Chapter 9
Jordan
Zinnia was never going to trust him or his family now and it was all his fault. She was right. He was wrong. End of story.
He spent the entire night agonizing over every last second of their prelude-to-divorce conversation.
Standing in the hall, desperate to knock on her door.
Slinking back to his room, hoping she’d come to him.
Waiting for her to appear with her suitcase and a goodbye.
Eventually, he gave up and sat near the front door, ready to beg on his knees for her to stay.
Nobody had ever accused him of not being overdramatic.
By morning, Jordan’s stomach wouldn’t stop churning with nausea because he just knew Zinnia was going to leave him. When someone rang their doorbell, he groaned in abject agony—he wasn’t ready to face the day and all the terrible consequences it had planned for him.
He’d expected Mabel, but it was his mom standing on the porch with a pastry gift basket. “Happy housewarming, honey.” Seeing her smile eased some of the weight pressing down on his soul. “Weren’t you wearing those clothes yesterday?”
He looked down at himself—barely wrinkled but entirely disheveled. “It’s, uh, been a long night.”
“I see.”
He stepped aside and followed her into the kitchen, where she placed their present on the counter, fluffing and adjusting the placement of the red ribbons.
That had always been her favorite color. When he was seven, he’d spent the summer with his grandma, who taught him how to crochet. He’d made his mom a stuffed animal that barely passed for a ladybug as a birthday present. She’d named it Clover and still had it on the desk in her office.
“Well, there’s no point in beating around the bush. I’m not happy about this, Alfie. Neither is your father.” She paused to whip off her sunglasses and add an exasperated huff. “What were you thinking?”
“I told you, repeatedly, that I did not want to marry Bea.”
“And when I asked why, repeatedly, you refused to answer. How on earth do you expect me to plan your storylines if you insist on being so damn secretive?”
“Because ‘no’ should’ve been enough.”
His mom visibly inhaled, mouth set into a firm scowl that meant she didn’t want to fight with him, but that was exactly what was about to happen.
Getting older meant getting a chance to know his parents as adults—and for them to figure out how to respect him as one.
The I don’t care how old you are. You’re my baby line could be as dismissive as it was loving.
He braced himself to hear her launch into some version of the former. Just like she always did.
“You refused to meet me halfway. You refused to let us meet anyone you were dating. You refused to give me anything to work with.” She’d counted off each offense on her fingers.
Three strikes. He was out. “Bea was all I had and having her here would’ve made the kind of media magic we need to protect Sadie.
Every storyline, every subplot, every angle—all of it was perfect. ”
Jordan kept his posture relaxed, but stood his ground by holding her shrewd, steely blue-eyed gaze. He needed to listen to what she had to say first because this was his fault too.
She pointed at him with her sunglasses. “When you wanted to leave us, did I stop you or was I there, helping you move into your dorm room? When you agreed to join the show, who was the only person in the room to say no? I am so, so proud of you and everything you’ve accomplished but you live with your head in the clouds. There’s no place for that here.”
He ground his teeth to keep his mouth shut. It was true that he’d always chosen his own path, and she did support him every step of the way. Why was now suddenly different?
“Everything I’ve done, everything we’ve sacrificed has been to secure our family’s future and cement our legacy.
The day I married your father, I swore to myself that my children would have every opportunity this world had to offer at their fingertips.
No one would tell them no. No one would deny them.
No one would discriminate against them and get away with it.
So, when I say, ‘I need you to trust me,’ it’s coming from experience that you do not have. ”
He shook his head. “I’m sorry, Mom, but you’re wrong.”
She scoffed. “I don’t see how.”
Taking charge behind the scenes of Zaffre Hours started as a means to protect her kids from the industry—keeping everything in-house kept them safe. Meanwhile, Jordan had learned to rely on himself.
Living a double life had both left him unable to fully invest in his relationships and made it hard to trust his family to know what was best for him. He knew their world like the back of his hand, and for that reason alone, he refused to live in it the way they did.
If he wanted control over his storylines, he had to prove himself. Trial by fire was the only way—he needed to show her because she was never going to just believe him.
“I’ll take responsibility for going about things the way I did, but what’s done is done. Zinnia is the one. We’re a package deal now. There’s no place for Bea here.”
