Page 88 of The Marriage Narrative
Being around his parents was…difficult. Forgetting to update the emergency evacuation protocol had been a genuine mistake. His dad had apologized by including Jordan in the revision process and swearing to personally make sure she’d never be excluded like that again. Zinnia would be protected at the estate and at home once the show went live.
That wasn’t enough in Jordan’s eyes.
His dad exited the office, camera pod filming his every move, and Jordan silently fell in step beside him. Everyone else had already left to find Lulie’s favorite grove—a winding path with frequent staged stops for guests to take pictures. They took the shortcut trail to save time.
“So, what’s the verdict?” his dad asked.
“We’re going.” His conversation with Zinnia had been private. This one was to paint the first broad strokes of a separation storyline.
“You know you don’t have to do this. Things are different now.”
“They should’ve been from the start, Dad.”
“Your mom, she—” He exhaled in a frustrated huff and stared at his camera pod. “Fuck it.”
Jordan almost did a double take. His dad grabbed his arm, swung him to a stop and into a face-off.
“There’s no excuse for what I did. Every time Zinnia looks at me, all I feel is ashamed. But don’t make her wait around for something that’s never gonna show up, Alfie.”
He frowned. “What are youtalkingabout?”
“Marrying Bea was supposed to be temporary, not something meant to last,” his dad confessed. “You love us, but you’ve never needed us, and you kept everyone else at a distance so you could make the cleanest getaway possible when things got too hard or too messy. Can you really blame us for assuming getting married wouldn’t be any different for you? You weren’t supposed to care about BeaorZinnia.”
Disbelief rocked through Jordan from being called out on camera like that. He ripped his arm out of his dad’s grip and resumed marching down the trail. His throat was too tight to even try defending himself.
Because it was true, wasn’t it? Jordan was alone. He was…He’d always been alone and had married someone who refused to live her life that way. She helped him accept that he didn’t want to either.
The trail ended abruptly on the left side of the grove, but Jordan wasn’t ready to join his family yet. Wylie was successfully juggling three rocks and yelling for Eric to throw in a fourth one. Zinnia was cowering slightly behind Lulie but was cheering him on.
Seeing her happy made the day worth it. Her smile alone had a habit of smothering his anger until only ashes remained. He hadn’t been ready for marriage. That much was true. But hefought for it, for her, and would keep fighting. He wanted to give her nothing less than everything.
“Who I—who we thought you were, that’s who we made plans for,” his dad said, now standing with him.
“I’m not like that anymore. It’s not like that with Zinnia.”
“I can tell. I never thought I’d see the day, but I know you love her, Jordan.”
His dad had never called him that before.
Mabel had herown office on the west side of the estate. Save for a nice desk, chairs, and the computer she was working at, the room was shockingly barren. The walls weren’t even painted the usual Zaffre blue.
Jordan placed the silver clicker on her desk and invited himself to sit down. “You hate this job, don’t you?” Being estate showrunner had to pale in comparison to running wild with Sadie.
“Correction: I hate my life. You all are a small part of an indescribably hellish whole.”
He wasn’t entirely sure if she was joking. “What would make it better?”
“I’m not into affairs, polygamy, or having sister wives,” she said while still typing. “Besides, you’re barking up the wrong lesbian tree. No one would believe I’m into you. Zinnia is unfortunately my type. I fall for that sunshine bullshit every time. But you? Yikes.”
He laughed in spite of the fact that she was dead serious. Fake workplace dating used to be a frequent occurrence on the show. Wylie had the most successful run—hisTeenage Dreamstoryline with a fresh-out-of-high-school former PA lasted an entire year. Incredibly, they were still friends.
“We’re not looking for a third. Sorry to disappoint,” he said.
“Never would’ve pegged you as the traditional type.”
“What can I say? Zinnia made an honest man out of me. We want to leave.”
Mabel pinned him with her usual shrewd, twitchy gaze. “Wait. Are you pitching a new storyline? Or is this arealconversation?”
