Previously…
– On her Alaskan cruise, Diane witnessed a man fall into the pool and had no choice but to jump in to rescue him. She was aided by a young doctor with whom she’d earlier had a run-in aboard the ship.
– Burdened by a sense of responsibility for his mother’s early labor and the subsequent death of her newborn, Caleb slipped out of the hospital.
– Feeling rejected by Jason and Elly, respectively, Natalie and Spencer decided to blow off some steam by finally consummating their marriage of convenience. When Elly came to see Spencer, she was shocked to realize what was going on.

After her impromptu rescue mission in the cruise ship’s pool, Diane Bishop trudges back to her cabin — her wet cocktail dress sticking to her body in a way that feels more and more uncomfortable the longer she is out of the pool — and takes a hot shower. The warm water against her skin is a wonderful relief, soothing her in a way that she wasn’t even fully aware she needed; by the time she towels off and dries her hair, she almost feels as though the strange episode in the pool wasn’t even real.

Still, she does not quite feel ready for bed, so she puts on a pair of dark jeans and an aquamarine wrap-front blouse. If her ticket grants her unlimited alcohol, she figures that she might as well unwind with a drink or two in one of the ship’s several bars.

She scours the ship for the least obnoxious of the ship’s more casual restaurants and bars, finally settling on a tiki-themed one because it appears to be the least busy. She seats herself at the bar and, after perusing a menu full of complicated cocktails with too many ingredients and probably far too much sugar, opts for a glass of white wine. The bartender is pouring her glass when she feels someone settling in next to her.

“Funny running into you here,” says the younger black man who helped her rescue the other man from the pool not too long ago.

“Why? Because there isn’t some wasted, puffed-up Gordon Gekko wannabe about to drown?”

She watches as he furrows his brow.

“Oh god. He’s okay, isn’t he? He seemed okay when we left,” Diane says.

“No, he’s fine. I checked in with the medics.”

“Good. I’m not that big of an asshole.” She exhales with relief. “You’re too young to know who Gordon Gekko is, aren’t you? Ugh.”

The man hesitates, his face a tight mask that tells her nothing, for a long moment. Finally he busts out into a wide grin.

“Wall Street, right?” he says.

“Thank you for not making me feel like a complete old lady,” Diane says. 

“Old? You?”

“I have a daughter who can’t be that much younger than you.”

“You wear it well, then.” He takes the seat beside her. “Need a nightcap after all that?”

“I think we earned it,” she says as the bartender delivers her glass of wine.

“Can I get a Casamigos reposado and soda with lime?” the man asks the bartender as he presents his own ‘all-you-can-drink’ bracelet. 

The bartender moves off to make his drink, and Diane turns to her new friend.

“So, what possessed you to get on this ship?” she asks. “Here with family?”

He shakes his closely buzzed head. “Nah. I’m flying solo for this one.”

She lets out a little laugh. “Mind if  I ask why?”

“Because I’m crazy comfortable doing stuff on my own?” He waits a few seconds and then shrugs. “Nah, got a discount and did it on a whim. Just left a rough job and have a break. I wanted to do something different. What about you?”

“Trying to get out of my routine, I guess,” Diane says as she picks up her wine. “Very out of my routine.”

He smirks. “Why? You in a rut?”

“Not a rut so much as a complete upheaval of what I thought my life was.”

The bartender places the tequila drink down in front of them. The man thanks him and then turns back to Diane.

“Good reason to get away,” he says. “By the way, what’s your name?”

Her lips curl up. “What’s yours?”

“Me? I’m, uh, I’m Ben.”

“Ben. Nice to meet you.” She looks around, at this strange themed bar on a strange ship somewhere off the coast of Alaska, where she somehow saved a stranger from drowning and is having drinks with a man who has to be a good 20 years younger than her. “I’m Ann Marie.”

“She’s still sleeping,” Paula Fisher reports as she returns to the waiting area outside the hospital’s maternity ward, with her two sons flanking her. “Maybe it’s for the best.”

Brent Taylor, who has been sitting restlessly in a chair, stands. “I kind of envy Molly right now — being asleep and not in touch with reality. I wish I could wake up and have this all be a bad dream.”

Christian Taylor, who has been seated beside his father, now stands quietly behind him.

