Page 81 of The Marriage Narrative
“Alfie told me you like mysteries. Do you like horror stories too?” he asked.
“Only if there’s a strong mystery plotline.”
“Do you like podcasts?”
“I don’t dislike them. Why?”
“There’s a horror fiction podcast I think you might like. It’s hard to explain without spoiling it, but basically, it’s about this guy who records himself reading supernatural statements madeby other people. Everything is connected like a conspiracy, and he also talks to coworkers and stuff. It’s really good.”
“Send me the name. You have my number, right?” she asked, purposefully leaving that door open for him.
He nodded. “A huge part of the story is about fear, like all different kinds and how their edges bleed together. What’s the scariest thing you can think of?”
“Mmm, don’t know. I don’t usually go around thinking about scary things.”
“Oh. I do.” His nonchalant shrug tickled her.
Zinnia couldn’t remember the last time she had a real conversation with a teenage boy. He was really making her work for it.
“If I think about something and I get really afraid of it happening, that’s how I know it’s actually important to me,” he said. “Lu is…I know we fight a lot, and it doesn’t seem like it but…Lu is…”
Ah, so that was it.
He swallowed hard and squeezed the ball in his right hand so tight it shook. “Lu is…”
“So important that it’s hard to put into words? I get it.”
His ragged inhale was answer enough. “I just wanted to say thank you. We treated you like shit and you—” He paused with a headshake. “Thank you. That’s it.”
“Water under the bridge.” She nodded, fully committed to making this easy for him. “I’d hug you if you seemed like the type.”
“I’m not.”
“Me neither. Look at us having something in common. I do make an exception for your brother, though. They’re very good.” She gave him the friendliest comforting tap on the shoulder and stood. “Speaking of water, I’ll be at the pool if anyone needs me. I suspect no one will, but hey. That’s my Zaffre lot in life.”
“See you later.”
Zinnia took exactly five steps, twirled around, and began walking backward. “Oh, by the way, thank you for the flowers. In about three months, there’ll be a surprise for you on my shop’s website.” She’d named the finalized broody, misunderstood firefly character Wylie after him.
The pool was one long rectangle with sharp ninety-degree corners and a three-tiered waterfall, as advertised. A deep blue bottom made the gently churning water appear bejeweled in the sunlight.
Zinnia claimed one of the white lounge chairs, pulling it closer to the pool’s edge, and opened the umbrella. Fiona had insisted she pack a bathing suit because “hot and rich people always end up wearing them at some point on reality TV.”
She only owned one—a teal tankini with oranges on it. Lulie no doubt sensed a disturbance in the fashion force as she stripped out of her clothes.
“Here you are,” Jordan said, appearing right as she finished her sunscreen routine. He was simultaneously squinting down at her and roasting in the sun.
“Come on.” She pulled his wrist until he sat down beside her under the umbrella. “It’s like you want to get heatstroke.”
“You’re talking today?” He didn’t bother hiding his surprise.
“What, like it’s hard?”
She held her breath as he relaxed, hoping for a half-hearted dirty joke about oranges and common decency, and got nothing.
His family might not have noticed a difference in her, but Jordan absolutely did. It’d been hard to miss the ever-present tension in his jaw and shoulders. His long, plaintive stares whenever she was near him. How hesitant his touch became.
In the depths of her burned-out despair, he’d been the light beckoning her back to the surface. He was in her system now likea fever she’d never sweat out. She thought about him more than she should but less than she wanted, in every way imaginable.
