Page 12 of The Marriage Narrative
“See how it feels when people keep secrets?” She grinned at him and his reluctantly amused smirk was everything she wanted.
“How are you so sure I even have one?”
“Because this is too perfect. Look at that.” She pointed to Ice Cream Sunday’s beautiful window display, a daring swirl of colors that put rainbow sherbet to shame. The patio’s frilly, patterned tent made her think of cherries jubilee and creamy vanilla. “You just happened to own the coziest bookstore slash coffee shop slash bakery known to manandit’s within walking distance of the most delectable-looking ice cream parlor I’ve ever seen. Sir, this is a setup.”
“No, this is community,” he said thoughtfully. “It’s what happens when a city, business owners, and residents care about where they live. I specifically chose this location because I knew Tantivy could have a positive impact here. Helping to enrich neighborhoods is a core component of my business mission statement.”
Jordan didn’t have to answer so seriously, but she was thrilled he did. They could’ve met anywhere. He chose to invite her into his world because his work was truly important to him.
“The perfection continues.” She sighed.
Unsurprisingly, Jordan knew everyone working behind the counter. They were all happy to see him too, one employee going as far as to prepare his usual order without a word—rocky road with chocolate sprinkles.
Instead of sitting on the patio, they found a mostly private spot between two brick buildings. Two sapling nurseries took up most of the small courtyard, but the walkway separating them was bordered by benches every few dozen feet. Each one had a small gold plaque to note who’d donated it or whose memory it preserved.
Zinnia ordered two scoops of her dad’s favorite ice cream flavors, rum raisin and butter pecan, because it’d been a while since she’d had them. She didn’t go home often. Little choices like that kept her parents with her.
“Raisins get such a bad rap,” she mused.
“You wouldn’t believe the number of complaints we get when customers accidentally buy oatmeal raisin thinking it’s chocolate chip.”
“Those cookies are so good, though. I don’t get it.”
“Me either.” He was poking at his ice cream instead of eating it.
“Something wrong?” she asked, hoping he’d look at her, but he didn’t.
“I was just trying to think my way through something. Besides being a delinquent artist, did you have any other extracurriculars? Like acting in school plays or anything like that?”
“Why?”
“Just wondering. Most of the artists I know usually have more than one creative talent.”
“Ah, and you landed on performer?”
“It made the most sense.”
She thought about it. “I did used to get accused of having theaterkid energy back when that kind of thing mattered. But really, I’m just super extroverted, you know? Being able to talk to anyone is my superpower.”
“Got it.” He nodded. “So, uh, how flexible is your marriage timeline?”
“I’m fairly set on a month. That feels long enough.”
“What’s your minimum?”
“Why?”
“I’m leaving soon,” he said, still poking away. “I only have about a week left.”
“Oh shit, is it immigration?” She sat her ice cream down and turned fully toward him. “Because they have special tests for that kind of marriage. If that’s all the time we have, we’re gonna fail.”
“No, but thanks for considering it.” His expression was caught between a frown and a baffled smile. “You didn’t even blink.”
“I blinked.” She averted her gaze, feeling a little embarrassed for looking so eager again. “I can’t be out here asking for something unconventional only to turn around and be closed-minded. I promised myself that as long as someone approaches me ingood faith, and it seems like you are, I’d do my best to meet them halfway.”
“I’m getting to that.” He concentrated on the ground for a moment, lips pressed together in a thin line. “I, um…I legally changed my name when I was eighteen. My family is—” He paused, shaking his head. “Sorry. I’ve never had to say this out loud before.”
She slid closer to him, stopping when their knees touched, and looked around the alley to double-check before whispering, “Are you in witness protection?”
