Chapter 15
Jordan
Nights in the bungalow were truly the best part of his day. Therefore, mornings without his wife were simply the worst. He didn’t make the rules.
Jordan spent weekdays alone in his dad’s office. Back home, he kept the same schedule more or less—wake, work, home, relax. But something about doing it at the estate made life feel extra monotonous.
Talking to Sadie continued to be his first order of business.
“She’ll be fine,” his sister said while on speakerphone. “It was just a surprise double-cross subplot. No big deal.”
Lulie’s outburst hadn’t stopped weighing on him since it happened. How she felt like a prisoner. The line between teenage melodrama and genuine cries for help.
“I’ve never seen her this upset before. I feel like she might take it out on Zinnia,” he said.
“Nah, Lulie isn’t actually mad at her. Our lovely new sister-in-law is just caught in the crossfire for now.”
He exhaled in a huff and placed his head on the desk. Her explanations made sense, but something was still off. The answer felt just out of reach, like someone tapping on his shoulder and disappearing as soon as he turned around.
Eric had become Lulie’s biggest pressure point in the prior season. He hated that the show kept using him to upset her, that it was even allowed in the first place.
Jordan’s identity was the initial inspiration behind the Zaffre Hours blacklist, but the bulk of the rules involved the twins.
There’d always been strict rules in place regarding their storylines.
Obvious points like not being allowed to film them in their rooms, while they were wearing bathing suits, or if anything medical-related was happening.
A thousand think pieces had launched when a viewer had pointed out the show never acknowledged Lulie getting her first period. Apparently, the omission had been a “missed opportunity to normalize it” and “give representation to young girls everywhere.”
Sadie made the first of her now-infamous video rants, blasting invasive commentators and defending their sister’s right to privacy in response.
The blacklist continued to grow over the years as needed. Children were now forbidden from appearing on Zaffre Hours. Even if they attended an extended family function, everyone under sixteen was protected by careful editing or had their faces blurred out.
But now that they were nineteen, all bets seemed to be off.
“I can feel you brooding. Cut it out.” Her laugh sounded different, shorter and mostly air. “There’s a rhythm to filming. Things must’ve been feeling stagnant during footage review and the writers pitched this sub to ramp things up again. You’ll get used to it.”
“Are you walking around? You sound like you can’t breathe.”
“Because I can’t. My beans are squishing my lungs. Fuck walking, I get winded taking a deep breath.”
It’d taken her a while to land on the nickname beans, Baked and Butter. Their mom yelled at her for initially calling them creatures and parasites, but that was Sadie. She did and said whatever she wanted.
“When’s your next appointment?”
“I’m fine, Alfie.” He just knew she’d rolled her eyes. “Most of us can’t breathe when they get big enough and I have two in there. Things happen twice as fast.”
“Really?”
“No, god damn it, read a baby book or something.” She snickered. “There is less room, though. My hips are already killing me, but I’m holding my beans in there for as long as I can.”
After ending his call with Sadie, he sat at his desk for ten more listless minutes before grabbing his laptop bag and walking to the pocket forest. “Hey, you.”
“Hey, yourself.” Zinnia was reclined on the bench. She smiled up at him from under a floppy wide-brimmed sun hat. “You’re not supposed to be here.”
“Well, I was working in my office. Feeling miserable.”
“Mmm.”
“I realized I had two options: keep wallowing in my unending misery or go see my wife because I missed her.”
“Aww.”
“I also thought we could try coworking today. See if it’s something we like.”
“Emotionally vulnerable and practical? It’s like I won the husband lottery.” Zinnia started to get up, but he motioned for her to stay where she was.
“Lift your legs for me.”
Just like that they went up like a ballerina hitting her marks, toes pointed and all.
Once he was seated, she showed off by lowering them at an exasperatingly slow pace.
Her guilty-as-charged tiny snorts as she fought to not dissolve into giggles were pure strategy.
She was playing it ridiculously coy, hiding her face behind her phone.
This was fun. Her new favorite hobby. Nothing was half as entertaining as pretending to seduce him for the cameras.
Jordan watched her absurdly tempting show but dutifully kept his hands to himself.
He’d already had to mentally split himself in two.
Sealed away all the parts of him that didn’t want to play by the rules in a vault.
Things were easier now because of it. His usual moves were suggestive eyebrow raises, appreciative looks, and amused grins—a choreographed exercise in detachment.
