“I never watched it. Barnes did, but I…”
“Had other things going on?” he supplied quietly. “I was so sad to hear about your dad. When Imogen told me… I figured the kinder choice was not to intrude.”
I remembered Mitch’s final two weeks that February, the hazy mumbling as he peered into the corners of the ceiling. “It’s always the corners,” the hospice nurse said with sobering neutrality. “That’s where they see their angels.” How many times had I convinced myself I wouldn’t see Arjun’s face one day in my own corners? That I didn’t want him bounding down the hospital hallway with stale coffee? That I wanted no one but Barnes clutching my hand?
The hot tub timer clicked, the water abruptly ceasing to churn, and we broke eye contact in the silence. “You know, I’ve been thinking lately about what people owe each other, to family, friends, themselves… Who takes priority,” he finally continued.
I sniffed ruefully. “What did you decide, O philosopher king?”
“That if the ranking’s fixed, somebody you care about always loses.That person never comes first. And for a long time, that was you for me.” I’d never seen him like this, no charm, no arrogance. He was justthere, the boy who’d run away. “Are you happy with him?” he asked.
“Of course.”
He nodded, taking my answer at face value or trying to. “Well, if anyone deserves to leave here on a high note, it’s you.”
“Leave here?”
“It’s obviously your last season. I know a farewell tour when I see one.”
He stared expectantly at me, but I knew there was no point in denying it. “So let’s send you off right, then? One last LuMoJun victory for old times’ sake,” he said, cracking a barely there smile that still made me ache. “We started this as friends. Can we finish it that way?”
“I’d like that,” I quietly answered. “I’d like that a lot.”
Afterward I pulled Barnes into a shower in the communal bathroom, water cloaking us.
“Who made the first move?” he asked.
“He started talking on his own. He wants to bury the hatchet. Clean slate.”
“You gotthatfar in one conversation? Look at my big bad double agent go,” Barnes teased, slyly kissing me. “Your plan’s off to a great start…”
I barreled through bench presses, shaking off the past as my torso throbbed in the present, the New Zealand peaks dissolving to a blurry watercolor in the foggy gym windows. I hurried to wash up, to isolate myself even longer, except the last person I wanted to find me did.
“I thought you’d been raptured,” PB said, cornering me by the sink as I shaved.
“God would certainly be grading on a curve. What’s up?”
PB offered me a washcloth. “Just wanted to check how you’re doing. Post-Shawn.”
I shrugged; it was a decent explanation for why I was cagey. PB faced the mirror, our reflections murky in the sweaty glass. “I’m glad you saw him before he left. I was crazy pissed after what he did, but for some reason I can’t help rooting for the puppy to grow into his paws.”
“I wouldn’t have pegged you for a softy.”
“That’s me, love’s bitch,” he said wryly. “Speaking of the little cummer boy, if he is in fact able to earn his way back into your good graces, maybe we all do a trip on Labor Day?”
I turned to him. “Are you serious?”
“Or just us and Melange.” He wiped the mirror to pick at a little pimple on the edge of his lip. “Maybe Imogen and Erika, too, if they can stomach an Airbnb with me. Nothing crazy, just like the North Fork or something. And if you bring the rugrats, I’ll even donate a night of babysitting. This won’t come as a shock, but I am a Monopoly master.”
I wasn’t sure what surprised me more, that I wanted PB in my life after this game or that he wanted me in his. “You know what, sure… Let’s talk about it once we’re home?”
“You mean once we’ve punted your ex-husband through the goalpost of public opinion, you’ve banked $5 million, and I’m hosting America’s favorite reality show? You mean then?” He punched me lightly on the arm, smiling like a little boy, broad and painfully sincere.
I wondered if I should just tell him about Vanessa. There wasn’t a camera in sight—I could even say I’d waited specifically for that reason—but then he was gone to change into his uniform for the Trial. And PB had hid stuff from me countless times, I reminded myself. I’d seen it was in my best interest.
As we stepped off the vans that night for the Trial, Troy deftly pulled me aside, nodding toward PB. “How was the convo? He’s remarkably chill all things considered.”
“You know PB,” I said, aiming for nonchalance. “Game above all.”