“Can we get you anything? Either of you?” Tim Fisher asks them.

Brent holds up a palm. “No, but thanks. Actually — could one of you take the twins home? I’m going to spend the night in Molly’s room so I’m here when she wakes up.”

“Are you sure, Brent?” Paula asks. “You need to rest, too.”

“I won’t be able to sleep anyway,” he says. “And I need to be here the minute she’s awake.”

“I tried texting Caleb, but he isn’t answering,” Christian says.

Brent glances to his left and then his right, as if expecting his other son to appear suddenly. “Where is he, anyway?”

“I saw him coming out of the cafeteria when I got here,” Jason explains, “but it’s been a while. “He said he’d see me up here after he ate.”

Paula brings a hand up to cover her mouth. “I hope nothing’s happened to him.”

Tim places his own hand on Paula’s arm to comfort her and questions, “Should we go look for him?”

“It can’t hurt,” Brent says as he takes out his own phone, “but I have a feeling Caleb’s avoiding all of us.”

“Do you think it’s too much for him?” Jason asks.

Brent dials Caleb’s number and holds the phone to his ear. As it rings and rings, he simply says, “It’s a long, complicated story.”

Inside Cassie’s Coffee House, Caleb slumps in a weathered, oversized armchair, scrolling through Instagram on his phone. He didn’t expect the coffee shop to be so busy by this time of night, but the group of people loudly and intensely performing beat poetry on and around the stage seem undaunted by the late hour. Under normal circumstances, Caleb would get up and leave… but under normal circumstances, he would also feel like he could go home, which definitely is not the case right now.

“I thought this stuff was more your twin brother’s style,” a voice says, pulling Caleb’s attention from his phone.

He looks up to see Jasmine Knight standing there, her dark hair piled in a messy bun and a coffee in her hand.

“What are you doing here?” he asks with annoyance.

“Getting myself a little caffeine before I go do something a lot more exciting than whatever this is.” She gestures broadly toward the stage. “So what’s up? Where are all your soccer bros?”

“I don’t know, Jasmine. Don’t you have somewhere to take that caffeine?”

“I’ve got some time to kill,” she says with a smug smile. “Are you gonna tell me why a hotshot jock like you is hanging out all alone in a hippie coffee shop?”

“No,” Caleb says flatly. 

She rolls her eyes. “Who says the cool kids aren’t friendly?”

Caleb pulls his legs up onto the chair. “Why are you even talking to me? You’ve barely even made eye contact with me since that whole thing with the drug bust went down.”

“I’m still pissed that you gave my name to the cops, by the way,” she says. “Thank god that didn’t go anywhere.”

“Except for my parents getting kidnapped and almost burned to death in the trunk of a car.”

“Don’t blame me! I’m not the one who got busted.”

“I only got busted because you sent me to meet that dealer.”

“Note to self: don’t send the sheltered soccer star to do your dirty work for you,” Jasmine says. “What’s with you, anyway? You’re not usually this moody.” 

“I’m not moody,” he says.

“Oh, yeah. Totally not moody. What is it, ‘roid rage or something?”

“Will you shut up?”

“Caleb, you have it pretty damn easy–”

“My mom’s baby died. Okay?” he snaps. “Is that good enough reason for me to be in a shitty mood?”

Jasmine stares back at him, flabbergasted.

—–

Natalie Bishop scurries back up the stairs in her husband’s white robe. Elly Vanderbilt was about the last person she expected to see at their front door tonight, but something about the young lawyer’s visit raised Natalie’s hackles. Why would Elly have needed to see Spencer at this hour? And why did she seem so thrown by the discovery that Natalie and her husband are actually sleeping together?

“There you are,” Spencer says with a sly grin as Natalie returns to his bedroom. “Who was at the door?”

“Just an Amazon package. You know how they are with delivering those Prime boxes. Any time of day or night.”

“I didn’t order anything. Did yo–” Spencer stops himself. “Of course you did.”

Natalie shrugs and unties the robe. “What can I say? I like to get myself presents.”

“Right now, it looks like you’ve got a present for me,” he says, focused intently on her naked body as she drops the robe to the floor.

“I just might. Do you have anything for me?”

Spencer whips the sheet off himself, revealing his just-as-naked body. “Does it look like I do?”

Natalie doesn’t waste another second before pouncing on top of him.

