When the sun goes down, we set up a campfire on the sand and encourage the cast to roast some marshmallows.
I go to check the time and realise I left my phone inside the cabin earlier. I run back up the embankment, only to come face to face with Patrick.
“Oh, hey!” It feels strange seeing him here on the other side of the world. The fact that it’s also dark and we’re standing outside a log cabin beside the beach only adds to the surrealism.
“Hi,” he says warmly. “How’s it all going?”
“Good. I was just getting my phone.”
“Where is everyone?”
“Down on the beach. Filming the mandatory campfire scene.”
“Ah. Are you actively working on it, or just watching?”
“Mostly watching right now.”
“Good. Then you can come and fill me in on the show’s progress. Have a drink with me?”
“Oh. Okay. Maybe I should just tell Ariel where I am…”
“Don’t worry about Ariel. If she gives you a hard time, I’ll talk to her later.”
“All right.”
I follow him to one of the other cabins at the edge of the resort.
“You just arrived?” I ask.
“Yep.”
“You look very well rested.”
He laughs. “I almost don’t want to tell you this, but I flew first class and then got a helicopter from Vancouver.”
“Ah, the life of a jet-setting studio mogul. It’s okay. I don’t begrudge you. I know you spend half your life travelling, so you need to be comfortable.”
“I’m glad you understand. It’s important I’m awake when I’m supposed to be.”
“You don’t have to justify yourself to me.”
“I know. But I want to.”
This somehow feels way more personal than any other interaction we’ve had. He opens the door to his cabin and ushers me in. I hesitate for a second and then cross the threshold. I take a seat on a bench that runs along the window looking out to the beach. Not that I can see much at this time of night. The only thing visible from here is the campfire in the distance.
“I love Canadian beer. Have you tried it yet?” he asks.
“No. But I’d like to.”
He pulls two bottles out of a nearby bag and places them on the dining table while he hunts for a couple of glasses.
As he’s pouring our drinks, he watches me. There’s something about those eyes that deeply unsettles me.
He hands me one of the glasses and I take a sip. “Not bad.”
“How are you handling everything?” he asks.
“Pretty well. Ariel seems to have finally accepted me.”
“Good. I’ve looked at some of the preliminary footage and I can see what you guys are doing. I like it.”
“Really?”
“Yes. It feels like a return to the old days of reality TV. It’s somehow gentler, but more captivating.”
“And we’ve still got drama because there are multiple romantic connections forming between some of the couples,” I point out.
“I know. It’s great.”
“So, what made you come all the way out here?” I ask, trying to sound casual.
His gaze doesn’t waver as he answers me. “I could make up some elaborate reason about wanting to check that the show is sticking to its budget, or wanting to have a more direct influence over my shows, but the truth is, Lauren…it’s you.”
My stomach starts fizzing. “Me? But why?”
“Because I can’t get you out of my damn head. I’ve been distracted by you ever since you set those gorgeous eyes on me at the phone store.”
The fizzing turns into an active volcano. This can’t be real life, can it?
He smiles. “I’m not freaking you out, am I?”
“Um, just a little,” I admit. It all feels so sudden. I can’t process this information and analyse it in a way that will help me make intelligent, rational choices.
“Will this help?” He puts his glass down and takes mine out of my hand, placing it on the table next to him, and then cups my face with his hands. I don’t close my eyes, because I remember the time I thought he was going to kiss me, and he was actually just inspecting my face.
But then his lips land on mine and my eyelids involuntarily close. Oh God. He is an amazing kisser. And he’s wearing that same sandalwood aftershave I remember from our dinner at The Apollo.
A tiny part of my brain is screaming out to stop and think about what I’m doing, but my body won’t let me.
I’ve been single for three years, and I’ve totally forgotten the last time I had this kind of contact with anyone. I’m only human. And if a hot studio boss decides he wants to make out with me right now, who am I to say no?
I wrap my arms around his shoulders and pull him closer, melting into the kiss. It feels sooo good. And when his lips make their way to my neck, I almost dissolve completely.
Of course, that’s the moment Finn flashes through my brain. Somehow I feel like I’m betraying him, which doesn’t make any sense at all. He has a girlfriend and has never given me any indication he sees me as more than a roommate.
But my brain won’t let up. I pull away and sigh. “I’m not sure if this is such a good idea.”
He chuckles. “You’re just deciding this now?”
“Yes. I’m sorry. You are quite possibly the best kisser ever, but this can only end in disaster.”
“Because I’m your boss?”
“Well, yeah. There’s that.”
“Anything else?”
“Isn’t that enough?” I’m not going to tell him I’m hung up on someone else. “Also, you’re older than me.”
He laughs. “Is that a problem for you?”
“I think combined with the fact you’re my boss, it doesn’t help.”
He sits back and picks up his beer again. “It’s okay. I understand. I can’t say I’m happy about it, but I get it.”
I stand up. “I should probably leave.”
“Why don’t you stay and finish your drink? I do want to hear what’s been happening with the show.”
