Chapter 32

CHAPTER 32

ZAYN

W e were all crammed into Jay's truck, the bench seat feeling especially cozy as we bounced down the road. All three of us were quiet, lost in our own thoughts. The visit had been short and sweet. I understood a lot more about Marigold now. I didn't like the bullshit she had to put up with. Courtney was a total bitch and I was glad Marigold tossed the drink in her face. She had gotten off easy after hassling Marigold for years.

Soon, the truck pulled up outside the airport. I opened the door and slid out, helping Marigold down as well. Jay ambled around the back and pulled our suitcases from the back of the truck. I was certain my Louis Vuitton bag had never been exposed to riding in a truck bed.

But we were in Wyoming, and I wasn't about to complain about the mistreatment of my very expensive bag.

"Zayn," Jay said, his voice low and firm, "I need to have a word with you."

Marigold was standing beside me, her expression curious and concerned. I shifted uncomfortably under Jay's intense stare, feeling a wave of anxiety mixed with the lingering unease from last night's fish dinner. My stomach was already feeling off, and I didn't need this added stress.

I followed him around the truck, leaving Marigold standing on the curb.

Jay wasted no time getting right to what he had to say. "Look, I know this is all just a show, but you need to understand something. Marigold's a good girl. She's from a small town. She's a fish out of water in the city. All it would take is one wrong move on your part, and the public will turn on her. She's too kind for her own good, na?ve like her mother was. Don't take advantage of that."

His words were a harsh reminder of the delicate balance we were maintaining. I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, feeling the discomfort in my stomach intensify. Jay's stern look did nothing to ease my growing nausea.

"I appreciate the heads-up, Jay," I managed to say, trying to sound sincere despite my rolling stomach. "I've got no intention of doing anything that would hurt Marigold. I'm here to play my part, not to mess things up. We've got a contract in place. I respect your daughter and I will never do anything to disrespect her. She's helping me out during a difficult situation and the last thing I would ever do is punish her for that."

Jay's eyes softened slightly, but his gaze remained wary. I was a city boy. I wasn't like him. I knew deep down he didn't really trust me. I didn't blame him. My arrangement with Marigold was far from traditional.

"Good," he said. "That's all I ask. Take care of her, okay?"

"I will," I said, meaning it.

Jay gave Marigold a quick, heartfelt hug before she stepped back to stand beside me. "Take care, sweetheart. I'll see you soon."

With that, Jay turned and got back in the truck. Marigold waved at him as he drove away. I felt a wave of nausea hit me again. I had to steady myself against the wall. The fish from last night was clearly not sitting well with me. Jay and Marigold seemed to be fine but not me.

I didn't have their grizzly-bear stomachs where I could eat fish straight out of a river. Her father had cooked them, but still. Whatever the hell was gnawing at my guts, I was hurting. Now I had to endure a cramped, economy flight back to New York.

Marigold noticed my discomfort and immediately stepped into action. "Are you okay, Zayn? You look a little green around the gills."

"Don't mention gills." I forced a weak smile. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just not feeling the best after last night's fish."

"Let's get you some ginger ale. It might help settle your stomach."

We went into the airport, checked in, and made it through security. Then we walked to a nearby café. Even the smell of food was nauseating. Marigold bought two ginger ales and we found our gate. I slumped gratefully into a seat, feeling utterly miserable. I grumbled about how I should have just ordered pizza instead of eating the fish Jay had prepared.

"I knew it was a bad idea," I muttered. "Food needs to be inspected and labeled by professionals."

Marigold handed me the ginger ale with a sympathetic smile. "It wasn't the fish, Zayn. You're just feeling the stress of everything. Dad's words have you wound up, and that's not helping your stomach."

I took a sip of the ginger ale, hoping it would provide some relief. "Maybe. But seeing Jay gut and behead that fish didn't help my appetite."

Marigold chuckled softly, shaking her head. "Oh, whatever. If that fish had been served at your brother's restaurant, he'd call it farm-to-table fresh and charge two hundred dollars for it."

"You're not wrong," I said, forcing a small smile. "I guess I just don't want to look behind the curtain. My food and I shouldn't meet until it's just meat on my plate. I don't need to witness it being gutted and decapitated."

Marigold laughed lightly, her green eyes twinkling with amusement. "You city boys are all the same," she teased, ruffling my hair with her hand. "A little bit of nature and you all turn green."

"I'm not turning green," I protested feebly, taking another sip of my ginger ale. It did little to ease the discomfort in my stomach. "I'm just not used to it."

"Used to what? Fish?"

"Nature." I shrugged. "It's like the wild frontier out here, living off the land and killing what you eat. I was raised on solid concrete and steel high-rises. My food was all purchased. I think you and your dad have the right gut bacteria to tolerate whatever that fish swims in. My gut does not have those same bacteria."

Marigold shook her head again, sighing with a sort of fond exasperation. "At least you admit that New York has spoiled you," she said, her voice filled with mock reproach. "And here I thought you were tougher than that. My mistake."

"I am tough," I retorted, trying to inject some humor into my voice despite the discomfort I was feeling. "Just not Wyoming-fish tough."

She giggled at that. "It was just trout, not some exotic species. But I'm sorry you have a tummy ache. Let me know if you need anything else to help settle it."

I nodded. "Thanks. How about we ditch this flight and charter a private plane back?"

"Oh my god," she said, smiling. "Flying like a regular person one more time won't kill you."

"That remains to be seen," I said with a sigh.

