Chapter 2
Zinnia
“Guardian Angel in position. Over,” Fiona announced.
“This is ridiculous. Over.” Grace refused to use her code name, Avenging Fury, as expected.
Zinnia laughed quietly. “Agreed, but I do love Fi’s enthusiasm.”
Was it a little strange for her friends to eavesdrop on her first marriage-merger meeting through earbuds? Maybe. But they both decided that since dating shows had producers, writers, and crew on set to keep participants safe, it was unacceptable for Zinnia to have no one.
So, Fiona volunteered to sit near the entrance to monitor the parking lot situation, Grace guarded the emergency exit, and Zinnia sat alone at her table, smack-dab in the middle of a diner they’d never been to before.
Goldeen’s was an incredible mishmash of 1950s-inspired decor and underwater magic. The employees even wore decade-accurate uniforms embroidered with a seahorse instead of a poodle.
“Incoming,” Fiona said. “Jet Blue has been spotted. I repeat, Jet Blue has been spotted. Over.”
Applicant #25 but Meeting #1: Samuel Kyle.
Things hadn’t exactly been going well so far.
Everyone within a fifty-mile radius was welcome to apply, but men responded seven times more often (which was so fucking disappointing).
Less than half of those applicants even made it past her aggressive filtering system.
And if they did make it to the call, the conversations were so dry, she hung up feeling thirsty.
“Over here.” Zinnia stood up and waved.
Her tailbone-length braids were barely a week old, and her makeup wouldn’t dare smear.
She was shaved, plucked, moisturized, and smelled so divine four strangers had already gone out of their way to ask the name of her perfume.
Looking good made her feel good, and she wanted to be confident for her first meeting.
Sam, however, had chosen to wear jeans, a black band T-shirt, and old sneakers…
which was fine! Not a big deal. He had beautifully rich brown eyes, a great smile, and a…
character-building patchy beard. His code name came from his dark blue hair that currently looked like it hadn’t seen the right side of a comb in days—a messy look was absolutely fine!
It was fine.
“Wow.” Sam took his sweet time looking her up and down. “You actually look like your picture. I’m shocked.” He grabbed his chest as if he were having a heart attack.
“But you already knew that.” She laughed lightly to soften the reminder. “We had a video call yesterday.”
“You could’ve been using a filter. Girls usually do.”
“Red Flag One!” Grace seethed in her ear.
“Seconded,” Fiona agreed.
It hadn’t even been thirty seconds! Each meeting was allowed three red flags before her friends could initiate Mission Abort.
“Why don’t we sit down?” Zinnia suggested.
He sat next to her while glancing around the diner. “Where are your friends?”
“I didn’t want them to sit with us, but they can hear everything.” Zinnia pointed to her earbud. She regretfully didn’t have a dishonest bone in her body. Besides, if he needed support, she would’ve wanted him to be honest about it too. He absolutely could’ve brought his friends.
“Cool. I get it.” He pulled out his phone and asked, “So, do I pass? Can I have your Rule of Thirds handle now? Or do you use some other platform?”
“I already told you I don’t have any personal social media accounts.”
ZnO2 did have a few for business, of course, but Fiona managed those.
She was also the primary pusher of memes and videos in their group chat.
That felt like enough to keep Zinnia somewhat in the pop culture loop—a personally curated best friend feed was far superior to anything an invasive algorithm could generate.
Sam leaned forward as if he were about to tell her a secret. “You know that’s weird, right?”
“Inviting your friends to a date is fine, but he draws the line at no social media?” Grace asked. “He has zero common sense.”
“Meeting. Not a date,” Fiona corrected.
“Is it? Why?” Zinnia asked him.
“You must be hiding something if you don’t want people checking you out before this.
I searched your name and all I found was a pie-eating contest you won at a county fair a few years back.
” He showed her his screen—and yep, that was her, holding up a first-place ribbon while posing with the equally excited wizened town mayor.
Grace and Fiona were there too, standing off to the side.
They’d been on a road trip to Vancouver and spontaneously decided to stop at the quaint as heck small-town fair they’d spotted from the freeway.
“I still don’t know why they decided that was front-page newsworthy,” she muttered with a sigh. “Anyway, I’m not hiding anything. I’m an open book. You can ask me whatever you’d like. I just don’t live my life online.”
“Not for long. Couples content makes bank.”
“Sorry, but am I supposed to know what that means?”
