Page 52 of Fan Favorite

T he good news is, you’re an icon for single women everywhere,” Lauren said over FaceTime. Because Lauren was an adult, she was hard at work making a beautiful vegetarian paella.

Edie, however, was standing at her fridge with her nose deep in some old takeout. “This pad thai smells awful.” She’d been locked in her apartment for three and a half days. Ordering Grubhub again seemed impossible.

“Why didn’t you have groceries delivered like I told you?”

Edie rolled her eyes. Who could cook at a time like this?

She tossed the pad thai in the trash and slid to the floor.

Besides, she’d deleted all the apps except Grubhub and FaceTime off this old iPad she’d dug out of a moving box.

The Key still had her phone and her computer, so as soon as she plugged the iPad in, the notifications exploded.

Texts, emails, Hinge, Bumble, Tinder, The League, WhatsApp, Facebook Messenger, Twitter, Instagram.

Edie stared in horror as even Brian Heart Emoji flashed a series of brief communiques—

I’m sorry.

I made a mistake.

I love you.

EDIE. CALL ME.

Lauren threw chopped peppers into a sauté pan. “Why don’t you bring me dinner?” Edie begged. “You know I’m too depressed to eat a vegetable alone.”

“I’m not having my picture on TMZ again.”

“You got a lot of ladies in your DMs from that.”

Lauren gave Edie a look. “The last thing I need is some random Instagram girlfriend.”

“I don’t know, what if she’s nice?”

“Edie, is this you believing in love again?”

“Definitely not. I hate love.” Edie stood up and walked to the window. “The paparazzi never leave to go pee. Isn’t that amazing?”

“Sure,” Lauren agreed. “You know, you’re gonna have a lot of career opportunities from this. You could be an influencer. Or start a podcast. After the volleyball date aired, your followers went through the roof. Over 900K on Insta now—way more than Charlie.”

“It’s so weird,” Edie said, peeking out the curtain. “What do you think it’s about?”

“I think it’s about you being a cool fucking person.”

“Be serious, please.”

“I am being serious.” Lauren slid her paella in the oven and plopped down in front of the TV. She picked up the remote. “Like I said, according to most of the internet, you’re an icon for single women everywhere. You’re basically Charlize Theron. Or Selena Gomez.”

Edie didn’t feel like Charlize Theron. She didn’t feel beautiful or powerful or strong. She felt bloated and hungover. And like her hair smelled. And like her tear ducts were on fire from three days of sobbing after having her heart ripped out and stomped on by a stupid Prada loafer.

“Do you think he had feelings for me? Like, for real?” Edie asked for the twelve thousandth time.

She walked past the immense floral arrangement Carole Steele had sent.

The card had been blank, except for Carole’s name and phone number.

Edie arrived at the bedroom and crawled into bed, pulling the comforter up to her chin.

“Or that he used me, strung me along to make sure I stayed for the finale?”

“I think he was probably just doing his job and things got complicated.”

“Yeah,” Edie said, the tears starting up again.

“But, Edie, it doesn’t matter what I think. It matters what you think. What you believe to be true about Peter.”

Edie thought about the last time she’d seen Peter. She’d been furious, storming down the street with Lauren running to keep up. She made it to the front door. He’d stopped her.

“Edie!”

She turned on him. “You’re making him pick me? Are you fucking serious, Peter? Was I always just some joke to you?”

He shook his head furiously. “It’s not like that,” he pleaded. “Let me explain.”

Except she didn’t fucking care anymore. “Don’t bother. This entire thing was a mistake, and I really don’t fucking care anymore!”

He pushed Ted and a boom mic back with his forearm and leaned toward her to whisper. “Edie, please listen to me. I haven’t been trying to hurt you. This is all just—”

“Words, Peter,” she’d spat. “Nothing you say means anything. Anything at all.”

Since then, she’d gone back and forth about what it meant.

“Oh my god!” Lauren shrieked suddenly.

“What?” Edie said, a pillow over her head, no energy left to care. Maybe she’d take a hot bath, put on some Adele, and cry.

“Peter! He’s on TV!”

Edie shot up, dislodging Nacho Bell Grande, who yowled and fled for the kitchen. “Where?” she screeched, running for the living room. “What channel?”

“E!” Lauren yelled from the bed, where Edie had abandoned the iPad.

Edie snatched up the remote and swore as it slid around the apps before finally landing on Hulu, which, of course, was its own mess trying to navigate to live TV.

For a split second Edie felt vindicated for all the years she’d continued paying for live TV.

See! It was necessary. Finally she found E!

, pressed Select, and the screen went dark—Come on!

Come on! —before flickering to life, and there was Peter Kennedy, back in her living room, with Ryan Seacrest.

The first thing she thought: He was so handsome.

She’d almost forgotten just how handsome he was, because Peter’s handsome was a sort of low-key, normcore handsome.