Marigold kept a careful eye on me as we waited for our flight. The boarding process began, and I took deep breaths, trying to calm my stomach. I was dreading the economy accommodations. I was pretty sure this was going to be seventh circle of hell.

We made our way to the back of the plane. Two rows from the back to be exact—nice and super bumpy and the last to deplane. The only silver lining was the bathroom was close by, in case my body decided to rebel on me.

The plane was as cramped and uncomfortable as I'd expected. The heat of the cabin made my situation worse, and the clashing smells of people's perfume and general body odor didn't help either. I settled into my tiny seat, feeling another wave of nausea roll over me again.

Marigold, sitting beside me, noticed my distress. She quickly reached for the barf bag in the seat pocket and handed it to me with a concerned look. "Here, just in case."

I took the bag gratefully, trying to focus on my breathing. The plane taxied down the runway, and the feeling of taking off only made my stomach churn more. It felt like the trout had come back to life and was swimming in my guts.

"I'm really sorry about this," I groaned, clutching the bag. "This is not how I want you to see me."

Marigold placed a reassuring hand on my arm. "It's okay, Zayn. Just try to relax. Slow, deep breaths."

As the plane reached cruising altitude, Marigold's presence was the only thing keeping me from losing my mind and my dinner. She managed to get a bag of ice from a flight attendant, which she placed gently on the back of my neck. The coolness was a relief, though it didn't completely dispel the nausea.

"You're a good nurse," I said weakly, trying to shift my focus away from the unpleasant feeling.

Marigold smiled, her eyes twinkling with a mix of amusement and sympathy. "I've had some practice. My mom used to get motion sickness, so I learned a few tricks."

"Thanks for being so kind," I said. "I really appreciate it."

Marigold leaned closer, her voice taking on a more playful tone. "Since we're stuck together for the next few hours, let's talk about something else. It will help distract you. And on that note, I've been thinking about our engagement."

That caught my attention. "I knew it. You're breaking up with me." I smiled at her through my discomfort. "I don't blame you. I'm a mess right now. Totally unmarriable."

She grinned. "No, quite the opposite. I think we should make it public."

"Can we wait until this stomach bug passes?" I asked. "This is the least photogenic I've ever been."

She laughed. "Of course. We need to announce it tastefully and start planning. It needs to be us making the announcement instead of it leaking out. People are going to start asking questions, and we should be prepared."

I swallowed hard. "Before we do that, I think it might be a good idea for you to meet my family. It'll make the announcement more grounded. And not all of them know. They can't know."

Marigold frowned slightly. "Why does it matter if I meet your family first? If this is all a sham, does it really make a difference?"

I gritted my teeth, a fresh wave of nausea hitting me with a bump of turbulence. "Hey, I just met your father and had a good time, my intestinal distress aside. And I promise we won't give you food poisoning." Another wave of sickness hit me, and I clutched my stomach. "I'm gonna hurl."

Marigold's eyes widened with concern. She hurriedly grabbed the barf bag from my hand. "Hold on, Zayn. I'll help you."

She helped me position the bag and made soothing noises as I fought off the urge to vomit. The situation was far from ideal. In fact, I was mortified. I had never been so weak in all my life. I was completely helpless. I had zero control over what was happening in my stomach and that was what bothered me the most. I was a man used to being in control all the time.

The tiny airplane seat, combined with the crowded conditions, made it all the more uncomfortable. But Marigold's presence was a steadying force.

"You're doing great," she said softly. "Just breathe. In through your nose, out through your mouth."

I took deep breaths, focusing on Marigold's calming presence. The ice on my neck and her gentle words were a small comfort amidst the chaos of my stomach and flying commercial. The nausea gradually subsided, and I managed to sit back in my seat, feeling a bit more stable.

"Thanks," I said, feeling a bit embarrassed. "I owe you one."

Marigold smiled. "No need to thank me. I just want you to feel better."

To distract myself, I decided to engage in some light banter. "So, how about we talk about those wedding plans? What's your dream wedding like?"

Marigold's eyes lit up with interest, and she began describing her ideal wedding—an intimate ceremony with close friends and family, simple yet elegant. I found myself drawn in, momentarily forgetting my discomfort. She had obviously been thinking about her wedding for a long time. I supposed that was pretty normal.

As we talked, I began to feel a bit better. Marigold's playful banter and flirtatious remarks helped take my mind off things. Her laughter and the way she playfully teased me made the flight more bearable. I was still miserable, but it didn't feel nearly as horrible being squished into this giant metal tube with a couple hundred other people.

By the time we landed, I felt more composed, though the experience had been far from enjoyable. And certainly not one I planned on repeating if I could help it.

And I could help it.

Marigold's care and the distraction of our conversation had helped me get through the trip without completely losing my dignity. But it had been pretty damn close.

As we disembarked, I felt a wave of relief at being on solid ground again. Marigold looked at me with a mixture of concern and affection.

"Feeling better?" she asked.

I nodded, giving her a grateful smile. "Much better, thanks to you."

"Glad to hear it."

As we walked through the airport, I couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for Marigold. Despite the discomfort and the awkwardness of the situation, she had been a rock, helping me through it all. As we headed toward the baggage claim, I couldn't shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, things might turn out better than I'd expected.

This whole thing was supposed to be fake, but I was starting to realize I truly liked being around her. She was quickly becoming another half of me. Someone I could lean on. Someone I felt was more like a partner than an employee hired to do a job.

It was dangerous but also exciting.