Page 83 of Fan Favorite

“I can tell.” Peter sighed and took a step toward her. “But don’t you think this is just a misunderstanding?” he offered. “That if you really think about it, there are all these outside factors—the show, whatever. But without them, everything would be fine? We’d be happy?”

“In what way?”

“In the way that obviously I didn’t want you to go on an overnight date with Bennett and that I want us to be together.”

Edie threw her hands in the air. “How is that obvious, Peter?”

“How does everything that happened last night not make it obvious?”

“You left! I woke up and poof, you were gone!” She crossed the room toward him, her gray eyes angry. “And then Jessa shows up to get me ready for my lock-in. You do the math—it’s literallynotobvious at all.”

“Edie, come on. I just wanted a second to figure out how to handle things.” Peter took off his glasses and pressed the heel of his hand to his eye. “You forget I have to deal with an entire show. I can’t just drop everything.”

“How could I forget that, Peter?” she yelled. “And amInot part of the show? Isn’t it your literal job to make sureI’mokay?”

“You don’t get it!” he yelled back. “To run something like this, you have to be willing to piss people off. To hurt feelings. You think the CEO of Starbucks doesn’t know his plastic cups are suffocating the planet? That sea turtles have them stuck on their heads like fucking party hats? But to lead an organization like that, you’ve got to be willing to say, fuck the turtles, what my board wants is plastic cups, and I serve at the pleasure of the board. It’s the same here—I don’t want to be concerned about the narrative, but it’s literallymy jobto think about this from all angles. You’re already all over the tabloids—”

“Wait,what?”

“I’m handling it. The important thing is, of coursein theoryI want to run off together, but you don’t get what that meansin practice. Do you want paparazzi staked out in front of your apartment? Do you want me to get sued by an entire television network? Do you want the narrative to get so out of control that all of a sudden you’ve got Bennett Charles giving interviews about how you used him, lied to him, cheated on him?” Peter held his hands up. “I get it—it’s not like that—but it doesn’t matter what it’s like. What matters is who’s in control of the story, and right now, thanks to your little escape routine, it’s not us.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Edie said, her tone saccharine. “I’m so sorry that being abandoned by a man who may or may not love me is triggering for me.” She slit her eyes. “I see now it was inconvenient for you.”

“I didn’t abandon you! I left because I needed to figure out what we were going to do!”

“Exactly!” Edie pointed a finger at him, victorious. “That’s not how relationships work, Peter.Youdon’t leave and decide what’s going to happen next.Wedecidetogetherwhat’s going to happen next.”

For a second, Peter felt like he’d been slugged. He’d never once considered that perhaps he should get her input on howthey should proceed. And then, all at once, he realized that at no point when he was lying there losing his mind did he ever think, even for a second, that he could turn to her and ask what to do. Or even just seek comfort in her arms. This knowledge, that Peter had no idea how to actually be a partner to anyone, took his breath away.

“I just… I just…” Edie wiped a tear with the back of her hand. “I just don’t understand why you have to be so disappointing,” she said finally.

The truth of that statement was almost too much to bear. Without thinking, Peter struck back. “Maybe because I’m an actual fucking person, Edie, not just some idea you made up in your head. And maybe if you’d drop the romcom bullshit and meet me here in the real world, we could work it out.”

Edie took a step back like she’d been slapped. Immediately he was filled with regret.

“Edie—”

Peter’s phone began to ring. He fished it out of his pocket. Carole Steele. Fuck. “Just give me a second.” Peter braced himself for whatever came next. “Hi, Carole.”

“Peter, I look at you and I think, ‘How in the hell did men ever rule the world?’ you’re so fucking stupid.”

“Good to hear from you, Carole,” Peter said flatly. He paced the living room. “I’m happy to report we’re close to getting today’s drama worked out.”

“I’m so glad to hear it. Except it’s just like a man to take credit for a woman’s work.”

Peter’s stomach dropped—what in the hell was Carole talking about? Sweat pricked his neck and his ears started to ring, like the tinny sound of trumpets, far away but increasing. He paced past the coffee table. Beneath a sweating glass of water was a yearbook, flopped open to a spread of senior portraits. One in particular—one Peter was all too familiar withby now—was framed in a thick, hand-drawn, heart. Suddenly, Peter was struck by the fact that Edie never explicitly said she was falling in love with him, too. And that, perhaps, he’d just decided that she was.

“Once it became clear you couldn’t bring this over the finish line, I stepped in,” Carole continued. “So why don’t you meet me outside. We’ll have a little chat.”

Suddenly Peter couldn’t breathe. Carole Steele was here? In Chicago?

The sound of trumpets was rising, louder now, and Edie was at the window. There was a whoosh of air as Lauren rushed to join her. Drums. Cymbals. Flutes. The cacophony came closer and closer until he understood what Carole had done.

She’d taken over.

30

Advancing en masse down Edie Pepper’s quiet Roscoe Village street was, quite unbelievably, a marching band. Strutting five across, the band members’ feet struck the pavement with military precision, each step sending shockwaves through the plumes in their caps. White-gloved hands thrust trumpets, trombones, flutes, and piccolos into the air in synchronized choreography. And there, leading the charge with the enthused high steps of an aging band teacher, was Bennett Charles and his bass drum—BONG BONG BONG—charting the tempo like a heartbeat.

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