Or maybe it was just that even though she hated him to death, she felt so much love just seeing his face again, hearing his voice, watching the way he held the back of his neck with one hand and cast his eyes to the ground as he listened, and then the slow smile and cute way he nodded before responding.

It all filled her with such resounding emotion, she had to grope her way to the floor.

“We’re thrilled, Ryan, that you’re enjoying this season as much as we are,” Peter said, looking and sounding just like his competent, Peter-y self. “Every season we want to give America the most dramatic season ever, but this, this is really it.”

“The internet can’t stop talking about Edie Pepper,” Seacrest said. “What is it about her that women relate to so much?”

“Well, I’d never presume to speak for the women of America.

” Peter and Seacrest exchanged a chuckle.

“But I couldn’t be less surprised by how our audience is responding to Edie.

” Edie scooched closer to the screen. Either she was imagining things or Peter changed when he said her name.

He was suddenly blinking a lot. Clenching his jaw. Like he might… cry ?

“Edie’s the most extraordinary person I’ve ever met.”

“And you know JLo!” Seacrest joked.

Peter laughed. “Well, I met JLo one time,” he demurred.

“Edie has everything a man could want in a partner. She’s kind, she’s smart, she’s funny, and she’s beautiful, and I’ve never met anyone more willing to love with their whole heart.

” He took a breath. “ The Key ’s not an easy process.

Lots of hearts get broken along the way.

But Edie’s taught us what it means to be present and really show up for your life.

And how to treat the people you love.” He paused and looked directly at the camera.

“And, personally, I hope she’s in my life forever. ”

Seacrest squinted. “Your life? Or Bennett’s?”

“Oh. Bennett’s.” Peter cleared his throat. “And like, all of our lives generally. America’s lives.”

“What can you tell us about the finale?” Seacrest asked. “Will Edie be back?”

“C’mon, Ryan, you know I’m not going to tell you anything about the finale. Other than The Key airs Tuesdays at eight p.m. on RX.”

Peter and Ryan shook hands, and as Ryan introduced the next segment, Edie lay down on the floor and stared at the ceiling.

Holy shit. Had Peter Kennedy, Hollywood hotshot and showrunner of The Key , just appeared on national television and declared his love for her?

Or at least walked right up to the edge of it?

Sure, he’d left himself some plausible deniability, but he’d literally just said to the entire world that he wanted her, Edie Pepper, in his life forever .

Holy fucking shit. She should forgive him.

They could work it out. Why couldn’t they work it out?

Because he was neurotic. Impossible. Rigid.

Because he produced her, manipulated her, abandoned her.

Except, didn’t he come back? Didn’t he try?

Peter wasn’t perfect. But neither was she. And maybe it took two decades of bad dates, Bennett Charles, and even the return of Brian Heart Emoji for Edie to realize that love was never going to be as pretty or simple as some movie montage. But it was sincere, complex, and hers .

And she wanted it, warts and all.

Edie sat up and turned off the TV. Someone was screaming.

Lauren!

Edie ran back to the bedroom and scooped up the iPad.

Lauren was jumping around her kitchen. “Holy shit!” she squealed.

“Are we going to forgive him? I mean, clearly he needs therapy, but like, I see what you mean, there’s something vulnerable and authentic at the center. I thought he was gonna cry!”

“I know!” Edie started to cry herself. “So, we think he loves me? And I should forgive him? What do I do—do I tell him I love him? Because I think I do, Lolo. Like, it’s been a mess.

And it looks nothing like I expected. But seeing him right now, it’s like my heart might explode.

He’s difficult. He checks out when he’s scared.

But I’ve never in my life had a man believe in me like he does.

It’s like he looks at me, and he sees something special.

He calms me. And maybe I open him up. And, I mean, I know he didn’t want me to get engaged to Charlie.

But everything just got so out of control…

Fuck, I don’t even have his phone number!

And, let’s be honest, he’s so out of my league.

But I’ve never been so sure. It’s a mess, but it’s real.

But I don’t even have his phone number! How is that possible?

I’ve had his dick in my mouth, but I don’t have his phone number! ”

“Let’s be honest, it wouldn’t be the first time.”

Edie and Lauren both doubled over, they were laughing so hard. Truly, best friends were the greatest love of all.

“Lauren! Get serious. What am I gonna do?”

“The flowers! Call the number on the flowers!”

Edie gasped.

“Lauren Marie Wasserman, are you suggesting that I go back on The Key and pretend I want to get engaged to Charlie Bennett, but really hunt down Peter and proclaim my love for him in my very own over-the-top romantic gesture? When just twenty minutes ago you called reality TV ‘a scourge on modern feminism’ and said that if I had any sense, I would stop watching it completely and get a better hobby, like composting or competitive Scrabble?”

“Bitch, shut up. Even I believe in true love sometimes .”

Ten hours later, Edie Pepper was on a plane to Switzerland.