Page 34 of Catastrophically Yours
Over dessert, they slipped into their usual easy banter, Brian teasing Piper about her new label-making addiction while Drew defended her "organized chaos" approach to songwriting. The sibling dynamic had expanded naturally to include Drew, creating a family feeling that Piper had never experienced but found herself craving.
When Janet called during coffee, Piper automatically put the phone on speaker so Drew could join the conversation.
"How's the album coming along, girls?" Janet's voice carried genuine interest and pride.
"Drew's being a perfectionist," Piper said.
"Piper's being too logical," Drew countered.
"Sounds like you're both doing exactly what you should," Janet laughed. "When do we get to hear the finished product?"
"Spring," they said in unison, then exchanged glances that made Brian roll his eyes dramatically.
"You're both disgusting," he informed them. "But Mom, you should see their setup here. It's like a real recording studio, except with more cat hair."
Saturday morning brought their appointment at Riverside Studios, a small but professional facility that Piper had researched extensively and fit perfectly within their carefully planned budget. Drew tested the acoustics while Piper negotiated rates with the engineer, their complementary skills evident in how smoothly the business side progressed.
"The isolation booth has great natural reverb," Drew called out, strumming a few chords.
"And the hourly rate includes basic mixing," Piper noted, reviewing the contract terms. "Plus they'll give us the raw files for our own archive."
The engineer, a woman in her fifties with silver-streaked hair and knowing eyes, watched their interaction with amusement. "You two work well together. Not all artistic partnerships translate to the practical side."
"Piper keeps me grounded," Drew said, emerging from the booth with guitar in hand.
"Drew keeps me dreaming," Piper said, then felt her cheeks warm at admitting something so revealing.
"Four days in February," the engineer confirmed, shaking hands with both of them. "I think we're going to create something special."
That evening, they fell into their usual routine—Drew playing guitar softly while Piper worked on client files, Pickle sprawled across both their laps like a furry bridge connecting their separate activities. The comfortable parallel existence they'd developed allowed for individual focus while maintaining connection, each aware of the other's presence without requiring constant attention.
"Listen to this," Drew said, playing a progression that made Piper look up from her laptop.
"That's beautiful. New song?"
"Maybe. The melody came to me while you were doing that terrifying mathematical thing with the tax software."
"Terrifying?" Piper closed the laptop, giving Drew her full attention.
"You get this little line between your eyebrows when you're really concentrating. It's adorable, but I always worry you're going to strain something."
Piper reached up to touch her forehead self-consciously. "I had no idea I did that."
"I notice everything about you," Drew said simply, continuing to play. "Like how you always organize your coffee cups with the handles facing the same direction, and how you hum along when you think I'm not paying attention."
"I don't hum along."
"You absolutely hum along. Quietly, like you're afraid someone might notice you enjoying yourself too much."
Heat colored Piper's cheeks. "That's ridiculous."
"It's gorgeous," Drew corrected, transitioning into a melody Piper recognized as one of their Blue Moon arrangements. "Everything about you is gorgeous, especially when you stop trying to control it."
Later, as they got ready for bed, Drew traced lazy patterns on Piper's arm while discussing how her music had evolved since living together.
"I used to write from loneliness," Drew admitted in the darkness. "Every song was about wanting something I didn't have, or missing something I'd lost. But lately..."
"Lately?"
