Page 11 of The Marriage Narrative
Coffee meeting, author event for a new book release, and going on a short walk to get ice cream—all his ideas. She followed him back to the bookstore that was now set up with rows of chairs.
“I want to buy these before the event starts.” She picked up the book she’d been eyeing earlier and the featured author’s as well.
“Your money’s no good here.”
“Why?” They chose two seats in the back row and sat down. “Are you giving me a fake five-finger discount? Like that one store that lets people think they’re getting away with stealing until they hit a certain dollar amount and then they get slapped with felony charges.”
“I can’t steal from myself and what’s mine will be yours.”
“Potentially.”
“What happened to ‘hopefully’?”
“I misspoke. Got caught up in the moment,” she admitted. “I’d say we’re at the promise rings stage. Things can still go wrong.”
He regarded her for a handful of heartbeats. “They won’t.”
The author, Spark Kirkland, took to the podium and began adjusting the microphone. He was an older white man with thinning brown hair and a great mustache. She leaned close to Jordan and whispered, “We’ll see about that after I hear your good faith secret.”
Spark began by reading a passage from his book. Zinnia followed along in her own copy. She preferred listening to stories but never passed on an opportunity for an immersive reading experience. He also spoke candidly about the book’s heart—the Dust Bowl and the Great Depression—and then asked for questions. It was a good-sized audience, but they weren’t the participating type.
Zinnia raised her hand. “Hi. First-time questioner, short-term listener. You spoke about wanting the story to feel as grounded and rooted in history as possible. Why, then, introduce fantasy elements? Or did the fantasy come first andthenyou searched for a compelling historical backdrop?”
He seemed surprised. “What a great question, thank you for asking. I was hoping to talk a little about this.”
And just like that, the Q and A session turned into a one-on-one interview. She felt bad and kept raising her hand because no one else would. Spark thanked her again afterward while signing her book.
“Let me guess…you’re a writer too.”
She shook her head. “I just like reading.”
“Fooled me.” He passed the book across the table. “You know, you really saved me out there. I never know how events will turn out and you made that one infinitely more enjoyable. If you’re free tonight, I’d love to take you to dinner. As a thank-you, of course.”
People could besonice sometimes. “Sorry, but I already have plans.”
“With me. Hi, Spark.”
“Jordan.” His smile tightened. “I didn’t see you there.”
“Oh, I’m sure you did. Ready, Zinnia?” He lightly pressed his hand against her lower back, and an anticipatory chill danced up her spine.
“Ready.” She waved at Spark. “Bye, it was nice to meet you!”
Tantivy was nestled in a row of businesses along the main downtown strip. Urban planning at its most efficient, the two-lane road was lined with huge trees, benches, convenient crosswalks, and plenty of parking. The warm late spring breeze smelled irresistibly delicious, thanks to the fruit and elote street vendor they passed on the way to the ice cream shop a few blocks away.
“I bet you were a pleasure to have in class,” Jordan teased.
“That’s not the word my teachers would use to describe me. Maybe delinquent? Hellion? Jezebel—hated that one. I went to a Christian private school, so the insults were either biblically inspired or pure slut shaming.” She shrugged. “To be fair to them, Iwas a whole-ass different person back then. Growing up was good for me.”
“What changed?”
“I almost died.” She didn’t mean to laugh at his suddenly concerned expression. “I guess I should’ve said being able to grow up was good for me. Oh, but my grandma used to call me a ham. I don’t know if people still say that, but that’s pretty much my default personality.”
“But what happened? You’re obviously okay but…”
“It’s not worth talking about.”
“Then why did you say it? I’m not going to be able to stop thinking about that until you tell me.”
