Good at Being Alive(72)

Easier said than done.

We are loaded into the air-conditioned van. I wanted to be alone with Theo, yes, but only the version of him who smiles as I steal his drink, who says my name as if it’s holy when I pull him into my mouth.

Not the one who says, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.

Not the one who can barely stand to look at me.

I let my eyes fall closed, wishing hard, like a child, for my sister.

I picture her in the seat beside me. I picture leaning over to tell her in gory detail about last night, about the fight that just took place, about how sad I am that he doesn’t want me the way I want him. I guess I’d owe her an apology, too, but I feel pretty sufficiently punished for what I’ve done at the moment.

I hold a hand over my throat. I can’t cry here. We still have hours left and my makeup will be ruined.

“Are you okay?” Theo asks, and I nod, swallowing hard as I realize that what I want more than Bronwyn is him. That all I really want is to lean my head on his shoulder and have him gently ridicule my sadness away.

I look out the opposite window and brush at my eyes.

I don’t have Bronwyn, I don’t have Theo, and it’s been many months since I’ve felt quite this alone.

A few minutes later, we arrive at the Seine and are escorted onto a private boat. Theo hasn’t said a word to me since we were in the van. He’s off talking to LJ about a topic I know he’s got no interest in, simply to avoid me.

He doesn’t return to my side until we are out on the water and he’s forced to play the doting husband. They bring us cheese and champagne, play old French ballads over a speaker.

It’s absolutely miserable.

We’re told to talk but once again, I come up empty. There’s nothing I want to say to him beyond Why are you done with me so soon?

“This is boring,” I say instead, and Theo glares at me.

“Again, Rebecca? We’re being filmed.”

Misery has made me argumentative. Well, more argumentative. “You know I’m right. This is an experience any family could put together on their own. There’s nothing about Paris that’s difficult. They’ve got Uber, it’s easily navigable, everyone speaks English. Vietnam or the Arctic Circle…that’s difficult. That’s worth paying someone to do the planning for you.”

“I’m not saying you’re wrong,” he mutters under his breath. “But as the entire reason we are here is to sell the company to viewers, perhaps there are better times to criticize us than when we’re on film?”

Was it intentional, the way he made a point of reminding me the show is why we’re here?

Our conversation remains so strained that eventually Lars decides to focus on gathering B-roll instead until the godforsaken ride is over and we can finally climb off the boat.

LJ is still filming us, but I’ve had it with this entire trip. I’m unclipping my battery pack, though no one’s said I can, just as Caden’s arm lands around my shoulders again. He’s just trying to get under Theo’s skin, probably as payback for what happened outside the catacombs, but given the mood Theo is in, it could very well work. The real question is why it would work. Theo has made it pretty fucking clear he isn’t interested in me going forward, so why does he care so much if someone else is?

“You’re about to be a single woman in Paris,” Caden says. “What’s that expression? ‘When the cat’s away, the mice will play’?”

Theo steps forward and wraps his hand around Caden’s neck, pushing him backward into the grassy riverbank. “Touch her again, motherfucker, and I’ll make sure you regret it.”

I expect Caden to do what he’s done in the past—to slink away, to turn it into a joke. Instead, he leans in, whispering something only Theo can hear and…suddenly Theo is lunging forward, grabbing Caden by the shirt, landing a punch straight to his jaw.

Caden falls backward, the picnickers behind him barely managing to scatter out of his way before he hits the grass, and Theo is on top of him while Lars and a guy from the boat rush to pull him off.

“Theo, stop!” I cry, but he doesn’t seem to hear me. He’s got one hand grabbing Caden’s collar, the other fisted and swinging toward his face.

I jump in front of the camera. “Stop filming!”

LJ shakes his head, moving around me to get the shot.

It takes me a long second to understand why: Lars and Paula anticipated this fight, perhaps even hoped it would happen. Of course they fucking did. They saw how Theo reacted earlier and were praying they’d strike gold twice. What could make better TV than the jealous husband attacking a member of the crew?

Except Theo’s the head of our company, the company we’re hoping to save, and positioning him as a short-tempered, jealous husband is not the look we want. Caden’s now bleeding and screaming that he’s going to sue, and it’s all on film.

The guys pull Theo off him, but Theo’s expression remains mutinous, his chest heaving as if he’s a prizefighter preparing to go back into the ring. I cross to where Lars and the guy from the boat are still holding on to him. Theo’s nostrils flare as he glances at me and looks away.

I can’t tell if he’s disgusted with me or himself.

“You can’t use that footage,” I tell Lars. “It’s in the contract that you can’t use anything that casts the company in a negative light.”