Page 90 of Fan Favorite

“Carole didn’t want me to tell you until the last minute.”

And there it was. Carole. Carole didn’t wantmeto tellyou. Fuck. Peter took a closer look at Jessa. She wasn’t wearing any lipstick. Her sleek ponytail was replaced by a messy bun on top of her head. Sneakers instead of heels. And then he almost laughed. How many times had he walked past a mirror and caught sight of himself with that exact same expression? Like some burnt-out, sad-sack producer, carrying the weight of a show that had brought in $97 million in ad revenue last year?

“Who knows she’s here?” he asked, holding on to hope that if no one knew, he could still stop it.

“A lot of people know, Peter.”

Peter sighed and pushed his laptop aside. After the marching band debacle, he’d grabbed the first PA he saw and told them to fast-track Edie’s phone and computer from the LA offices back to her apartment so Peter—now en route to Los Angeles—could contact her before his flight to Switzerland. He’d emailed her, texted her, checked his phone constantly, but she never responded. So five hours before he boarded the plane for the finale, a Hail Mary: Peter went to the E! studios and did the Seacrest interview, hoping she’d see it, hoping she’d understand just how much he regretted all the ways he’d hurt her. Still nothing. More days passed and now they were minutes away from the final key ceremony. And Edie was back.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t stupid enough to think she was back for him.

“What’s she doing here, Jessa?” he asked, understanding now that they’d gotten her back together with Bennett behind his back. “Are you going to fill me in on the plan? Last I heard I was still the showrunner.”

Jessa sat down across from him. “She’s here to get engaged to Bennett.”

Peter’s heart sank. “She can’t be.”

“She is.”

Peter leaned across the table and stared Jessa down. “She told you that directly? That’s what she said? That’s what she wants?”

“Peter,” Jessa said, softly now, like a best friend delivering hard news. “She’s already in the dress.”

Peter sat back, took his glasses off, and set them on the table. She couldn’t possibly want to get engaged to Bennett. He exhaled a rush of air before crushing his face with both hands,mashing his cheeks together, and rubbing his eyes until little white specks floated across his vision.

He’d tried so hard to throw himself back into work, to box up all his emotions and focus on getting the job done. For two days he’d locked himself in this conference room and focused on organizing his files for his successor. Still, sometimes without warning, he’d been scared he was about to lose it. A clip of her smiling that big smile. Or on the plane, when the in-flight movie options includedCast Away,Forrest Gump, andCatch Me If You Can. His sister kept texting him,Peter, come home. You can stay with us for a while, it will be good for you.And when he was alone in his room at night with nothing but time to think.

She was actually going to go through with it.“So that’s why you want me on the helicopter,” he said finally, putting his glasses back on. “You’re neutering me? On my own fucking show?”

“Peter, I’m sorry,” Jessa said, looking tortured, but not really tortured enough, in Peter’s opinion. “We both know this is your last season. I can’t piss Carole off. I’ve got my own career to think about.” She took her hair down and then twisted it back up again. “And somebody’s got to think aboutThe Key.”

Peter laughed. He’d spent almost his entire professional life thinking aboutThe Key. “So, what, you’re a double agent? My protégé turned mastermind?”

“Peter, c’mon. It’s not like that.”

“Oh, yeah? What’s it like?”

“You lost your shit over this girl, Peter. I’m sorry, but that’s facts.”

“Oh, fuck off,” he said, more venom than he knew he had rising to the surface. “You’ve been waiting for the right moment to push me out. Congratulations.”

“You’re an asshole, you know that?”

“Yeah, I fucking do!”

They stared at each other.

Peter ran his hands through his hair and yanked at the ends before dropping his hands uselessly in his lap. “I’m sorry,” he said. “That was fucked-up. Obviously, you’re not wrong.”

“Obviously,” Jessa said. “Don’t put your shit on me, Peter. We’ve been friends a long time, and I don’t deserve it.”

“You’re right,” he said, chastened. “You don’t.”

“And while you’ve been making a mess, I’ve been cleaning it up.”

He nodded. Jessa was doing what she had to do. She was taking control of production. Jessa was getting it done.

“So, look, this is what’s going to happen,” she continued. “You’re gonna leave it alone. You’re gonna get on the helicopter, you’re gonna direct the sky shots, and then, when it’s a wrap, you’re gonna get on the first flight outta here, go home, and pull yourself together.”

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