Page 43 of Fan Favorite

P eter Kennedy was in love.

Or falling in love?

He had no idea, but either way, he wasn’t happy about it.

For years, Peter had been certain that falling in love was purely a narrative device The Key used to keep multiple contestants on the hook and the show moving forward.

But now, as he was being consumed by all these feelings , he’d developed a begrudging appreciation for the nuance.

Surely, he couldn’t be in love with Edie Pepper.

They’d only met six weeks ago! She was a contestant!

But when he tried to pick it apart, pinpoint the origin of all these bizarre mushy feelings, he was irritated to find that just like the torment of his acid reflux, somehow they seemed to have always just been there , lighting him on fire from the inside out.

(The irony of his heartburn evolving from medical issue to metaphor—well, it was almost too twee to bear.)

Agonizing over the stages of love quickly led to agonizing over his failed marriage.

Peter had been certain that his divorce was this terrible thing that happened to him without his consent.

But now he was forced to wonder how he could’ve picked someone so clearly wrong for him.

Julie did not like him. In fact, upon reflection, Julie’s desire to both shame him and mold him seemed to be the spark that brought them together.

At the beginning, he supposed, there was something exciting about it.

And surely he’d “loved” her then, but over time, as her disdain for him became impossible to ignore, he tried not to think about his feelings for Julie at all.

They were married. What was there to think about?

So he’d completely detached, thrown himself into work, until she’d put them out of their misery.

And he’d taken this epic failure as evidence that love, marriage, a family—none of it was meant for him.

He wasn’t husband material. He wasn’t even boyfriend material.

But, what if, with the right person, he was ?

A terrifying thought.

Peter skulled his beer and let the glass hit the bar with a thud.

“Jesus Christ, Peter,” Jessa complained, wiping spatter from her iPad.

It was tradition that before the lock-ins, there was always a hotel bar takeover.

For one night, the moratorium on fraternization was suspended, and the hometown contestant, all the traveling producers, directors, PAs, cameramen, lighting, and sound guys gathered to drink and sing karaoke.

The lead, of course, was always sequestered at another hotel.

Peter had hoped to fly ahead to Kansas City for Max’s date and skip Edie’s entirely, but somehow he’d still ended up in Chicago, in the same room as the woman he was desperately trying to avoid.

“Knock it off with the grumpy old man bit. We’ve got work to do. ”

Yeah, they did. Never before had The Key begun airing while The Key was still filming.

Wyatt Cash and the delayed production schedule had forced the parallel paths, and when Peter agreed to it months ago, he’d been so focused on saving the show he hadn’t thought through the implications.

But now the pressure of shitty ratings and bad press on top of dragging this bloated production over the finish line—it was like a powder keg waiting to explode.

Normally Peter would have time to coach the lead on the right moment to declare his love—the full I love you —and lay the foundation for the last-second cold feet drama and fantasy engagement.

But instead, in addition to the twelve-hour shoot days, Peter was doing press, dropping spoilers on surprise podcast visits, and signing onto Zoom calls with the marketing team back in LA to yell about fixing whatever the fuck the problem was with the marketing mix because whenever Peter opened his phone to the tabloid sites, Bennett’s goddamned love story was two or three scrolls down the page.

“I’m going to bed,” he announced.

Jessa looked up from her notes. “You can’t. It’s not good for morale.”

Peter made a sound in his throat, an annoyed uch , before frowning and ordering another beer.

He glanced at Edie. She was laughing at something Lou was saying.

Her cheeks were flushed a pretty pink, which irritated Peter even more.

He’d come to notice that he loved when she had her hair up like this, all messy and cute.

It felt more like her than the glam Barbie-tron Jessa had created.

He’d even come to love her stupid red sweatshirt with the strutting badger that she wore on planes.

And her too-loud laugh that he used to find embarrassing broke him open now, especially when he was the cause of it.

And her penchant for bad music and chemically laden foods.

And how smart and funny and vulnerable she was.

And how she showed him the world in a new way.

