Page 42 of The Marriage Narrative
What.
She’d never seen that man in anything that didn’t have long sleeves. He filled out all his shirts as if they’d been tailored to his exact measurements. Broad shoulders, wide chest, strong arms…
Something else caught her eye—a distinct, thin dark line curved around the crook of his right arm. Jordan had a tattoo.
Her thoughts slipped straight into a spiral: What did it look like how big was it howmanydid he have??? If someone walked up to her and asked about it, she wouldn’t know what to say. He’d never told her about it! She’d never seen him naked! What kind of wife didn’t know about her husband’s tattoo?!
“Zinnia?”
She held her breath as she looked at his amused face.
“Where did you go?”
Breathe, just breathe.“Nowhere. I’m here. I’m paying attention.”
“No, you weren’t.” He laughed warmly. “Unlike earlier, Icantell when I lose you.”
“Mmm, no. You justthinkyou can.” She tried to squash that failure feeling coiling in her stomach the only way she knew how.
“I think you’re severely underestimating me. I pay attention to you, Zinnia.”
The intense look in his eyes silenced her comeback before she even had a chance to think of one. Somehow, he always managed to disarm her in the exact way she didn’t know she’d been missing, saying the exact thing she didn’t know she needed to hear.
Being watched and paying attention weren’t the same thing.
She recovered, naturally, ready to put him back on his toes for the camera. “Does that mean you watch me sleep too?”
His indulgent grin appeared as readily as she’d hoped. “Still working my way up to that, actually. I’m a heavy sleeper. There isn’t much that can wake me up before I’m ready.”
“You also snore.”
“You know, everyone always tells me about that. Like I’m supposed to care or something.”
Her laugh was cut short by another glass loudly crashing into the ground.
“My bad,” Wylie called out.
They exchanged a look and got started. Zinnia poured the grenadine base without any issues. Creating a thin orange layer with the pineapple juice on top of it was trickier than it seemed.
“Your hands are steady, which is half the battle.” Jordan demonstrated the technique again. “You have to slow down. Let the spoon do the work.”
He was standing right next to her, supervising over her shoulder, but he was also, inexplicably, under her skin.
His body heat burned through her cardigan. Every inhale was him—the striking combination of his lotion and cologne. Picking out individual notes felt impossible. They all blended together until the scent became uniquelyJordanin her mind.
Her concentration never stood a chance because part of her was fixated on him at all times anyway. Where he was, what he was doing, if he was going to touch her—she had to be ready to look like she was in love without knowing the first thing about it.
She recognized it on TV and in movies, with her friends and her family. But how was it supposed to look on her?
FIONA:Whatever you do, don’t give friendzone vibes
ZINNIA:…what the fuck are those?
Because Zinnia loved her friends so deeply that even her parents asked if she was dating one or both of them. So, what was the difference? There obviously was one, since her friends fell in love with each otherwithouther.
Having a conversation about suspected polyamory with her very Christian, very supportive parents had been life-changing for an unexpected reason. As soon as she finished explaining,they immediately asked if she was dating anyone else. Didn’t she want to get married and have kids someday?
She realized she definitely wanted that first part. Later on, she decided she didn’t need to fall in love to have the life she wanted. It gave her the courage to try.
