Page 91 of Fan Favorite

Peter hated this plan. He glanced at the clock. Twenty-seven minutes to the finale. He’d already given up so much to ensure this season got over the finish line. Maybe it was time to accept it—Edie didn’t want him. From the very beginning she’d come here to get engaged to Bennett Charles, and didn’t Peter promise her that? Maybe, after all he’d put her through, the only thing to do now was get out of the way.

Jessa reached across the table and took his hand.

“I’m sorry. I know you liked her.”

Peter stared at the useless printer sitting at the end of the table. Despite two days of visits from the Alpina Gstaad’s IT department, the printer continued to flash error messages in German and had never, not once, spit out a single call sheet.

“Does everyone know?”

“I don’t think so. No one important, at least.”

And then she squeezed his hand before getting up and walking out.

Edie was about to get engaged and Peter was going to have to watch the whole thing play out from a helicopter in the sky. He stood up, grabbed the printer off the table and shook it, hard. Suddenly the printer roared to life, ground its gears, and delivered two days’ worth of pages onto the floor.

Edie had been trying to get to Peter for two days now. But from the moment she stepped off the plane, she’d been a hostage. Three random producers and two security guys had met her at the airport and refused to answer any of her questions during the two-hour drive to the Alpina Gstaad, the luxurious Swiss resort where she’d be imprisoned. They escorted her straight to her room, where both the TV and phone had been removed. When her luggage showed up, the iPad she’d stowed in a sweater was gone. Still, Edie didn’t really start to worry about her plan until she opened her door at two a.m. and there was a security guard popping his gum on the other side.

What was her plan exactly? Fly to Switzerland, find Peter. That was it. Unfortunately, she hadn’t accounted for the whole prisoner thing. Or that Peter wouldn’t be around during her interviews, dress fittings, and B-roll shoots featuring Edie strolling the snowy grounds, draped in a scarf so long it wrapped around her neck three times andstilldangled past her knees. Every time she was out of her room, Edie frantically scanned the lobby, the restaurant, the ballroom, for Peter. Once she pretended to be confused by the bathroom signage and found herself hissing, “Peter? Peter?” by some fancy urinals.

“Where’s Peter?” Edie asked Jessa casually. “Shouldn’t he be here?”

“Peter’s doing press in LA.”

But Edie knew Peter wasn’t in LA. He was here, at the Alpina Gstaad. She could feel him in the efficiency of the production schedule, in the way everyone waited for the lighting to be just right before taking the shot, and in the carafe of mushroom coffee she’d spotted on the craft services table that no one in their right mind would drink but him.

When she woke up on the morning of the finale and still hadn’t found him, Edie really started to get nervous. Everyone kept hugging her and congratulating her, as if it were a given that she would get engaged to Bennett Charles today. Typically, the finale was built upon the suitor making a tortured choice betweentwocontestants. But when Edie asked what had happened to Lily, Max, and Bailey, no one would tell her anything about the lock-ins or if any of her friends were here now. None of this was working out like she’d hoped, and when she approached Jessa about calling the whole thing off, Jessa said, “Oh, hell no, you’re not Julia Roberts. You don’t get to pull theRunaway Bridething more than once,” and then she’d dragged Edie off to get her makeup done.

For six hours she was plucked, painted, glued, brushed, curled, and cinched. And when they brought her to a full-length mirror for the big reveal, she had to admit she looked gorgeous. The gown, a seven-thousand-dollar white Marchesa with a sequined bodice and feathered skirt, was the most luxe dress Edie had ever seen, much less worn. Her extension-laden hair flowed down her back in gorgeous waves. Diamond earrings dangled from her ears. Delicate Jimmy Choo strappy sandals adorned her feet. The overall effect was stunning.

And completely bridal.

Jessa approached with a lush white fur coat. She draped it over Edie’s shoulders like she was some glorious snow princess from Narnia.

“Jessa, seriously, I can’t do this.”

“Of course you can.” Jessa bared her teeth and pointed for Edie to do the same. She checked for errant lipstick. “All your dreams are about to come true.”

“You have to listen to me,” Edie insisted. “I don’t want to marry Bennett.”

Jessa laughed and floofed Edie’s hair. “Who said anything about marrying Bennett? It’s only an engagement.” Jessa considered Edie in the mirror for a long moment before taking her by the shoulders and spinning her around. “Look, I don’t care if you turn down his proposal. Carole won’t like it, but she’ll deal. I don’t hate a feminist, I-choose-me moment.” Jessa arranged Edie’s hair around her shoulders. “Bailey’s here. Did you know that? She looks beautiful, too. Like a bride.”

“Bailey?”

“It’s so weird, but it seems like she really loves him, don’t you think?” Jessa cocked her head and was quiet for a moment. But then she smiled wide. “Okay! Let’s go!”

Peter shrugged on his Burberry peacoat and walked through the lobby, past a tuxedoed Bennett Charles in the final stages of mic check, through the massive kitchen and out the back door of the hotel. Snow crunched under his loafers as he followed Ted across the lawn and into the waiting helicopter.

The helicopter lurched into the sky with the door wide open. Peter closed his eyes. Ted couldn’t film with the door closed, and as freezing cold air whooshed into the cabin, Peter waited for his anxiety to take over. They rose higher. Peter opened his eyes. Apparently, his heart was too broken to bother scaring the shit out of him. He leaned over and looked out the window.

The view was spectacular. The ground blanketed in fresh snow. The towering fir trees all dusted in white. The mountainsrising into the sky, dwarfing the hotel’s turrets below. Typically, natural beauty like this would make Peter think about God—whatever God was—and he’d remember that he was just some minuscule part of some great big universe, and he’d feel centered in a way, understand that everything in his life both mattered and didn’t. But now, the grandeur only clarified that he was a real fucking idiot who’d majorly bungled his shot at being a decent person during his limited time on earth. Maybe that was dramatic, but now it seemed clear that Peter had spent literal years of his life prioritizing his career. Happily taking advantage of people, with very little reflection on his own culpability or intentions. He’d ignored his family because he’d been ashamed and couldn’t handle seeing the disappointment on their faces. And now that he finally understood all that really mattered was who you loved and how you loved them, it was too late. He was stuck in a helicopter while the love of his life was about to get engaged to the biggest douchebag of all time.

Ted handed him an iPad.

“That’ll pick up visual from below,” Ted said into his headphone’s mic. He pointed to a button on-screen. “Press that and you’ll get the feed up here as well.”

Peter nodded.

“She’s coming out now.”

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