Chapter 22
Zinnia
Walking into her townhouse felt exactly the way it should have.
She’d both desperately hoped and irrationally worried that Grace and Fiona were now Grace and Fiona.
This was their townhouse now, newfound love swelling like a star becoming a red giant, expanding into all the spaces where she used to exist. She wouldn’t be unwelcome, just definitively pushed out of sight.
“I thought it’d be more colorful.” Jordan rolled her suitcases in and closed the door behind them.
“We’re not allowed to paint the walls. I was also outvoted on furniture selection.”
He scanned their small living room with keen, narrowed eyes and pointed to the bright yellow lamp. “That looks like you.”
She laughed, delighted he’d spotted her lone addition. “I found it at a thrift store. Fiona hates it but loves me.” She’d also most likely been the one to change the lampshade in Zinnia’s absence. It was bright blue and orange now—summer fading into autumn.
Messaging every day was great, but things like paying attention to a silly little lamp wrecked her every time.
“Are they here?” he asked. “Or do people usually walk in unnoticed?”
“I used my key. That’s hardly breaking and entering.”
“You’re getting the kind of alarm that announces when the door opens.”
“Okay.” She inhaled, sniffing the air. “Grace is in the kitchen. Fiona’s in the backyard.”
He looked mildly surprised. “My wife has a super sixth sense. Incredible.”
“I smell food and hear music. We’re usually outside around this time on the weekends. Come on.” She grinned, leading him by the elbow past the staircase and through the hallway into the kitchen.
She’d been right, of course, but hadn’t expected the massive Welcome Home banner, balloons, and table spread of all her favorite foods.
Grace was pulling a batch of chocolate cupcakes out of the oven. Completely straight-faced, she took off her oven mitts, fully ignored Jordan as she passed him, and wordlessly enveloped Zinnia in a heartfelt hug.
This was Grace, vulnerable and at her most dangerous. She was brash and loud by default, only going silent when fully overwhelmed by her feelings. She still wanted to kill Jordan, but Zinnia was home.
“I missed you too. Please don’t cry.”
“I’m not crying.” Grace’s hoarse voice gave her dead away.
Fiona entered through the sliding glass door with Beta Carotene on her heels. “She’s been stress baking the entire time you’ve been gone.”
Ignoring Jordan like it was a new trend, she wrapped her arms around Grace and Zinnia as Beta Carotene began yowling with all his might.
“Hey, buddy.” Jordan heaved his ginormous orange cat into the air.
Zinnia was a first-time cat mom. She’d researched his breed, Maine coon, and they were said to be soft-spoken, sometimes near silent in adulthood.
Beta Carotene hadn’t gotten the genetic memo.
She didn’t even know cats could sound like wailing banshees.
Or hug people? Beta had placed his kitty paws around Jordan’s neck while continuing to softly whine in distress.
Jordan asked Fiona, “You took him outside?”
“I stay with him the whole time. It’s completely enclosed and there isn’t anything dangerous out there.”
His grimace was there and gone in milliseconds. “He’s just firmly a house cat. Not a fan of the great outdoors.”
“Didn’t seem like it to me. He runs out the door as soon as I open it. Anyway, um, how was your flight?” Fiona, unable to bring herself to hug him, crossed her arms instead.
“Good. Quick.” He nodded. “I’m sorry, but he really went outside? On his own?”
She laughed. “Almost every day for the past week. I’ll show you his favorite spots.”
Backyards were a hot commodity on the rental market and had a stifling amount of rules, like no clotheslines and kiddie pools only.
Their townhouse came with a deck big enough for a table and a few chairs.
The steps led down to a decent-sized patch of clover lawn bordered by shrubbery and a nice wooden fence.
“That cat sheds like he’s going bald. I had to clean your sheets twice a week.” Grace returned to her workstation and washed her hands. “Fi wants a cat now. I spared you from all the daily animal shelter links.”
Zinnia would’ve rather gotten them. She leaned against the counter and asked, “Chocolate crème cupcakes?”
“It’s your Hostess Knockoff Special recipe.”
“Interesting choice.”
Because they were presumably for Jordan. He loved chocolate, not Zinnia.
When he came back inside, she took him upstairs to her room—the biggest one in the townhouse, but that wasn’t saying much.
She used the walk-in closet to store Find Your Zin’s inventory, adding multiple floor-to-ceiling shelves and clear plastic storage containers to hold everything.
Her design and packing station ran along the wall right next to it.
