When I told Erica I was going to New York, I didn’t tell her what for. I don’t know why. Maybe I didn’t want to disappoint her and ruin her plans for next season, or maybe I was scared that I’d go all the way there and not get the job offer. Or maybe I was just still feeling a little bit bad about calling her life’s work trash. Either way, Erica seemed a little distant and unbothered, only asking if I needed some pocket money and when I would be home. I lied on both accounts. No, I didn’t need any pocket money. (Yes, I very much did.) And I would be home next week. (Despite only having a one-way ticket booked at the moment. Renée insisted we see how things go and assured me that a return flight could be booked at any point.)

Again, my phone chirps. “Okay,” I say to the kids, “you three stay in the shallow end while I check my phone.”

Mary, who has turned into a cannonball daredevil over the summer, despite her inability to tread water for longer than four seconds, lets out a loud hmmph.

After drying my hands off, I sit down on the edge of the chair and pull up my messages.

Erica:

Are you home?

Beck:

Back in LA. Coming by. Get pretty!

After shooting off a quick message to Erica, I flip back over to Beck and my lips curve into a soft smile. Beck might be one of the best things I got out of the whole experience. I’ve been trying to think of how to break the news to her that I’m not interested in my own season, and if she’s coming by today, I’ll be happy to get it over with before I leave town.

All dolled up over here, I respond, with an upside-down smiley face.

After another hour of pool time, I herd the triplets inside and send them to get changed while I whip up some goodbye grilled cheeses. I asked Erica to give Jana the day off so I could spend one perfect day with the kids, which was much needed after the reaction I got when I told them I was leaving again. (Gus cried. Mary called me a traitor. And Jack asked if I was leaving again because he’d wet his bed. In terms of guilting, they’re all three very gifted.)

I toss one sandwich in the pan while I turn around to prep the other three, and the doorbell rings.

“Great,” I say, looking down at my ensemble. Still in my damp swimsuit and a Dora the Explorer towel that doesn’t actually wrap around my whole body. “Coming!” I call. “At least it’s only Beck,” I mutter as I swing the front door open. “You want a grilled chee—”

“Good afternoon, Cindy,” says Chad Winkle in his signature tux with an entire camera crew at his back.

Beside me, a man dressed as a herald blows into a trumpet with a flag embroidered with the Before Midnight logo.

“I told you to look pretty,” Beck barks from behind him. “Let’s reset,” she calls. “Keep rolling in case we get anything. Hair, makeup, give her that no-makeup-just-out-of-the-pool look. Can we get her a real towel? Irina?”

“I don’t think towels constitute wardrobe,” I hear Irina’s voice say from somewhere.

“This is a real towel” is all I manage to say. “And I sent you an upside-down smiley face. Wait. What are you doing here? What are you all doing here?”

“What does an upside-down smiley face even mean?” asks Beck. “That’s just a smiley face, but upside down.”

“It’s like the eye roll of smiley faces,” I tell her as I cross my arms over my chest.

Beside her, Mallory sighs. “Do you only answer doors in a towel?”

“A lot of people answer the door while they’re wearing a towel,” I say defensively.

Bruce’s car pulls into the half-circle driveway, and Erica is stepping out before he can put the thing in park. “Did they tell you?” she asks, and then turns to Beck. “Did you tell her?” She looks back to me. “I thought you told her to look pretty.”

I throw my arms up and my towel falls down, revealing my mismatched bikini. Roses on top and stripes on the bottoms. “Why do I need to look pretty? What does that even mean?”

Beck turns to me. “If someone in television tells you to look pretty, it means you’re going to be on camera.”

“Just say I’m going to be on camera,” I say, the frustration raising my voice an octave.

“That ruins the surprise,” Beck says.

“Being on camera should never be a surprise!”

Chad checks his watch. “Uh, Beck, I’ve got a thing across town that I need to—”

“Just give it to her,” she blurts. “Forget hair and makeup,” she calls over her shoulder, and Mallory runs off to relay the message.

Chad stretches his mouth in that way very serious actors do and clears his throat before plastering a sparkling smile across his face. “Cindy,” he says in a debonair voice, “it is with great pleasure that, on behalf of Henry Mackenzie, I invite you to the final ball. Please join us at the château tomorrow morning, where we will be filming the live finale later that night with a live audience. You’ve made a lasting impression on our suitor, but will it be enough to win his heart?”

My jaw drops as he holds a scroll out for me.

When I don’t move, he reaches for my wrist at my side and awkwardly places the scroll in my hand.

“Does it smell like burnt grilled cheese?” the herald asks.

I blink over and over again, waiting for someone to tell me this is a joke.

Behind Beck, Erica nods. This isn’t a joke. This is very, very real.

As real as the red-eye to New York I’m booked on tonight.

Erica shuts the door behind the last of the crew members. “Well, that was exciting,” she says.

I don’t even know what to say. “I thought—”

She shrugs. “Beck says he was adamant about you being at the finale. Text Beck and tell her to have Mallory call my travel agent. She’ll deal with the airline ticket you booked.”

I open my mouth to say why that’s not possible, but she beats me to it.

“We can fly Sierra out here when filming wraps if you like. A girls’ weekend. Or maybe we could rent you two a place in Malibu for a few days….” She pouts a little and touches her fingers to her temples. “I’ve got a migraine. I’m going to lie down for a bit. One of the execs is hosting a get-together tonight in honor of the villa episode, and I’ve got Jana coming in to do bedtime with the kids so you can get packed up for the finale. Bruce will pick you up at eleven tomorrow morning.”