“I think maybe you should talk to Ariel instead.”
“All right.”
I look at him. It’s so tempting to jump back into his arms, but I have to be strong. Apart from my complicated feelings towards Finn, I need to prove myself professionally, at least this season. It might already be too late, but I want to feel like I got a good result on merit, rather than romantic favours.
“How long are you staying?” I ask.
“A few days. But don’t worry, I won’t follow you around like a little lost puppy or anything.”
I laugh. “Actually, that would be something to see. I’d love to hear your explanation to Ariel and the crew about why you’re crawling around after me everywhere.”
“Ha. No, I won’t embarrass either of us in that way. But can I at least call you? Maybe we could grab a coffee or something?”
“I don’t know. Texts might be okay,” I tease.
“You drive a hard bargain, Ms. Hunter. All right, I will text you, but I can’t promise I won’t call or try to convince you again to meet with me.”
“I’ll talk to you later,” I say, giving him a regretful wave.
I head back down to the campfire, where Ariel corners me. “Where the hell have you been?”
“Oh, I was getting my phone. But also, Patrick just arrived. He wants you to brief him when you get the chance.”
She nods. “Okay. I need you to supervise Maria and Johnny.”
“Done.” Interestingly, that pair have the strongest romantic connection of all the couples. I suspect they’ve been stealing drinks for each other throughout filming. I’ve tried to catch them out, but they’re too sneaky about it.
I settle in and try to wipe Patrick from my brain.
But I’m not sure I will ever forget that kiss.
TWENTY-SEVEN
I find it hard to concentrate for the rest
of the week. I actually don’t see Patrick again, but he does text me a couple of times. I’m almost disappointed that he doesn’t try harder. And when I overhear Ariel telling the other producers that she’s going to meet him somewhere for lunch on the third day, I feel a brief pang of jealousy. I wonder if that was Patrick’s objective. But I should be happy that he obeyed my request.
Filming goes well, and the first eviction, which sees Chelsea and Johnny go home, is sufficiently dramatic. Maria is devastated to lose her partner, and threatens to go home too. But after being consoled by Tracey and Olivia, she decides to stay.
On the long drive back to the ferry on Sunday, I upload some of the photos I took of Tofino to Instagram. There are some particularly beautiful ones of the rocky coastline and iconic fir trees growing right up on the cliffs. I send a private message to Finn.
My first batch of photos is up :)
I don’t know what time it is back in Australia, but he replies straight away.
They look great! Are you having fun?
I am. More than when we were filming in Sydney, for sure.
I’m glad to hear it. Oh, I love that rocky beach shot. It would be a great place for a proposal, don’t you think?
I re-read the message a few times just to make sure I understood it clearly. He’s asking me for advice on proposal locations?
Uh – yeah, I guess. It was pretty cold, though. I think even in summer it only gets slightly warmer than our winter.
Cool. Good to know. So one week down, five to go!
That’s right. I hope you’re coping without me. :p
It’s definitely not as fun being here on my own.
Okay. I need to end this now, otherwise I’ll say something dumb.
I’ll post more photos in a few days. I’m off to Uruguay!
So jealous! Stay in touch.
Will do.
I put my phone back in my bag, noting the heavy feeling in my stomach. So. Finn is thinking of proposing to Emma on their trip. I can’t say I’m totally surprised, but I’m definitely disappointed. And it confirms that I probably will have to move out after I get back. There’s no way I could handle sharing a house with a newly engaged couple, and especially if one half of that couple is Finn.
I feel tears well in my eyes, but I quickly swipe them away before anyone sees them. I need to focus on work from now on.
Men are too complicated.
***
Uruguay, and Punta del Este in particular, is heaven.
After the cold weather of Tofino, the temperature here feels positively balmy.
In addition to the bus and ferry back to Vancouver airport, we had to take three flights just to get here. I’m starting to think maybe filming the show back in Australia would have been preferable. I mean, I love being paid to fly around the world, but it’s not exactly practical. And we’re only two stops into six. I can’t imagine how exhausted we’re all going to be by the time we get to Ghana.
I’m not as tired as I should be, because my brain won’t behave and keeps alternating between thoughts of Finn and Patrick. I can’t stop wondering what might have happened with Patrick in Tofino if I had known Finn was going to propose to Emma. But I’m still proud of my restraint. I can hold my head high and not feel like I really am just Patrick’s flavour of the week.
Here in Uruguay, I’m sharing a room with the same three female producers from Tofino. All of them fall into bed at 6pm, but I can’t sleep. I figure maybe a glass of wine might help me unwind.
After dumping my suitcase in my room and having a quick shower, I head downstairs to the hotel bar.
None of the cast or crew are there, but Ariel is. She’s sitting on her own, sipping something fizzy-looking.
I hesitate for a moment and then join her.
“Can’t sleep either, huh?” I ask.
“Nope.”
“What are you drinking?”
She points to a sparkling wine on the drinks menu. I signal the bartender and ask him to give me the same.
