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“A badass,” she says a little louder. I squeeze her shoulder.
“That’s better. Now, for the love of all things holy, don’t spend your first day trying to fit into whatever tiny little box you’ve made for WHG Piper.” She looks up at me, and suddenly there’s water pooling in her eyes, and oh no - “Jesus, don’t cry.” I squeeze her shoulders again, because all I want to do is hug her, but the last thing I need is for anyone here to think we can’t work together without being professional. “Piper.”
“Sorry.” She gives a watery laugh, snagging a tissue from a nearby table and holding it to the corner of each eye. “I needed that. I’ve been so nervous all day.”
“There’s nothing to be nervous about. They’re going to love you just as much as I do.” Her smile dials up about ten notches, and I make a mental note to add more sugary sweet, doting phrases, because she clearly thrives off them. We make our way to the elevator, and when the door closes, she reaches out, grabbing my hand.
“Thank you.” I nod, giving her fingers a squeeze.
“You think that was good, you should hang out with my sister more often.” She looks at me, brows furrowed. “She and Seer and Jasmine have this weird thing I saw them do a few weeks back, apparently it’s something they started in college.” I tip my eyes toward the ceiling of the elevator, shaking my head at the memory. “They set a timer, and for, like, a minute, all of them give one person as much praise as they can handle.” Piper looks impressed.
“It’s like a snap cup,” she says confidently, and I’m immediately lost. She rolls her eyes, squeezing my hand and snapping with the other one. “You know,We'll find harmony and love in the old snap cup!” Her singing is so off-key, I wince, and she’s smacking my arm just as the elevator doors open, revealing Frannie and Dad.
“I knew I liked this one.” Frannie laces her arm through Piper’s. “What did he do this time?”
“He didn’t get my Legally Blonde reference,” Piper says, as if I’ve set off nuclear bombs on the whole of Europe. Dad and I share a look behind them. “I need to know more about your super special praise time.” Frannie pauses, looking confused.
“The thing you were doing with Jas and Seer the other day in your office,” I add, and then realization crosses her features.
“Oh, the snaps,” she says, her tone understanding, and Piper just throws me a look over her shoulder like I’m a complete idiot. “Also known as high praises, because Mateo refuses to call it snaps.”
“Understandably.” My voice is low, but Frannie cuts me a look.
“I see why you hit him.” I shake my head.
“I’ve made a grave mistake.” We step outside into the blazing Texas heat, and I’m thankful that in about a minute, I’ll be back in the air conditioning, but as we’re crossing the street, I add “Seer’s not working today, right?”
Frannie laughs. “Of course she is, I let her know we’re on our way in. She’s in the kitchen today.” I bite my lips together, but Dad speaks for me.
“Is the grave mistake putting together a group full of women who know all the places to hit you where it hurts?” I nod. Hit the nail right on the head. He holds the door open for Fran and Piper, and I grab it above his head, letting him sneak in front of me. “Welcome to being a Westfall man. We like stubborn women, and have daughters even more stubborn.”
“Hey,” both women call over their shoulders, and I shake my head, trying to clear the thought of a tiny, blue eyed, curly red haired child kicking the shit out of me the way Aria did to Brett.
Chapter 60
Piper
“Sorry,sorry,sorry,”Icry, pushing into the bridal suite at the Pine with my garment bag over my shoulder, an arm full of tote bags held out in front of me. “Bex decided to sneak into a bag of tortilla chips this morning, I had to drop her off at my parents before I came this way.” Across the room, Carla meets my gaze.
“Those were my tortilla chips.”
“I’ll buy you new ones tomorrow.” I huff out a deep breath as I dump the bags on the table in the center of the room, and immediately, Carla reaches her greedy little hands into the one she knows all my presents are sitting in. “Ah, ah, ah.” I swat at her hand.
“Boo.” Fallon meets my gaze in the mirror she’s sitting in front of, curling her hair, and I feel like I’m backstage on opening night of the school musical again.
Except, then, I’d spent every day seeing the same old faces, over and over again, miserable. I haven’t seen these people in ten years - haven’t shared updates outside of the women in this room - well, women, plus Vic, who’s helping Jackie with her makeup. But the flutters are the same. The weight on my shoulders feels palpable as I stick the garment bag on a rolling rack, pulling the dress out to let it hang free.
“We may need to steam a few things.” Jessica is talking more to herself as she pushes into the room, holding a cream table runner. “These are still all wrinkly.” She stops when she sees me, and grins. “Girl, oh, my God.” She drops the runner on a small table near the door, coming up to clutch both of my arms, like we’re two best friends about to have a gossip. “You and Fitz?”
Ok, I guess we are about to have a gossip. I stare over Jessica’s shoulder at my roommate, who shrugs, taking a bite of the sandwich she was munching on when I left several hours ago to get the bags she’d left sitting on our kitchen counter.
“I didn’t even have to tell her.” Carla’s voice is blase as she scrolls through her phone, probably texting Dylan. “His tagged pictures did all the talking for him.” I close my eyes. Well, shit. I hadn’t even thought about that, thought about the implication of those pictures and not completely blasting to the world that Piper and Fitz were not only together, but had stared lovingly into each other’s eyes in a public space. One shocker at a time, ya know?
“Those pictures,” Jessica squeals, gripping my arms tighter. “You should have heard the way I screamed to - oh, perfect timing.” She watches as a woman backs in through the door, balancing a tray of what looks like bagged favors on a clearly pregnant belly.
“Hey, babe, I’m not sure-"
She freezes, mid step, staring between Jessica and I, before setting the tray down on top of the table runner and putting her hands on her hips in what I’m sure is exactly what this woman will look like when that child misbehaves. “Well, let me guess, you must be Piper.” Her voice is all sugary sweet southern charm, and I shake loose one of Jessica’s hands, pointing between the two of them.
