Chapter 23
Zinnia
Find Your Zin quietly reopened at midnight, three days after she’d been home.
Fiona scheduled all the teaser photos announcing the Nouveau Kitsch collection (formerly known as Springtime Critters) to roll out over the next week. Grace posted the job listing for an assistant to take over order fulfillment. And Zinnia officially signed a lease for their new headquarters.
She just knew her parents were going to show that video to everyone.
After spending another morning reviewing applications, assembling furniture, and organizing, she drove to Jordan’s apartment. His building had a swanky lobby and required a key fob to get past security and to use the elevator.
Because of course it did.
There were only four apartments on his floor—the fourteenth. He’d told her that he’d chosen the corner pocket because he liked watching the sunset over the city skyline from his living room. She rang his bell and waited, nervously smoothing both her braids and her skirt down.
Did he give her a key? Yes. But they were only on day ten of thirty: her first weekend at his place. It was symbolically too soon to use it.
He laughed after opening the door. “What are you doing?”
Seeing him instantly soothed her worries away. Always dressed in all black with long sleeves. Always looking at her as if she were the best thing to ever happen to him. “Being polite. I’ve never been here before.”
“Ah.” He took a step back, opening the door wide and making a sweeping bow. “Please come in. Make yourself at home. Stay forever.”
“Thank you. That’s all I wanted.”
Jordan’s apartment smelled as wonderful as he did—a mixture of him, fresh laundry, faint traces of mint—and was fully furnished in his usual monochromatic style. There were splashes of color here and there but nothing as bright as Beta Carotene winding around her shins.
Zinnia humored him with impressed oohs and aahs as he gave her a tour.
The silly kind where he said kitchen and then pointed to what was very obviously the kitchen.
He must’ve chosen his dishes one piece at a time because nothing matched even though there was a cohesive theme.
It’d probably taken him a million trips to flea markets and small business craft fairs to find everything he wanted.
“I cleared out the drawers under the left sink for you. Or you could put your things on the counter. Whatever you want,” he said while showing her the bathroom.
That had a tub. And a shower. That weren’t connected.
It was also spotless in there, not a stray beard hair to be found, and had framed art prints on the walls.
“Are those for me?” She pointed to the bottles of her favorite lotion, perfume, and toothpaste.
“I was at the store the other day. Figured I might as well get them.”
“You spoil me.”
“It comes with the job description.” Jordan clicked off the bathroom light and gestured for her to follow him across the hall.
“And per the Separate Bedroom clause, this one is yours.” He was fidgeting—putting his hands in his pockets, changing his mind and crossing his arms, and then changing his mind again to worry at his palms. “It’s a brand-new bed.
I built it yesterday. I also realized that you’ve never told me your favorite color, but your bathing suit had oranges on it and your room was filled with all those little orange trinkets.
I figured that must’ve been it, so…orange comforter set. ”
“Thank you,” she whispered, throat tight. He guessed right—that was her favorite.
“If you don’t like it, we can change everything. Whatever you need to make it feel like yours, consider it done,” he said quickly.
Moments like these made being married to him feel overwhelming. Impossible. She would never recover from how vulnerable he looked standing there wanting, hoping she felt happy and safe being there with him in his home.
Her face and chest felt hot, like she was flustered, but she instinctively knew it was something else entirely, intimate and hungrier.
Desire, and all the complications that came with it, was categorically not a part of their marriage.
She was still learning how to find peace in his warm, slow blinks when he stared at her face.
In the softness that anchored his fond gazes and indulgent grins that no one else seemed to earn.
Nothing horny about those, and still, her heart fluttered nonetheless. That was enough.
More than she’d asked for. More than she dreamed she’d end up with.
Zinnia walked to her new bed—stiffly, but she made it—and sat. “So. What’s a normal Saturday for you?”
“Meal planning and—”
“No.”
“—grocery shopping. What’s wrong with that?”
“You’re so boringly efficient,” she teased. “I know, I know, it’s so you don’t have to think about it later.”
“It’s better than working so long I forget to eat and turn into a hangry goblin.”
“Hey, my goblin dinners are creative and resourceful. Some of my best work.”