Laptop, tablet, printers, and mailing supplies were all neatly slotted together like Tetris blocks on her small desk, which itself was connected to a bookshelf filled with front stock.
There was barely enough space left for her hanging wardrobe rack, small dresser that doubled as her nightstand, and full-size bed—that she immediately starfish belly flopped on.
Beta Carotene silently joined her and stretched out in a sphinx pose. She still couldn’t get over the fact that fully standing upright, he was taller than a toddler.
“He really did get comfortable here.” Jordan was inspecting her collection of orange-themed souvenirs and ceramic tchotchkes.
She suggestively tapped the empty space next to them.
“If I lie down, I’m not getting back up.”
“Failing to see the problem with that.”
He pointed to the closet. “Shop in there?”
“Light switch is on the left side.” She slumped onto the bed with a pout.
All that affection she’d gotten used to better not stop with no cameras around—she’d likely wither and die without it.
Not to mention that they kept having these moments where it seemed like they were going to kiss again.
She saw the intention in his eyes, felt it in his body and hers, and then… it didn’t happen.
Jordan gasped. “There’s so much! I don’t know where to look first.” He comically spun in an overstimulated circle inside the closet.
“You’ve seen my art before.”
“Yeah, but I’ve never been surrounded by it, my god—this is the best thing I’ve ever seen in my life.” He stared at her in wonder, holding up a Halloween-themed sticker pack of costumed anglerfish.
“Jordan, please.” She slammed her burning face into a pillow to hide it. Better for him to think she was annoyed, because smiling would only encourage him.
Sometimes she liked to work with animals that existed outside of the cute index. Standard pets, bears, penguins, farm animals were all well and good and expected, but making a shoebill stork adorable without destroying its menacing edge took skill.
Beta Carotene nudged her shoulder.
“Yes?” Her gaze shifted to Jordan, now holding a tray of sticky tabs and matching pen sets while using his phone. “What are you doing?”
“Placing an order.”
“Why?” She propped herself up on one arm. Literally nothing in there matched his I’m a serious businessman style. “You can just take whatever you want.”
“I will not.” He frowned at her. “It’s for wholesale. Tantivy has a sizeable teenage customer base and partners with high school seniors for community literacy tutoring every other Saturday. They love stuff like this. Do you make planners?”
“Back right corner.”
He shouted again. “And sticky notes?! Incredible. You’re a design wizard—a genius.”
“Actually, most designers are working from the same basic template. The art is what makes them original.”
“And you’ve got that in the bag. You’re truly exceptionally talented, Zin.”
“I’m a normal amount of talented, thank you.”
“Don’t do that.” He glared, then laughed. “Ever thought about designing glassware?”
“It’s not on my wish list, no.”
“I’m thinking of doing something special for the grand opening of T3. Maybe a limited-edition cup designed by a remarkably talented local artist who just so happens to be my wife?”
“I’d be open to that, but…” She trailed off and paused. “Grace handles offers and contracts. You’ll have to submit a pitch and proposal just like everyone else.”
“Challenge accepted.” He exited the closet and came straight to her. She instinctively curled around him, using his thighs as a pillow. “Speaking of proposals, let’s talk about yours.”
During their sabbatical, he wanted to complete all the marriage-merger steps they’d skipped. It meant the world to her that he’d even asked. She hummed, relaxed and happy, as his knuckles gently brushed back and forth against her jaw.
“I want to meet your parents now,” he said.
Her eyes widened, gaze shooting up to his face. He looked so hopeful it made her heart squeeze with terror.
“I know we agreed to wait until the Zaffre Hours trailer dropped, but after everything that’s happened, I think…” He trailed off, hope rapidly transitioning into disappointment. “You’re not ready to do that.”
Why did her face have to be so loud all the time? “No, it’s not that. I just…” She sat up, frantically searching for an excuse to reassure him.
Thinking about Jordan and her parents in the same room made her mind go blank with panic. She giggled nervously, not sure why she was freaking out, but it was happening.
“Hey, it’s okay.” He rubbed her arms. “Forget I asked.”
“No. No, I can explain. It’s not that I don’t want you to…
” She exhaled and mentally pushed everything except him away.
Focusing on him trying and failing to mask the hurt in his eyes with a tight, understanding smile set her right.
“It’s not you. My parents are very…particular.
I haven’t figured out how to explain our marriage to them yet. ”
“What is there to explain?”
“The truth. We lied to your parents and turned it into a storyline. I can’t do that with mine.”
“Oh.” He swallowed hard. “Right.”