“Do you think filming is going okay?” I ask.
“As much as I hate to admit it, it’s going well.”
“Oh, good. I haven’t had the chance to tell you that I am in awe of how well you handle everything.”
She barks out a laugh. “Thanks.”
“And I’m sorry for all the stuff I’ve done that might have made your life difficult.”
She sighs. “You haven’t been too bad. And some of your ideas are good. Especially stuff like less producer intervention, because I know we should be doing that, but it’s so much harder to create a good show without it. Don’t you dare tell anyone I said this, but I got lazy.”
I smile. “It happens. Especially after six years.”
“You’d make a good producer. Maybe even an executive one day.”
“I’m not sure I’m tough enough.”
“You are plenty tough enough.”
The bartender places my drink in front of me and I take a sip. Mmm.
“I’m glad you have such faith in me.”
“I know you’re not sleeping with Patrick.”
I almost choke on my wine. “Um, okay.”
“He told me.”
“Did he now?”
She smirks. “I think he was surprised himself. I know he’s into you.”
“I only found this out in Tofino. And I didn’t want to blur the lines between work and dating.”
“You’re smarter than me.”
“What? You’ve slept with him?”
She stares at me. “No, not Patrick! I mean, I’ve slept with a colleague before.”
“Oh.” I feel strangely relieved. “And it didn’t end well?”
“Does it ever?”
We sit quietly for a moment.
“Do you think you’ll be okay seeing him around this week?” she asks.
“What do you mean? He’s in Uruguay too?” My heart starts pounding. I really wasn’t expecting that.
“Yep. I’m not exactly sure why. It’s not like he’s actually doing anything. Maybe he just wanted a holiday.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
“Do you want me to tell him to go home? I can’t promise anything, but I can try.”
“No, it’s fine. I’ll fight my own battles. But thanks.”
Ariel swallows the last of her drink and stands up. “I guess I should try and get some sleep. We need to prepare for another round of ‘romantic’ dates tomorrow.”
“Cool. I think I’ll follow you in a minute.”
She nods and leaves.
What a strange evening. Ariel is actually being nice, and I find out Patrick has followed us to another country.
I get out my phone and text him.
I just heard you’re in Uruguay too.
He doesn’t reply immediately, so I finish my drink and start walking towards the elevator. But while I’m waiting for it to arrive, my phone buzzes.
What are you doing right now?
Eek!
I was about to go to bed.
It’s too early for bed.
Unlike some people, I have just spent several days in motion without being able to lie flat.
Touché. But before you turn in, can I talk to you?
Damn it. I should never have sent that first message.
What about?
Stuff. Can you meet me in the hotel lobby?
I look up at the ceiling and then type I’m there now.
Okay. See you in a minute.
I make a quick detour via the bathroom to touch up my lipstick and straighten my hair. After all, he’s still my boss and I need to look presentable. But knowing how he feels about me, I’m aware this impending liaison has the potential to enter dangerous territory.
When I go back out, Patrick is standing near the door, looking around. He smiles warmly when he sees me. “Thanks for meeting me.”
“Anything for the boss,” I say lightly.
He laughs. “Is it just me, or is this a little weird?
”
“It’s a little weird. Hang on, why do you think it’s a little weird?”
He studies me for a moment and then nods towards the outside. “Come and experience Punta Del Este with me.”
I’m pretty sure he’s not inviting me to an evening of work-related chat, but my defences are down. I’m sleep deprived and I know that Finn is about to be permanently off the market. And even though I know it will prove Ariel right all along if I accompany Patrick outside this hotel, I’m not sure I care anymore. And of course, there’s that damn kiss we shared the other week. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.
“Okay,” I say softly.
He puts his hand in the small of my back and ushers me out.
Outside, the air is starting to cool, but it’s still pleasant. We walk down the street towards a strip of lively restaurants and bars. Patrick grabs my hand and pulls me into the first one. I gulp, trying to downplay the feeling of his fingers wrapped in mine. We find a couple of barstools in the corner and Patrick signals the waiter. “Grappamiel por favor.”
He nods and leaves. I look at Patrick. “What did you just order?”
“Only some of the area’s finest liquor.”
“You certainly know your international alcohol.”
He laughs. “It’s kind of a thing of mine. Oh, are you hungry? I can order something to eat too.”
“I’m not super hungry. But if you want something, I’ll join you.”
He looks at the menu. “Are you a dessert kind of girl?”
“What do you think?”
“Oh, that’s right. I remember how you ate nearly the whole plate of those donuts at The Apollo,” he teases.
“I did not! But I easily could have.”
“How about we share a plate of the chaja?”
“And what is chaja?”
“The actual chaja is a type of bird, but I mean the famous Uruguayan cake that takes its name from the bird.”
“Interesting. Have you tried it before?”
“I have not. But the description sounds delicious.”
“All right. Let’s order it.”
When the waiter brings our drinks, Patrick orders the cake. I take a sip of the dark orange liquid and sigh. “This is good. Does it have honey in it?”
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