He crossed his arms, peering down at her. She defiantly stared back, heart in her throat. Jokingly wanting to have a psychic bond with him was going to backfire any day now. He’d see and judge her for all the things she wasn’t supposed to be feeling about him.
“Have you eaten today?” he asked.
“That’s irrelevant.”
“You didn’t because you were anxious about coming here.”
“Get out of my head! There’s nothing for you in there!”
His laughter sounded like music as he held out his hand. “Let’s go to the store. You can show me all your favorite goblin groceries.”
When he wasn’t stealing sports cars, Jordan was a perfectly safe driver. He took them to his usual grocery store—a definitely overpriced and borderline classist affair. Some growing-up-rich habits never went bankrupt.
“Ooh!” She held up a bag of chips and tossed them in the cart.
“That noise you just made is exactly why you’re not supposed to go shopping on an empty stomach.”
She watched him add them to the list on his phone anyway. “Says who?”
“Everyone.”
“That doesn’t matter as much as balance.” They’d already cleared the produce, meat, and frozen food sections and were heading to the cereal and snacks aisle. “Can I see?”
He passed her his phone. She skimmed through it and added her usual goblin staples that weren’t sold there.
Off-brand rice and marshmallow treat bars were often her sole reason for living during her period.
Not having them at the Zaffre estate had been cold-turkey torture.
She hit the back button and said, “Wow, you really do make lists for everything—I have my own folder?”
“Stop going through my phone without permission,” he said while reading the ingredients on a box of protein bars.
She raised an eyebrow. “May I?”
“Of course.”
Zinnia snickered. She didn’t actually want to go snooping, because there could be anything in there, like messages taking full advantage of their Open Door clause.
There’d been no one else at the Zaffre estate. He had options now, websites and apps full of them, not to mention someone like him could walk up to anyone, smile, say a cute little joke, and get their contact info like that.
Her stomach clenched thinking about that reality. It was better if she didn’t know. They didn’t have to share everything.
Zinnia carefully slid his phone into his front pocket and pressed in as close as she dared while watching his face.
She was still feeling her way through what kind of touching was allowed between them now.
Affection was second nature to Jordan. Thoughtful pats, hugs, and reassuring squeezes were freely given to anyone who needed them.
But she didn’t want to be seen as anyone to him.
“Do you think you’d eat these?” he asked.
“Probably not.”
He placed the box back on the shelf. Without missing a beat, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. They pushed the cart together toward checkout.
On their way out of the store, they were stopped by an energetic voice asking, “Would you like to buy some cookies to support our school play?”
Jordan swiveled the cart in front of their table. “I absolutely would. What do you have?” He listened attentively while the little kids in their adorable school uniforms pitched him each kind and pointed out their favorites.
Lovingly made home-baked goods these were not, because they also had an artisan candy catalog for special orders.
He already had his wallet out. “I’ll take two of everything.”
Zinnia laughed as they began jumping up and down and screeching in that way only children could.
“You all gave an excellent sales pitch. Consider me an investor—I need to try them all,” he said while also handing a business card to their pink-haired chaperone. An open invitation to set up a booth in front of Tantivy any time.
Fiona sometimes joked about how thinking with her ovaries always got her in trouble. Key word being joke.
Zinnia had no idea, until that very second, it was an actual affliction. Jordan being so supportive and generous when he didn’t have to be sent her spiraling straight into desire’s obsessive clutches. She felt like a screw being overturned—each rotation bringing her closer and closer to stripping.
“Ready?” He added their cookie haul to the cart.
She was holding her purse strap in a death grip. “Ready. We should get sushi.”
“We just bought groceries.”
“Yeah, but nobody cooks after shopping. You’re supposed to eat out. It’s goblin law on goblin grocery day.”
He chuckled. “Sure.”
Back at his apartment, they fed Beta Carotene a snack and crashed in the living room.
“Is this disrupting your Saturday?” she asked thoughtfully.
They could do anything now, go almost anywhere, but she was happy on the couch watching a classic movie and eating sushi with him.
Boring married life was one hundred percent for her when she got to choose it.
“How does meal prep work? Cook everything, divvy it up, and freeze it?”
“Not for me. I cook every day. As long as I have the ingredients in the fridge, I’ll stick to the plan.”