Her sunglasses snapped in her hand.
Zinnia
As soon as she left her room in the morning, she heard Jordan and his mom talking together in the kitchen. She eavesdropped until she couldn’t take it anymore.
Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of him.
Dull, sallow skin. Bleary red-tinted eyes as if he hadn’t slept. He was even still wearing his wedding suit, minus the jacket and tie. His shirt’s top buttons were undone, revealing a gold chain against the hollow of his throat.
A heartbreakingly handsome hot mess.
His crossed arms fell to his sides when he noticed her. He took a tentative step forward before stopping, and she tried to break down his body language into words to help see past her own feelings—hesitation, sadness, uncertainty, regret, and something else she couldn’t translate just yet.
“Oh, good morning.” Amber plastered a smile on her face. She, on the other hand, looked picture-perfect in a blue caftan. “We missed you last night when you didn’t return.”
“I was tired. Long day.”
“Saying good night would’ve been less rude. No matter. You can make it up to me now.”
Zinnia looked to Jordan, but he seemed just as startled. There were no cameras or microphones in the bungalow. Whatever happened next would be her word against theirs. She set her shoulders back. “If anything, I’d say we were even.”
Amber began walking toward her. “Far from it. We’re having breakfast together. Just the two of us.”
“What? No,” Jordan said.
“Alfie, I don’t want to hear it.”
Zinnia’s entire body tensed on instinct. Her pulse jumped from fine to fleeing, but she held still as Amber linked their arms together.
“I’m spending the morning with my daughter-in-law. Why else would you bring her here if you didn’t want me to get to know her?”
Jordan considered them both with a grim expression. “Can you give us five minutes?” He spoke to his mom but kept his eyes on Zinnia. “I need to tell her something.”
That look from him, the way it resonated inside her clear as a ringing bell, was enough to transform her doubts into confirmation. Staying was the right choice.
Emotionally, the invisible string between them was threadbare, but what was left held fast.
Contractually, Zaffre lawyers were likely on standby and ready to sue. She knew things were truly dire when she’d been the one to point that out to Grace.
Amber shooed him away with her free hand. “I’m sure whatever it is can wait.”
Outside, Zinnia was ushered into the passenger seat of the fanciest-looking golf cart she’d ever seen, sleek and all black with six seats. Naturally their camera pods, notably with all new faces, were coming along for the ride.
“Hi, I’m Zinnia.”
Only one person smiled and nodded in return.
“Y’all really take that no-talking thing seriously, huh?”
“Their jobs depend on it.” Amber started the cart. “Stop trying to get them fired, dear.”
She turned to the pods for confirmation. The same person nodded again and mimed zipping her lips.
“Well, shit,” Zinnia whispered as Amber suddenly sped off from the bungalow.
But she didn’t get a chance to say goodbye to Jordan yet!
Holding on to the safety grab handle, she leaned out over the side.
Wind whipped her braids into her face as she searched for him.
He hadn’t moved, still standing by the porch with his hands clutched into fists at his sides.
She waved at him, and he did the same as the distance rapidly grew between them.
“Did Alfie tell you we built this estate as a family about seven years ago?” Amber asked as Zinnia sat back down and then continued without waiting for an answer.
“Damon and I focused on the overall design—it’s our retirement home.
Sadie chose the location. Wylie insisted on having a pool with a waterfall.
” She pointed at a tennis court as they sped past it.
“Built that specifically for Lulie to practice. She wanted to be the next Serena Williams until some two-bit millennial poet inspired her to be a writer. Years of our life and thousands of dollars on private lessons wasted because of a poem.” She shook her head.
“But that’s Lulie for you. She’s still finding herself, unfortunately, but now she wants to be an actress.
Damon and I are praying this one sticks. ”
Zinnia couldn’t decide if this was the type of chatter that required participation. Some people liked to hear themselves talk—or were used to filling in frosty silences for a camera. But Grace had advised her to get more information. And how to do it.
GRACE: Sweet, sassy, and sharp. Don’t let them see your kindness or punk you.
FIONA: Think innocent antagonism! You can do it!
“What about Jordan? Did he help too?”