“Yeah, I mean, I’m definitely going to post about being engaged. This is it, right? Our thirty days starts now?”
“Not quite.” She placed her tablet on the table and pulled up her checklist.
They’d already covered the basics during their call—why she was doing this, yes, she was serious, and no, she wasn’t a serial killer. Apart from officially meeting in person, she wanted to use their time to discuss the more sensitive questions.
“Let’s talk medical history,” she said, diving right in. “Do you or anyone in your family have a history of cancer, diabetes, or chronic illnesses?”
He blinked at her in surprise, mouth hanging open.
“Oh, and please include everything from seasonal allergies to STDs, those that are recurring and in remission.” She held her stylus at the ready, waiting to record his answers.
“Why are you asking me that?” He kept his voice low, tone saturated with frantic urgency.
“Because I need to know. Your required medical care will be my required medical care once we’re married. I’m going to share my history too,” she said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Oh, do you want me to go first?”
Grace’s maniacal laughter erupted from across the diner, echoing in Zinnia’s ear.
“That’s our girl,” Fiona chimed in.
“No,” Sam said. “I don’t care about that stuff.”
“You should.” She kept smiling through her discomfort. “Having a disease or illness won’t affect my decision. We’ll need to spend some time discussing how best to support you, obviously, and compare our healthcare plans, but there isn’t—”
“You need to chill.” His lips curled in irritation. “I thought we were going to talk about moving in and getting married.”
“We are but—”
“Then let’s discuss that. Where do you live? How big is your apartment? How many rooms?”
“Well, I have—”
“Because I’m a streamer. I’ll need an entire room for my gaming studio.”
“Red Flag Two!” Grace said.
“Hold on Red,” Fiona said. “He knows you’re an artist, right? We could potentially partner with him for custom merchandising. Ask him which platform and subscriber count.”
“I’d love to hear more about that,” Zinnia said. “You’re an electrician during the day, so you must stream at night and on the weekends?”
“That’s right. It’s all about consistency and skill. Not to brag”—he paused, clearly prepared to do so—“but I just secured my biggest brand deal to date. You’re lucky you’re getting in with me early. When I blow up, you’ll be able to say you knew me from the beginning.”
“Ask about his subs!” Fiona urged.
“Realistically, it’s probably like two hundred,” Grace said. “I’ll bet that brand deal was for fifty dollars.”
Zinnia ignored them both. “I’d also like a room for my shop. We’ll have to review our finances to see how comfortably we can afford four bedrooms or if we’ll have to make do with two.”
He thought about it for a moment. “That’s fair. Your little shop stuff is super cute. If we can only afford two rooms, we can split the extra one seventy-five to twenty-five. A laptop and a desk should be enough for you, right? I’ll need way more space than that.”
“Little shop?” Grace asked with full offense. “RED FLAG.”
“Seconded. I can’t excuse that.”
Disappointment washed over Zinnia in a sobering wave. She’d felt like something was missing as soon as Sam walked through the door. Tried pushing past her doubts to make this work.
But deep down, she’d been waiting for the tiniest flutter of feelings to manifest. Not butterflies—this wasn’t that kind of situation—but the rush that came right before taking a giant step toward something greater.
Like signing a lease for a dream apartment or finally booking a two-week vacation overseas after a year of saving up for it.
If Sam didn’t respect her actual business, their marriage wouldn’t stand a chance.
“No, actually,” she said. “If you’d bothered to ask, I would’ve explained that I have inventory. A lot of it. I ship anywhere from fifty to three hundred orders a week. When there’s a new product or line launch, those numbers are likely to double.”
“Oh. Shit.”
“I’m very busy and my time is precious,” she said. “Next item: background check. We won’t be moving in together until after you pass and the prenup is signed.”
“Background check? For what?”
“Department of Justice–level clearance. It takes about three days to get the results.”
“I’m not doing a background check.” He sounded insulted.
“Oh, so you’re the one who’s hiding something. What did you do?”
He forcefully exhaled through his nose and pulled a napkin out of the dispenser. “You know, this was supposed to be fun. You’re making it feel like just another bad date.”
“Because I asked questions?”
“Because you’re being all serious.” He began tearing the napkin to shreds. “You’re acting like Lawyer Barbie. You’re not even trying to flirt back.”
“Back?!” Fiona exclaimed. “When did he start?”
“This is a business arrangement,” Zinnia said firmly.
“To get married.” He gave her a patronizing look. “People who do this kind of thing always end up falling in love.”