Page 40 of Fan Favorite

T he hot topic of conversation as the cast boarded the plane to Scotland was: where in the world was Bennett Charles?

Because no one had seen him at the gate.

And he certainly wasn’t crammed into coach with the six remaining contestants and the production crew.

And he wasn’t with Peter and Jessa in business, either—Aspen had already snuck around the curtain to check.

Without their phones, social media, or even a book to distract them, the girls were obsessed. Where was Bennett?

“Maybe he’s on a different flight?” McKayla posited.

“You fucking think?” Zo huffed.

Edie, however, wasn’t thinking about Charlie at all because she’d not only scored an entire row to herself at the back of the plane, but also an Us Weekly from a flight attendant.

“I don’t know how you can read that stuff,” a voice from above said once they’d reached cruising altitude. “I can’t get through the first page without my face melting off from the heat of my own superiority.”

Edie looked up and there was Peter leaning against the empty seat across the aisle.

“While I appreciate the attempt at self-awareness,” she said, “I don’t believe for a second you’re not interested in Demi Lovato’s new collab with Fabletics.”

Peter laughed. “Just don’t let the boss catch you with contraband. I heard he’s a real dick.”

“The worst,” she agreed. “But I swear to god, Peter, if you confiscate this magazine, I will pop the emergency hatch and sail off into the atmosphere.”

“Well, we can’t have that.” Peter moved out of the aisle so the flight attendant and her drink cart could get through.

“You might as well tell me what it says about the show.” He plopped down in the empty seat across from Edie.

The space was too small for his long legs and Edie watched as he folded, crossed, and shifted his body around, trying to make it work.

“You gonna be okay? Coach life isn’t for everyone.”

Peter settled on pressing his knees into the seatback with his spine straight and his feet flat on the floor. He clapped his palms on his thighs and looked around, nodding as he took in the glory of coach. “I think I can handle it. I’m tougher than I look, Pepper.”

“Are you, though?”

“What’s the litmus? Bennett Charles? ’Cause I have it on good authority he’s not as tough as he looks. And that authority is me.”

“Who breaks their nose at a volleyball game they’re not even playing in?”

“Edie,” Peter said seriously. “I’ve been telling Jessa that for weeks.”

They smiled at each other until the vibe shifted from an innocent pleasure at being together into an uncomfortable awareness of that pleasure. Edie looked away first, flipping the magazine to “Wyatt Cash is ‘Thrilled’ for Bennett Charles, Reveals Top Key Picks” before handing it across the aisle.

“Spoiler alert: Bailey, Zo, and Aspen are the frontrunners for the extreme sportsman’s heart.”

“Well,” Peter said with a conspiratorial look, “ US Weekly hasn’t met you yet.

” He gave the sidebar a once-over before tossing the magazine back to her.

“It’s amazing what they’ll report. When I worked on Survivor , a contestant broke his tooth in half, spit it out, kept playing, and no one would pick it up.

The story, not the tooth. But if a Key girl walks into a Starbucks, everyone goes nuts. ”

“Tabloids are all about fantasy, Peter. No one wants to read about a toothless guy who hasn’t showered in a month. Not when there’s Gwyneth Paltrow’s seaweed cleanse or JLo’s strength routine or Zendaya’s Oscars outfit.”

“Don’t forget Bennett’s weightlifting manifesto,” Peter added. “I’m sure that’s a fascinating read. Lots of tips on how to boil chicken. Where to buy cargo shorts. And, oh, how to craft an entire personality around stanning Bear Grylls.”

“Tell me how you really feel.”

“He’s your boyfriend.”

Edie looked away.

Was Bennett Charles her boyfriend?

The cabin lights dimmed. After a moment, Peter said he’d better head back to his seat, that she should sleep, long flight.

But then the flight attendant appeared and offered them a nightcap, and next thing you know, Peter was sipping bourbon with a blanket smoothed over his legs, his shoes were off, and the toe of one Converse was sticking into the aisle the tiniest bit.

Edie was cozy, too, with her hair piled on the top of her head and an eye mask strapped across her forehead.

She had her UW-Madison hoodie on. Her armrests were up, and her legs were tucked onto the seat next to her as she leaned toward him.

They’d been asking each other the most ridiculous questions—favorite Backstreet Boy (Brian), best iteration of a potato (a tie between french fries and mashed)—and their shared hot takes were really making her laugh.

“Okay, I’ve got a good one,” Edie said, pointing her bourbon at him. “What’s the best Tom Hanks movie?”

“Oh, that is a good one.”

“Lotta choices.”

“Lotta choices,” he agreed. “And a lotta good choices, which you can’t say about every actor.

Canonical choices. Philadelphia. A League of Their Own.

Cast Away. Sleepless in Seattle. Forrest Gump.

You know there’s a coalition of people who hate Forrest Gump ?

It’s not a cool film to like these days. ”

“Are you going with Gump ?”

“Calm down, Pepper, I haven’t made my selection yet.” Peter aped a series of thinking poses—stroking a nonexistent beard, taking his glasses off and holding them to the light, rubbing them on his sweater, putting them back on. “You want just one movie or top five?”

“Just one.”

“You’re tough, Pepper, you’re tough. This is the legendary Tom Hanks we’re talking about.” Finally, Peter clapped his hands together. “Okay! I’ve scoured my internal IMDB, and I feel confident in my answer. Ready?”

