I opened the door and grabbed Andie before she could scoot across the back seat, the lurking airport employees at the curb offering looks that varied from sympathetic to scandalized.
“Honey, I hate this more than you do,” I said, trying to hold her still.
“Liar!” Andie heaved. “Nobody wants to be here with us—”
“That is not true! Sweetheart, I can’t find work here. This is the only way—”
“Baba doesn’t have to go anywhere to make money! Your stupid job doesn’t even make sense,” she shrieked, and pried herself out of my arms.
I reached across the seat, but she balled herself up, face red. “Andie, it’s okay you’re angry, all right? Be as angry as you need to be, but I’m hoping tomorrow you’ll be less upset. Maybe even less the next morning,” I said gently. “And I’m going to miss you more and more each day. You know that, right?”
I strained to kiss her cheek, but she frantically covered her face, leaving me to settle for the crown of her head. “I’ll be back before you know it. I love you, sweet girl.”
I extracted myself from the car, only for Andie to rapidly pull the door shut behind me. “This is off to a great start,” I sighed to Jenny.
“They’ll adjust,” she said, relinquishing Wallace, who threw himself at my calves. I lifted him up, reiterating how much I loved him, his hot tears and saliva bleeding down my neck. Ever more ashamed, I looked to my sister, who beat me to the punch: “Don’t. You’re doing thisforthem, remember? Better to miss a couple weeks and bank a nest egg than for that weasel to get full custody.”
She’d been a saint, returning from Philadelphia as soon as I called. As a tenured biology professor, she at least wouldn’t get fired for rushing to her trainwreck brother’s side, insisting the semester was almost over and she’d grade finals remotely. I was just relieved she hadn’t said that she “owed me,” like she’d done when she’d volunteered as our egg donor. No matter what I told her, Jenny would always blame herself for my accident.
“Just be careful,” she continued. “We want you back in one piece.” She inserted her arm between me and Wallace, pulling him from me. He buried his face in her shoulder, a new round of wails as she wrangled him into his car seat. I tapped the window for Andie one last time, but she refused to dignify me. I didn’t blame her.
My sister blew me one last kiss as she got in the driver’s seat, her natural efficiency taking control. Neither of my children glanced my way as she drove off, leaving me dumbstruck on the sidewalk, a statue whose sculptor had hollowed out more stone than intended. Since Barnes moved out, I’d spent more time separated from my kids than all the years before combined. The past weekends had been hard enough. Now my heart was in a back seat speeding down the George Washington Memorial Parkway—and before long would be an ocean away.
I shuffled morosely into the terminal to check my bags, unzipping my duffel for one last look. I’d wrapped in a shirt the picture frame Andie had constructed out of popsicle sticks for my birthday in March. She’d glued on buttons, blue cotton balls, even stealing our spare house key. She’d labeled each stick in Sharpie:family,love,Daddy. I adored it even more because she’d never made an identical one for Barnes—this was mine alone. The frame held a photo of Wallace and Andie from Christmas, staring pensively at the tree, a stolen moment better than any staged smile. I’d restore this calm to their world, even if I had to totally upend it first.
Upon landing at JFK for my layover, I passed a bar where aBeverly Blondererun languished on the TV. The camera cut to Barnes’ old gal pal Greta, her Botoxed brows frozen mid-scream. Was there any hope pretending she didn’t await me in Italy? Though Greta Hendricksen was probably the least of my worries.
The first time I’d been cast, my primary concern was hiding my scars. Now I had to fear strangers recognizing me as “that nymphomaniac senator’s husband.” Hoodie up and sunglasses affixed, I cloistered myself behind a column at the departure gate, no doubt provoking fears of a bomb threat. My nerves vibrated with every passerby. Would an old face from the past stroll up to punch me while they still had the chance?
“Luke!” A sporty guy in his early thirties approached, creamy dress shirt unbuttoned one notch too far, exposing his toned, tan chest. Hemust have sensed my panic, lowering his voice. “Didn’t mean to blow your cover. I’m Troy. We spoke on the phone.”
“Troy!” I exclaimed, lowering my cowl. “I thought the producers were already in Italy?”
“One of us had to come for a final network meeting. Landed yesterday, and now I fly right back with all of you. Sometimes I wonder what I signed up for,” he said with a chuckle.
“I know the feeling,” I sighed. “But I appreciate you inviting me here, I do.”
He beamed, green eyes sparkling. “Are you kidding? The marketing department is doing backflips. Expect your face in Times Square soon!”
“That sounds terrifying.” If I was ever going to wring out more info, now was the time. “So I haven’t seen anybody I know…”
“Ah, people are departing on different flights.”
“I just figured I’d notice someone since the season theme is, how’d you phrase it, ‘Old School versus New School’?”
“Well, that’sonetheme we discussed. It’s so cast-dependent, but I can’t say more.” He wagged a finger playfully. “No extra intel now that you’re officially a contestant.”
“Back in the day it was just, you know, ‘team against team,’ ‘win money.’”
“The fundamental principle still applies. Did you catch up on the show since we spoke?”
“Are you kidding? I barely had time to get my medical approval for the insurance stuff.”
“So you don’t recognizeanyonehere?” he asked in surprise. At least one thing hadn’t changed since I was twenty-two. My pop culture IQ remained zero. “Well, let’s remedy that.”
Troy scanned the crowd, eyes landing on a swarthy young guy with a mop of black hair, built like a tank. “Hartt!” he called. “Hartt’s the perfect buddy for you.”
Hartt was shorter than me, but those inches were made up in hismassive chest, a forest of hair bursting from his taut V-neck. He sauntered up, dull brown eyes framed by silky bangs and thick stubble. “Troy, my man! You chaperoning?”
