While leery glances rippled through the cast, Imogen shoved past everyone to board the bus as soon as cameras went down. I tried to catch her, but Erika halted me. “Let me try,” she whispered, joining Imogen in the coach’s back row.
The bus bled into the rush-hour arteries churning between Shanghai’s skyscrapers, and eventually we arrived at a towering luxury hotel on the famous Nanjing Road. I instantly recognized the Marco Polo logo, as Barnes always stayed in their Beverly Hills location for LA fundraisers. No doubt they were paying the network a fortune for the product placement. Smiling ladies in silver qipaos greeted us with champagne at the glass doors, prompting Melange to glare. “They’re housing us in five-star lodging. Anybody else suspicious?”
We drifted through the onyx tomb of a lobby, the ceiling decorated with hundreds of dangling white orchids, and took the elevator to a breathtaking penthouse of glass and marble, all bathed in velvety indigos and periwinkles. We stood awestruck before Fortune led the way. “Bedrooms are back here.”
“You psychic now?” PB asked.
“Worked security on a Spice Girls tour in the ’90s. They’ve redone the floors, though.”
As Melange hounded Fortune for details, I noticed a monumental landscape painting in the entry, a cliff made of thick ink strokes that microscopic pilgrims climbed to reach a tiny temple. The Bosch puzzle was too fresh; I’d memorize every detail later.
Shawn found me soon after in the ivory carpeted hall. “No bunks,” he said eagerly.
The spacious bedroom he’d claimed was indeed a far cry from our Italian barracks, complete with two queen beds sporting lush white comforters and silk sheets. “Only two beds in each room, and while there is a camera in that corner”—he playfully pushed a door open with his hip—“the bathroom is another story.”
He backed into the luminous en suite, beckoning me to follow. I wasshocked. While there had occasionally been rewards back in the day, we’d never been housed in sustained luxury like this. Or anything resembling an oasis of privacy. “So… roomies?” He grinned.
As if on cue, I heard Troy interfacing with an interpreter in the hall, and the last thing I needed was him fixating on this story point. I discreetly shut the bathroom door, turning on the shower to scramble the sound for our mic packs.
“I mean, it’s almost like a sign, right?” Shawn whispered. “You wanted us to have more privacy to figure this out, and now look around.”
“Totally.” I nodded nervously. “I’m just wondering if I should abandon PB.”
“He already snagged a room with Aspen. Keep the enemy close, I guess…” Shawn blinked, shifting his weight. “Luke, I know I was all over the place in Italy, but this isn’t about jumping your bones. This is me—fully sober this time—saying I want to get to know you more. We have this whole freakin’ palace to ourselves, and that kind of feels… I don’t know, magical?” He smiled hesitantly. “But I get it… if it’s too much.”
No matter what we pretended, this was gas on a fire—and wasn’t I currently divorcing the last man I’d shared a hotel room with on this show? No matter how the game tricked us into thinking time had passed, I hardly knew Shawn. All I really knew was… he was someone I wanted to protect. And—I couldn’t deny it—he was someone who might one day make Barnes jealous. “No, I’d love to room with you.”
He blushed, relieved. “Don’t worry. We’ll room slowly…”
He squeezed my hand with such tenderness in his eyes that I kissed his forehead before I even knew what I was doing, as if it was instinct, caught between reason and something else. Because we weren’t on camera. Because he’d said the right things. Because I wanted to. And at least for those few stolen minutes, I convinced myself that was okay—until I noticed his eyes had gone glassy, elsewhere.
“Hey, why the about-face?”
“Jet lag,” he said softly. “Go call the kids. Tell them about the baby turtles.”
But their interest in the turtles was fleeting. “When do you see apanda?!”
“Wally, I’ll keep my eyes open but I’m not sure we’ll see any pandas.” Across the room, Zara chuckled and shook her head.
“Stop with the pandas.” Andie bumped her brother. “Daddy, what about the competitions? What was the last one?”
Zara whispered, “Be vague, please.”
“We raced boats today?” I offered, and Andie’s face fell. “What’s that look?”
She shifted in her seat grudgingly. “I wanted to try whatever you’re doing.”
“Whoa, does that mean Daddy’s officially out of the doghouse?”
“Aunt Jenny was telling us what some of the games are like,” Andie replied, curiosity glimmering all over her face. “Do they really swing you through the air?”
“Sometimes… Maybe your aunt and I can find some clips for you to watch?” Both kids lit up, as if I’d promised them a full-time relocation to Disney World. How had I been so dense not to think of that sooner? As disastrous as certain episodes were, watching a game of water polo wouldn’t traumatize them. “Just to be clear, it would be way more fun if you were here with me. I only want to win because of you two. You know that, right?”
“We know, Daddy,” Andie said, leaning into the camera intensely. “So don’t suck!”
I couldn’t help but laugh, elated the kids were not only getting invested in the game but also maybe starting to grasp why I was here. I spent the rest of the call brainstorming kid-friendly Tribulations with Andie and was still ruminating later when a knock came at our bedroom door.
I was careful not to wake Shawn, already fast asleep, curly locks adorably spilling over his pillow. My smile vanished when I found Imogen atthe door, looking like she hadn’t slept since we’d left Tuscany. “Solana and Tati are having a knock-down-drag-out, so we don’t have much time,” she said, excruciatingly all business. “I messed up today, I won’t deny it. I was getting used to your… presence, but being partners freaked me out.”