“I’ve been ready,” she said, casually polishing off her bourbon.

“Big.”

Edie froze. “Are you serious?”

“Houston, do we have a problem?” he asked. “That was an Apollo 13 reference, by the way. You’re welcome.”

“No problem,” she said. She just really couldn’t believe he’d said Big .

When Edie asked this question as her icebreaker on dating apps, she was always looking for a guy who said Big .

Or The Money Pit . Or Toy Story . You’ve Got Mail.

Or even The Post , because a journalist with principles was a very sexy thing.

But all the time it was just Saving Private Ryan , Saving Private Ryan .

To Edie, Saving Private Ryan indicated this macho sense that emotion could only be expressed if a man was pushed to his absolute limit.

But Edie’s worldview was not about staring straight at the worst of humanity—war and death, brotherhood and love only in the face of war and death.

Essentially what Edie wanted was Tom Hanks himself—or at least what he embodied to her—reaching out and touching all the possibilities of human experience from a place of good humor and an idealistic certainty that everything would work out in the end.

“It’s just that Big is the perfect answer.” She shrugged, nonchalant.

“Pew, pew, pew!” Peter said, shooting dorky lasers in the air with his fingers.

“I knew it. It’s that piano scene. And the trampoline he’s got in the middle of that Tribeca loft.

And how complicated adults make things when kids just get it .

And it’s sweet, but not too sweet. Just the right amount of sweet. ”

“Peter, that’s exactly right,” Edie said, astounded by this meeting of minds. “You know, you can tell a lot about a person from their favorite Tom Hanks film.”

“Oh yeah? What can you tell about me?”

She smiled. “That you’re sweet, but not too sweet. Just the right amount of sweet.”

He threw an airline pillow at her.

“ Big makes sense for you, though. It’s a love story, but a platonic one.

” She put the pillow behind her head and stared into the darkened cabin.

“About a boy who gets in over his head, but he’s got the love of his best friend, he’s got the love of his mother waiting for him back home, so when it counts, he can see what he’s made of.

” She leveled her gaze back to Peter. “None of that romantic love stuff you don’t believe in. ”

“First of all, wrong. There’s a very creepy love story between Tom Hanks as twelve-year-old Josh and Elizabeth Perkins as thirtysomething toy exec Susan. Second, when did I say that about love?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe that time you gave me a speech about dead people on Tinder.”

He scoffed. Then winced.

He took his glasses off and rubbed his face with both hands.

“Are you getting me?” He peeked at her through his fingers. “Don’t get me.”

“Too late.” She cocked her head at him. “What’s the deal with you, anyway? You were married?”

“I was married,” Peter confirmed, dropping his hands. He put his glasses back on and took the little red straw out of his bourbon, twisting it around his finger until the skin went white. “For six years. Julie. It didn’t end well. Well, I guess it did for her. She’s with someone else now.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. Well.” He drank the rest of his bourbon.

“You can have feelings, you know. I won’t tell.”

“Promise?” he said with a grin. He looked down at his tray table and sighed.

“I think I’m just realizing how much I shut down after my divorce—how much I threw myself into work so I wouldn’t have to think about it.

And I was angry, you know? Just the maddest producer of love stories in the world.

” He looked out the window, and then back at her.

His eyes were sad, and Edie felt very aware of his physical presence.

If she reached her hand across the aisle, she could touch him.

“I don’t feel great about that,” he continued.

“I’ve been thinking about my past, about love.

Maybe it’s time for me to change.” He noticed how she was folded up into herself, listening to him intently, with her arms pulled into her sweatshirt and her hood up. “You cold?”

“A little.”

“Take my blanket.”

“Oh, I have one in the overhead bin. I just have to get up and get it.”

“This one’s already unwrapped.” He stood and fluttered his blanket over her, wrapping her up in his nice Peter-y smell. He sat back down. “But what about you? Weren’t you with someone before this?”

“Brian,” she said.

Edie sighed. The one thing she had been letting herself think about—finally—was Brian.

About how there’d been red flags, starting with the fact that he’d only been separated from his wife for two months when they’d met.

And how separated was he? He’d been living in the basement.

Edie wasn’t an idiot; she knew from the beginning that everything with Brian was high-risk.

But she’d just wanted it so badly. And so she’d steamrolled ahead until she got her heart broken.

And then Charlie Bennett had been on TV.

“I think maybe I’m the opposite of you,” Edie said. “When Brian and I broke up, I threw myself back out there immediately. All the apps. All the dates. And then the first chance I got, I flung myself all the way to Los Angeles.”

Edie shut her eyes and pulled the blanket closer.

The breakup with Brian had always been about more than just Brian.

But it was a hard thing to admit, because wanting Brian, wanting Charlie, wanting love…

if she really thought about it, she could find her desire for a partner deeply embarrassing.

Because her desire for love coupled with the persistent absence of love always brought Edie back to the painful conclusion that it must be her—that there must be something wrong with her .

“I’ve always just wanted this very simple thing, you know?” The intimacy of the darkened cabin made it easy for her to tell him the truth of it. “Love. And I just don’t understand why I can’t have it.”

“Maybe because it’s not simple at all,” he said. His eyes were green with little flecks of gold. “Maybe love isn’t this thing we stumble into one day. Maybe you have to wait for it. And maybe that’s what makes it special.”