Page 17 of Catastrophically Yours
"Well, well." Sadie's familiar voice cut through the moment like a blade. "This is interesting."
Drew's head snapped up to find her best friend standing near their improvised stage, coffee cup in hand and sharp eyes taking in every detail of the scene. Sadie's gaze moved between Drew and Piper with the calculating intensity of someone reading between lines.
Heat flooded Drew's cheeks as she became suddenly aware of how intimate the musical moment had been. How close she'd leaned toward Piper, how their eyes had locked during the crescendo, how perfectly their styles had meshed despite never playing together before.
"Sadie." Drew's voice came out higher than intended. "I didn't expect to see you here this morning."
"Clearly." Sadie approached with the predatory grace of a protective big sister. "Are you going to introduce me to your piano partner?"
The emphasis on 'partner' carried enough weight to flatten a building. Drew scrambled to her feet, nearly dropping Luna in the process. "Piper, this is Sadie, my best friend. Sadie, this is Piper. My..." She faltered, suddenly unsure how to finish that sentence. Roommate seemed insufficient after what had just happened between them.
"The accountant." Sadie's tone suggested she was cataloguing every detail for future interrogation. She extended a hand to Piper, who had risen from the piano bench with her usual composed grace, though pink still colored her cheeks.
"Sadie." Piper shook the offered hand with professional politeness. "Drew's mentioned you."
"I'm sure she has." Sadie's smile was sharp enough to cut glass. She settled into a nearby chair without invitation, clearly planning to stay. "So, Piper. I had no idea you were musically inclined."
The moment shattered completely under Sadie's scrutiny. Piper stepped back from the piano, her walls snapping back into place so quickly Drew felt the loss like physical cold.
"I'm not, really," she said, gathering her composure around herself like a blazer. "Just fooling around."
But Drew had seen her face during the music. Had felt the way their playing intertwined with startling intimacy. Whatever that had been, it was the opposite of fooling around.
Her phone buzzed from across the café, still lying on their table beside Piper's laptop. Chris's deadline. The showcase decision. The choice between her past patterns and whatever uncertain future stretched ahead.
Looking between Piper's carefully neutral expression and Sadie's protective suspicion, Drew realized the decision had already made itself. She knew what real musical partnership felt like now. She knew the difference between compromise and collaboration.
She knew she was in serious trouble where Piper Novak was concerned.
EIGHT
THE WEIGHT OF NUMBERS
The insistent buzzing of Piper's phone cut through the last lingering notes of their improvisation like a blade. Drew's hand, still resting near hers on the piano keys, felt the immediate tension that seized Piper's entire body when she glanced at the caller ID.
"Mom." The word escaped as barely a whisper, but Drew caught the shift in Piper's tone—from the warm, unguarded woman who'd just created something beautiful with her to the controlled, careful daughter always braced for the next crisis.
"I should take this." Piper's fingers were already sliding away from the keys, leaving Drew's hand suddenly cold against the ivory.
"Of course." Drew watched through the window as Piper stepped onto the Blue Moon's small patio, phone pressed to her ear. Even from here, she could see the rigid set of Piper's shoulders, the way her free hand moved to her temple as if warding off a headache.
Marcus appeared beside the piano bench, wiping down glasses with practiced efficiency. "That piano hasn't sounded that good in months," he said, genuine appreciation warming his voice. "You two make quite a team."
"Yeah." Drew's eyes remained fixed on Piper's silhouette beyond the glass. "We do."
Outside, Piper's conversation continued, punctuated by long pauses that Drew instinctively knew meant bad news. The easy magic of their musical moment felt fragile now, ready to shatter against reality.
When Piper finally returned, her face had resumed its familiar mask of composed efficiency, but Drew had learned to read the subtle tells—the slight tightness around her eyes, the way her fingers drummed against her phone case.
"Everything okay?" Drew asked, though the answer was written in every line of Piper's posture.
"Fine." The response came too quickly, too bright. "Just family stuff. Nothing I can't handle."
Drew nodded, recognizing the deflection for what it was. She'd used similar phrases countless times when Chris had asked about overdue bills or eviction notices.Nothing I can't handlewas often code foreverything's falling apart, but I don't want to burden you with it.
They gathered their things in companionable silence, the easy intimacy of moments before now wrapped in Piper's renewed guardedness. Drew wanted to ask, to offer whatever help she could, but she also understood the weight of pride. Sometimes the kindest thing was to wait.
The next morning brought autumn's first real bite, sharp enough to fog Drew's breath as she walked Pickle around the block before Piper's run. The cat had developed an unfortunate attachment to Piper's morning routine, positioning himself by the door and yowling pitifully until Drew agreed to the early walk.