And how he felt when he was with her. Fuck fuck fuck fuck , FUCK , Peter Kennedy was crazy about, falling in love with, maybe in love with Edie Pepper.

“Seriously, I’m going to bed,” he told Jessa as soon as he saw Edie heading their way.

“Not till we go over the schedule for tomorrow. We’ve got a tight schedule, and there’s the whole thing with the band.”

Peter stood just as Edie arrived.

“You guys work too hard,” she said with that big smile. “Put the iPads away, I heard there’s going to be karaoke.”

Peter couldn’t help himself. “If we didn’t work so hard, how would all your dreams come true? How else would you end up engaged to the King Douche himself?”

Edie cocked her head. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.” Peter gathered his phone and room key from the bar. “I’m calling it a night.”

“Why does he say shit like that?” Edie asked Jessa. Then, to his departing back, “Why do you say shit like that?”

He turned. “Like what?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she said. “Just the shit you say that’s clearly meant to make me feel stupid.”

“I’m not making you feel stupid.” Peter caught his reflection in the mirror over the bar. He looked like a smug asshole. He shouldn’t be baiting her. Why was he baiting her? “Maybe liking Bennett Charles is making you feel stupid.”

“Peter, what the hell?” Jessa interjected.

“Who said I liked him?”

An image of Edie straddling Bennett in Scotland— right in front of the cameras! —crossed Peter’s mind and he was righteous all over again. “You’re still here, aren’t you?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, did you want me to go?” Edie challenged. “Is that why you’ve been ignoring me? Because you haven’t spoken to me in days, Peter. But here you are now, the night before the lock-in, ready to share your opinion. So, let’s hear it. Let it all out. ’Cause I really don’t see your point.”

There was a reasonable part of him that knew he should shut up, that knew he was not only putting the show at risk, but also exposing himself in a way that was better left concealed.

But there was an even bigger part of him that was hurt by her blatant disregard for their…

whatever it was. Connection. And who wanted her to know it.

“Just saying, you looked pretty happy when he had his tongue down your throat in Edinburgh.”

“Peter!” Jessa exclaimed.

Edie stepped toward him until they were face-to-face, two prizefighters ready to knock each other out.

“Are you serious right now?” she hissed.

“You’re gonna come at me with some slut-shaming nonsense over a show that you produce?

Who made your repressed, cranky ass the moral compass of The Key ?

At least I’m out here. At least I’m trying .

Which is more than I can say for you, someone who thinks love is some unattainable mirage because he’s too scared to let someone actually know him.

Well, I know you, Peter. And the truth is, you have some good moments, but overall, you suck. ”

And with that, Edie turned on her heel and walked out of the bar.

“Dude.” Jessa gaped at him. “What the fuck ?”

Peter threw his arms in the air.

Exhaled an angry sigh.

Rubbed his face with both hands and scratched his scalp until his hair was standing on end.

Of course Edie was right. Of course he was a hypocritical asshole who’d set her up to fall in love with Bennett and then got mad when she did.

And of course he was scared to let someone know him, because, just like she said, he had some good moments, but overall, he was a mess.

The kind of person who equated being in love with feeling like shit.

And if he loved her, which he thought maybe he did, why was he acting like this?

Peter took off through the lounge. Right as he turned the corner to the elevators, he saw her getting on.

“I’m sorry—” he said, jumping in after her.

“Save it,” Edie said, pounding the button for the eleventh floor.

“We have, what? A week and a half left? Then we never have to see each other again.” She gestured at the closing doors.

“You can go. You’re super good at that.” He didn’t move.

“Oh, good, you’re gonna stay. Why would I care? I don’t care.”

“Well, I care!” Peter yelled before he could stop himself. Seeing her cold like this made him feel wild and desperate. “If you haven’t noticed, I care so fucking much it’s literally ruining my life!”

“Oh my god,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Poor Peter.”

He stepped in front of her so she’d have to look at him. “Edie,” he pleaded. “I’m sorry.”

“Great, apology accepted.” She stepped to the other side of the elevator. “So let’s just drop it, okay?”