his number after he verbally berated me for being a dumb piece of shit and a complete disappointment , that he’s a has-been NHL player himself who still thinks his children owe him for giving them life, or that he left my mother for his coach’s young daughter, only to then end up alone after she left him several years later.
I’m trying to make a good impression on my future in-laws, not leave them thinking their son is marrying into a family saga fit for a reality show.
Dev and I exchange a look, and I glimpse an understanding in his eyes, even though I hadn’t shared much about my parents with him. But then my mind floats back to our “conversation” in his car on our way here when my fiancé went all sexy mafia don and threatened to unalive whoever had texted me. The funny thing is, aside from my expression, I hadn’t revealed anything about the text to him, but somehow he’d sensed I was anxious.
Still, I’d had to reel him in, given I wasn’t ready to tell him about my lunatic dad, who was likely drunk off his ass somewhere.
“Simmer down, Tony Soprano, it’s no one you have to worry about.”
His eyes had flicked back to the phone in my hand. “Then why do you look like your pet fish just died?”
I blinked at him. “Firstly, I was sad when Scarlett Johansson accidentally slipped into the garbage disposal when my brother was changing out her water. I still hold it against him, almost two decades later, because there’s not a betta fish alive that could replace her. She was fast and furious, focused and fun.” My throat had felt tight at the memory of poor Scarlett flapping around in the disposal. “I realize that’s a lot of F-words but ? —”
“Piper.”
“And secondly, I really don’t like that idiom one bit. It’s insensitive to aquarists.”
“Okay.” Dev took a breath so long, you’d think he was trying to inflate one of those tubular balloons in one shot. “Will you please just tell me if someone is bothering you? If you’re in trouble in any way, I need to ? —”
“I’m not in trouble, and no one is bothering me,” I said, hitting the button to block my father’s number. “Now can we please just get going so that we’re not making your parents wait any longer than they have already?”
Thankfully, he hadn’t pushed any further, and we moved on to align our “story” to avoid any mix-ups in front of his parents, which is why I’m well-prepared to answer the upcoming question from his mother.
“Families are complicated,” Claire says with the same look of understanding as her son. “But Dev tells us you’re a hairstylist. Is that how you two met?”
Nodding, I flash her a smile. “Dev came to my salon about a year ago and just loved what I could do with a pair of scissors.” I suppress a giggle, knowing Dev is probably trying to hold back a groan. “He was so smitten by his new haircut, in fact, he asked me to be his girlfriend. ”
Claire’s face lights up while Deepak eyes his son suspiciously. “Didn’t you walk in here a couple of weeks ago with half your hair hacked off?”
A nervous laugh erupts from my lips because Dev and I hadn’t aligned on this little tidbit, unfortunately, but I decide to take the lead on improvising an explanation.
“Oh well, you see, that was just me trying to modernize your handsome son here.” I pat Dev’s shoulder enthusiastically while he shoots me a mildly worried look. “You know, staying ahead of the trends, shake things up a bit. I suggested he try it for a day, but clearly, it wasn’t his style and I fixed him right up.” I wink at the man in question. “Didn’t I, babe?”
Dev nods, his gaze unwavering from my face and his hand tightening around mine. “You sure did, babe . You have a knack for keeping me on my toes.”
My eyes inadvertently slide down to his plush lips before I remember where we are. Shaking off my distraction, I turn back to face my to-be in-laws with a smile.
We’re midway through dinner, chatting about our wedding—set to be held in Dev’s mother’s beloved rose garden—when Deepak wipes his mouth with his dinner napkin and fixes me with another intense stare that shifts the easy air in the room.
From the little he’s spoken throughout dinner, it’s clear he isn’t much of a talker. Or maybe he just hasn’t warmed up to me. With what I’ve read about him, given Dev has shared about as much about his father as I have with him about mine, Deepak raised his children much like he’s run his businesses, with a firm hand.
“As you must already know, Piper,” he starts, his brow rising, “our son holds several degrees from prestigious institutions, can speak several languages fluently, and has always been dedicated to learning and achieving. Our family very much values education. So, aside from cosmetology school,” his voice hints at derision, though I can’t be sure, “what other form of education do you have?”
