He knows what I’m asking—is this worth the time alone to him?
“Yeah,” he says without hesitation. He takes my hand, and I grip his tightly back.
I can practically feel the cameras zooming in.
Monroe and the Not-Wives emerge from the tents, all in new outfits—though other than Monroe, who is in full professional mode in yet another pantsuit, this one in a tan linen, they’re all wearing essentially the same type of sleek fitness wear they were wearing before, though different ones from any of the other outfits I’ve seen them in.The clothes all look brand new, and Destyny even has a tag still hanging out of the back of her pants.
Is there a Lululemon store in one of those tents?
I go to retrieve our lava lamp, and with a mutual sigh, Jason and I join the others by the pink couch. Monroe sits right in the middle of it, claiming it for herself since none of us want to get close to the growlingTiberius.There are several yoga mats set out on the ground for each of us, lined up together in pairs.
It’s pretty clear who these pairs are supposed to be: Jason and me (obviously), Destyny and Genesis (obviously), and Kate and Calista (by default, I’m assuming, though I wonder if the fight about the Botox party was stirred up specifically for them to have something to work out).
Jason and I are directed to the mats in the middle, and he is eagerly eyed by all the Not-Wives, except for Monroe, who setsTiberius next to her on the couch and adjusts his little sparkly vest and bowtie.
“Hi, Jason!” Destyny says brightly. “And Emily.”This less brightly, though at least not with derision. Genesis rolls her eyes as Destyny puffs out her chest. Oh my god. Could they be more obvious? At least Destyny’s clueless attempts at flirting are kind of amusing.
Kate gives him a coy smile. “Looks like you had a good workout,” she says. She runs a hand through her long, dark ponytail, which is draped over one shoulder. Her hand runs down a little past the ponytail onto her cleavage.
Apparently theycanbe more obvious, and I find Kate far less amusing. I don’t give her the satisfaction of glaring at her.
Jason, for his part, gives them both a tight smile and looks relieved when Monroe tells us we’re about to start, once she gets her “therapy tools” ready. His clear discomfort is kind of strange—girls flirting with Jason isn’t unusual. He’s hot and also down-to-earth and approachable, so I totally get it. He’s really good at being friendly back without being too solicitous. And he doesn’t usually seem this uncomfortable with it all.
Is this because of the problems we’re having? Or did I make him super unsure how to act around these women after my admittedly super-confusing, conflicted feelings on him saying that they aren’t attractive? God, when did I get so freaking messed up?
There’s no way in hell I’m admitting anything about that in front of these very women, but fortunately, it soon appears that I won’t need to. Because, according to Monroe, we’re going to be “processing our feelings through play.”
We aren’t given much time to wonder what she means. Very quickly, we’re assigned items from her plastic tubs. Kate and Calista are given a croquet set, which some PAs get ready while the cameras swing over to Destyny and Genesis, who are each given a small canvas and some thick paints.
Jason and I are handed a bucket of Lincoln Logs, which is no less ridiculous than the lava lamp sitting next to us, but he actually looks excited, which makes me smile.
“I used to play with these all the time,” he says. “We’re going to rock this.”
“Totally,” I say, though for all I know, we’re going to be told to set fire to them and chant our issues into the fabric of the universe.
Monroe clears her throat and we all turn to her. “Kate and Calista,” she says. “As you can see, you two will be playing croquet, taking turns trying to get a ball through a hoop. When you each succeed, you will move onto the next one.”
I’ve never played croquet, but I’m pretty sure what she’s describing is actually mini-golf with croquet equipment.
“Each time one of you manages to get the ball through a hoop,” Monroe continues, “the other will express one sentence of how the dinner party makes you feel. Calmly, of course. I don’t want any drama here.”
I snort at this, and everyone looks at me. Monroe glares. Jason grins.
Worth it.
“Emily and Jason,” Monroe says, in a frostier tone than before, “you will be working together to create a building that is a representation of your relationship.”
I eye the pieces skeptically. As far as I know, there’s only one thing you can build with these things. “So . . . a log cabin?”
“Of your relationship,” Monroe emphasizes.
Well, that clears it up.
Jason, though, doesn’t look worried. He’s squinting at the logs, clearly already building in his mind. I’m glad we’re not working on separate buildings, or this timeI’dbe the one inadvertently making something that looks like a dick.
Is that even possible with Lincoln Logs?
“Destyny and Genesis,” Monroe says. “You will be painting what you feel is the truest representation of each other.”
