Page 8 of The Marriage Narrative
He knew he was staring. He knew he needed to say something,anything, but she’d knocked the wind out of him. Common sense too.
“I’d love to have a tour,” she suggested helpfully. “If that’s okay? Jordan?”
“Yeah.” He cleared his throat and looked away. “Sorry about that. So, tour, yes. This way.”
Breaking out of his Zinnia-induced stupor was easier thought than done. He only survived the next twenty minutes by sharing his work life with her. She gave him her full attention as he explained Tantivy’s current operations—how they were a solid team but ultimately operated as three distinct sections. He’d hired baristas, bakers, and booksellers, and very rarely did one sector need to cover another. His three managers, who were required to be cross-trained, covered staff shortages instead.
Over the years, he’d figured out how to get a good feel for a person based on the way they treated service staff. Zinnia greeted every employee he introduced with her sun goddess smile and aquestion, using any little detail that caught her eye about them as a conversation starter.
That was honestly more than he hoped for. He needed someone outgoing and unbothered by small talk because personally, he hated it. Full stop. His partner had to be willing to do it for both of them.
After she’d met everyone, he asked, “Would you like a drink?”
“I’d love one. Whatever you’d think I’d like.”
“Is this a test?”
“Only if you want it to be.” She shrugged. “I’ll try anything once so do your worst. My sweet tooth can take it.”
He decided to play it safe with an iced vanilla latte with lavender cold foam.
Tantivy’s lavender lattes were seasonal only—restricted to spring—and intensely popular. Customers not only counted down the days to their return, but also to trying the new floral flavor combinations his team cooked up. He wanted each of his stores to have its own personality and encouraged his employees to make it happen by engaging with the community.
Zinnia took pictures of her drink and white chocolate lemon drop cookie as soon as they sat down at a table. He picked the quietest corner near the back mural wall, directly next to the bakery.
“This is so impressive,” Zinnia said as she typed on her phone. “And you really did this all by yourself?”
“No.” That self-made entrepreneur bullshit never sat right with him. “I worked with a lot of talented contractors. This place doesn’t run without my team. Neither does my first store.”
He had his heart set on building a chain, stretching from one end of California to the other. In-N-Out was synonymous with the West Coast. He wanted the same for Tantivy.
“Two whole stores already.Wow. I’m still stuck in mybedroom. I mean, that’s where we keep everything—the inventory. In my closet.”
“Everyone starts somewhere and you’re honestly killing it. Your branding and engagement rate is unreal. I know they’re all your designs, but do you contract with a social media manager?”
“Nope.” She shook her head, beaming with so much pride he felt stunned again. “Everything is in-house, just the three of us. But Fiona does freelance consultations and will occasionally take on a new client if she likes them. I can give her your info if you’re looking for someone new.”
“You’re not worried I’ll steal her from you,” he joked.
“That’s not possible.”
“I pay my employees really well. I think I could at least tempt her.”
“Hmm. Maybe. Can I ask you something serious?” She leaned forward, concentrating on him. “It’s extremely personal. It’s okay if you don’t want to answer.”
“Go for it.” He matched her movements until their heads were bowed together over the table.
“How do you feel about washing dishes?” she asked with a completely straight face.
“I have a dishwasher, but I don’t mind doing them by hand. I’m assuming that was your cute way to ask about chores, uh, housework?”
She nodded, giddy smile returning like the sun breaking through storm clouds. He’d never met anyone so damn expressive. Every emotion she felt flitted across her face with wild abandon. She seemed so transparent that if he stared hard enough, he was positive he’d be able to read her mind.
“Cleaning isn’t a passion of mine, but I know how to pick up after myself,” he continued. “My cat has a death wish and won’t stop eating plastic. I can’t leave stuff lying around for him to find.He also sheds a lot, so I have a cleaner who comes once a month to do a deep clean reset. What about you?”
“I’m not obsessed with cleanliness, but I do need things to be in order. Neat, tidy, organized. Everything in its place. I don’t mind chores as long as we both contribute.”
“Yeah, I wouldn’t want to feel like I was the only one cleaning up either. I actually moved out of my college apartment because I couldn’t handle the level of filth my roommates lived in. That was a lot to deal with.”