“Deepak.” Dev’s mom shoots her husband a sharp look, clearly picking up his tone while the sound of Deena slurping the last bit of her boba tea fills the room. We all glance at her, but she’s completely focused on sucking up the last tapioca ball through her straw.
I’m just about to speak when Dev interjects, intertwining our fingers again.
“Let me start by saying that Piper is a business owner, not unlike the two of us, Dad. And while we might hold business degrees, Piper has built an incredibly successful and unique business practically on her own. So, as much as you might expect that of me, I’m not looking for a trophy wife to parade around for her fancy degrees. I’m marrying Piper for a hell of a lot more.”
His eyes linger on mine. “Not only is she beautiful, intelligent, charming, and hilarious, but she has a personality that could power the entire city. And beyond all that, she’s authentic to a fault, and kind, even when she doesn’t have to be.” His voice softens. “There’s no other woman I’d rather have by my side.”
My heart skips a beat.
Damn, his acting skills are top-notch! Maybe he has a theater degree too, along with all his other fancy degrees, because I almost believed that!
The thing is, despite my ex making me feel like shit about not pursuing a formal education, and my father repeatedly telling me I’d never amount to anything throughout my formative years, I’m proud of how far I’ve come through sheer determination and hard work. But I won’t deny it feels good to hear Dev’s emphatic words, even if his feelings for me aren’t real.
Clearing my throat, I find my voice again. “I think you forgot the best part about being with me . . . free haircuts for life.”
Dinner proves to be more activity than Claire can handle in one evening, so once the plates have been cleared, Dev and I offer to help her back to her room. Exhaustion lines her features, but a glimmer of gratitude sparkles inside her blue eyes when we settle her into her bed.
I quietly fill the empty glass on her nightstand with water while Dev fluffs the pillow behind her, his movements both careful and deliberate, as if focusing on his task is the only thing keeping him from breaking down. But despite his composed exterior, his eyes betray his inner anguish, and my chest tightens at the sight of the pain he thinks he can hide.
Claire reaches for my hand, silently tapping the spot next to her, urging me to take a seat. When I do, she takes my hand in hers, her touch tender as she brushes my empty ring finger with her thumb.
Her brows knit in confusion when her gaze wanders to the other side of her room, where Dev is drawing her curtains. “You didn’t give it to her yet?”
Turning around, Dev’s gaze finds our intertwined hands before he sees the puzzled look on my face. “I planned to do it today.”
The corners of Claire’s mouth curve upward. “Do you have it with you?”
Dev nods, pulling out a small velvet box from his pocket as he saunters toward us, his warm gaze trained on me. Even the way the man walks has my breaths unsteady. There’s no way that can be healthy for me long term .
It’s only when he kneels in front of me, revealing a sparkling solitaire in a vintage setting, that I realize what’s happening and my hands come together in prayer at my lips. Forget the unsteady breaths from earlier, my breathing has now come to a halt.
I rise to my feet, blinking rapidly at the man before me on one knee. “Oh, my God.”
“Peter,” he whispers. “There hasn’t been a moment since the day I met you that I haven’t wanted you to have this. But since it’s my mother’s engagement ring, I thought I’d ask you officially while she was—” His voice falters momentarily as emotions threaten to overwhelm him before he composes himself, unwilling to vocalize the previous thought. “Will you marry me?”
Tears gather in my eyes as I look from Dev to Claire, finding love and encouragement in her nod. And while those tears shouldn’t be real, and my heart shouldn’t feel this heavy, everything about this moment is nothing but.
And so, without analyzing it for what it is or isn’t, I slide off the bed to kneel in front of him. My chin trembles and a sense of pride and anguish collides inside me.
Wrapping my hands around his neck, I brush my thumbs over his scruffed jaw, peering into the eyes of the man I’m promising myself to—a man who’d literally do anything for the ones he loves—knowing I’ll be walking away in due time.
“Are you sure?” I rasp, feeling a tear splash over.
His eyes hold mine in a moment that feels like a promise. A promise I know he has no intention of keeping. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my entire life.”
And before I even know how the next moment will unfold, I lean forward, doing something I haven’t done in well over a decade— kiss someone —and murmur my answer against his lips, “Yes.”