Page 94 of The Marriage Narrative
“I can bring it to you tomorrow. Maybe at seven a.m.?”
She snickered. “You never wake up that early.”
“But you do. What kind of husband would I be if I let you go a single day without your favorite jacket?”
Chapter 23
Zinnia
Find Your Zinquietly reopened at midnight, three days after she’d been home.
Fiona scheduled all the teaser photos announcing the Nouveau Kitsch collection (formerly known as Springtime Critters) to roll out over the next week. Grace posted the job listing for an assistant to take over order fulfillment. And Zinnia officially signed a lease for their new headquarters.
It was in a nearby office building, three times as big as her closet, and hadZnO2, LLCengraved on a glass plate attached to the door. She sent her parents a full video tour so they could see just how far their former delinquent baby girl had come. There was a time when their friends and even their pastor had tried to convince them that she was beyond help.
She justknewher parents were going to show that video toeveryone.
After spending another morning reviewing applications, assembling furniture, and organizing, she drove to Jordan’s apartment. His building had a swanky lobby and required a key fob to get past securityandto use the elevator.
Because of course it did.
There were only four apartments on his floor—the fourteenth. He’d told her that he’d chosen the corner pocket because he liked watching the sunset over the city skyline from his living room. She rang his bell and waited, nervously smoothing both her braids and her skirt down.
Did he give her a key? Yes. But they were only on day ten of thirty: her first weekend at his place. It was symbolically too soon to use it.
He laughed after opening the door. “What are you doing?”
Seeing him instantly soothed her worries away. Always dressed in all black with long sleeves. Always looking at her as if she were the best thing to ever happen to him. “Being polite. I’ve never been here before.”
“Ah.” He took a step back, opening the door wide and making a sweeping bow. “Please come in. Make yourself at home. Stay forever.”
“Thank you. That’s all I wanted.”
Jordan’s apartment smelled as wonderful as he did—a mixture of him, fresh laundry, faint traces of mint—and was fully furnished in his usual monochromatic style. There were splashes of color here and there but nothing as bright as Beta Carotene winding around her shins.
Zinnia humored him with impressedoohs andaahs as he gave her a tour. The silly kind where he saidkitchenand then pointed to what was very obviouslythe kitchen. He must’ve chosen his dishes one piece at a time because nothing matched even though there was a cohesive theme. It’d probably taken him a million trips to flea markets and small business craft fairs to find everything he wanted.
“I cleared out the drawers under the left sink for you. Or you could put your things on the counter. Whatever you want,” he said while showing her the bathroom. That had a tub. And ashower. Thatweren’tconnected. It was also spotless in there, not a stray beard hair to be found, and had framed art prints on the walls.
“Are those for me?” She pointed to the bottles of her favorite lotion, perfume, and toothpaste.
“I was at the store the other day. Figured I might as well get them.”
“You spoil me.”
“It comes with the job description.” Jordan clicked off the bathroom light and gestured for her to follow him across the hall. “And per the Separate Bedroom clause, this one is yours.” He was fidgeting—putting his hands in his pockets, changing his mind and crossing his arms, and then changing his mindagainto worry at his palms. “It’s a brand-new bed. I built it yesterday. I also realized that you’ve never told me your favorite color, but your bathing suit had oranges on it and your room was filled with all those little orange trinkets. I figured that must’ve been it, so…orange comforter set.”
“Thank you,” she whispered, throat tight. He guessed right—that was her favorite.
“If you don’t like it, we can change everything. Whatever you need to make it feel likeyours, consider it done,” he said quickly.
Moments like these made being married to him feel overwhelming. Impossible. She would never recover from how vulnerable he looked standing there wanting, hoping she felt happy and safe being there with him in his home.
Her face and chest felt hot, like she was flustered, but she instinctively knew it was something else entirely, intimate and hungrier.
Desire, and all the complications that came with it, was categorically not a part of their marriage. She was still learning how to find peace in his warm, slow blinks when he stared at her face. In the softness that anchored his fond gazes and indulgent grinsthat no one else seemed to earn. Nothing horny about those, and still, her heart fluttered nonetheless. That was enough.
More than she’d asked for. More than she dreamed she’d end up with.