But every so often, he liked to shake things up.
Zinnia ended her move by arching her legs over his thighs and tucking her feet into his side.
She had a pale oblong-shaped birthmark on her inner thigh, just above her left knee, and a spottier one on her right ankle.
He caressed the top of her foot, tracing a straight line all the way up her shin.
Before she could react, he pulled her knees closer to his chest and gently bit her thigh birthmark.
She gasped and dropped her phone. He knew exactly what she was thinking as she looked him in the eye and calmly said, “Eight.”
“What are you working on today?” Holding on to her calf, he drew circles over her knee with his thumb.
“Mastering the art of pretending to look busy because my creative well is bone-dry.” She picked up her phone and began texting while talking. “We were hoping to time the Curious Critters collection surprise launch for the week I got back, but some of the designs aren’t coming together.”
She showed him a few of her sketches that had editorial feedback from Grace (Ducks in bucket hats? Groundbreaking.) and Fiona (You should make the firefly sinister. Have you ever seen them up close? Demonic if you ask me.).
He cleared his throat instead of laughing. “Would a change of scenery help?”
“Where would we go?”
“Do you want an office? We can make a project out of decorating it the way you want.”
Her gaze flicked to her camera pod. “No, here is fine. I’m just frustrated and complaining. I’ll stop now.”
“You don’t have to. There’s—”
“I’m done. I’m fine. Really.” She sat up, holding her phone out for him. “Watch this.”
He did. It was a silly internet video, courtesy of Fiona.
“You don’t think it’s funny.” She scrunched her face in disappointment and laid back down.
“It was.”
“Don’t lie. It’s okay.”
He still wasn’t in the best mood. Talking to Sadie had helped a little, but things were guaranteed to get worse before they got better.
“Show me another one.” He slouched forward, twisting until he was partially leaning next to her.
“Wait, hold on.” She hid her phone screen. “You can’t see the whole group chat.”
Zinnia was always so enthusiastic about sharing memes and videos Fiona had sent with him. It felt like the first tentative baby steps on the path toward having their own inside jokes and secrets. She didn’t predictably know what made him laugh yet, so she showed him everything to figure it out.
He resumed tracing, starting at her shoulders this time and moving across her clavicle, pausing where a pendant would rest.
Apart from her wedding ring, band, and bracelet, she didn’t wear any other jewelry. She had a special collection, though. His wife was a little mermaid, hoarding shiny and sentimental treasures that came from her friends and family. Her lucky bracelets and Grandpa’s ring barely broke the surface.
“Do you know what today is?” he asked.
“Monday.”
“The date.”
“Seventeenth.”
“And?”
“I don’t know,” she said with a soft laugh.
“That’s what I thought. I’d been waiting to see if you were going to mention it, but…” He reached into his laptop bag and pulled out a rectangular jewelry box. “Happy anniversary. We met for the first time one month ago today.”
She sat up in surprise. “What?”
“Open it.”
“We didn’t discuss this,” she whispered, nervously eyeing the camera. “You shouldn’t be buying me things when I didn’t get you anything.”
“That’s not how gifts work,” he reminded her.
“I didn’t even realize—”
“Don’t worry about that. I bought this because I wanted to.”
He took the rose gold necklace that matched her set out of the box. She leaned into him as he clasped it around her neck. “The gemstone reminded me of the dress you were wearing that day.” It had been a perfectly blended mix of reds, oranges, and yellows—just like a fire opal in the light.
“Thank you,” she whispered while rubbing the pendant with a pensive look in her eyes.
He kissed her forehead. “You’re welcome.”
“This made me feel worse, though. I can’t draw or remember anniversaries.”
He cackled, pulling her into a hug. She wasn’t kidding about them being a ten—her entire body curled around his. This was her favorite move in their game. If he’d had his way, this was all they’d do. Just sitting together, holding her in his arms for hours at a time.
Zinnia
All she wanted to do was hug her husband in peace, but there was a damn camera in her face.
Jordan’s present still felt cool against her skin.
He was so disgustingly perfect that it made her sick sometimes.
The kind of illness that burrowed into her heart and wormed its way into all her dark corners to let the light in.
She was never taking the necklace off. Ever.
And when she died, she better be buried in it.
“Can we talk about something?” she asked, chin still hooked over his shoulder. “I’ve been thinking about Lulie.”
“Yeah. Me too.”