—–

After her encounter with Natalie at the front door — and the subsequent realization that it was Spencer whom Natalie was having sex with tonight — Elly Vanderbilt retreats back to her car. She starts it and begins driving without really knowing where she is headed. At first, she thinks she might head back to her dad and Kathleen’s bar for another drink, but the prospect of explaining to them what has happened — whatever any of this even is — fills her with dread. Instead she heads to her studio apartment downtown, where she is assured of being alone. 

She locks the door and switches on the tabletop lamp beside her couch, providing her with some visibility but still allowing her to be in the dark. 

“What the hell did you almost do?” she says to herself as she swaps her jeans for a pair of yoga pants. The whole thing was idiotic, in retrospect; she nearly gave Spencer — Spencer! — the full truth, the actual truth, about Loretta’s blackmail, out of… what? Some misguided fear that he might be able to help her?  

Better to let sleeping dogs lie, she realizes now, as she goes about flossing and brushing her teeth. Nothing good would come of trusting Spencer. He can’t be trusted. Even the way he was acting like his marriage to Natalie is strictly some arrangement, and then the two of them were going at it like–

Elly shakes her head to rid herself of the mere thought. With a frustrated huff, she finishes brushing her teeth and then collapses onto the couch, eager to find something on Netflix that will make her forget all about tonight.

—–

“Your mom had a miscarriage?” Jasmine asks, her tone softening.

“No. She had the baby early.” Caleb folds his hands and sandwiches them between his knees, which are pulled up nearly to his chest. “He died after he was born.”

“Holy shit. I’m sorry.”

“Thanks.”

The fake-profound babbling of the beat poetry group continues to chip away at Caleb’s sanity as the two of them fall quiet. Jasmine perches on the arm of the chair, and Caleb is too rattled to snipe at her to move.

“Shouldn’t you, like, be with your family?” she asks.

“No,” he says. “I mean, I would. I probably should. But they’re just gonna blame me.”

“Blame you? Why?”

“Because. It’s… it’s a whole thing.”

“This can’t be your fault, Caleb. Your mom’s, like, not young, and it’s a lot riskier to have a baby when you’re older–”

“You wouldn’t get it.”

“Try me.”

He slowly lifts his eyes toward her. She remains still, watching him patiently and simply waiting. But the incessant sounds of the beat poets are too difficult to ignore.

“Do you wanna go somewhere else?” she asks. “Somewhere without them?” 

Caleb hesitates for a moment and then stands up. “Let’s go.”

—–

“And what comes next for you, Doctor?” Diane asks as she places her empty glass down atop the bar. “Another hospital?”

“I think so,” Ben tells her. “I like the energy of a hospital. Just wasn’t a fan of the politics at the one I was at.”

“In my experience, there’s going to be political bullshit anywhere you go.”

“Probably. But different bullshit can be nice sometimes.”

Diane laughs. “Okay. I’ll give you that.”

Ben finishes what’s left of his drink and indicates Diane’s empty glass. “Are you up for one more?”

“I think I’ve had enough for tonight,” she says. “I don’t need to be the person falling in the pool.” 

“Good call.”

“How about you?” she asks. “Are you having one more?”

She notes the glint in his eye as he thinks and then tells her, “Nah. I’m good.”

“Then why don’t I walk you back to your cabin?” she suggests.

The way his mouth slightly curls up on one side tells her that he fully understands what she is saying. Within moments, they are getting out of their seats — but Diane’s purse catches on the back of her chair, dumping much of its contents onto the floor, which is covered in a tacky green astroturf to go along with the tiki theme.

“See? One more of those and I’d probably be in the pool,” she says as she stoops down to gather her things. Before she knows it, Ben is kneeling, too, helping her scoop up various items and return them to her purse.

“Thanks. You’re a gentleman,” Diane says.

“I can be when I want to be.”

Another moment of electric eye contact passes between them. They exit the bar and make their way to the elevator.

“You know, Ann Marie, you still haven’t told me what you do,” Ben comments as they stand side-by-side in the elevator. 

“I was in publishing for a long time. I’ve moved out of that, though. My job now — it isn’t really that interesting.”

“Do you miss publishing?” he asks.

She looks him up and down, admiring his height and how broad his shoulders are. The minimal space between them feels like a challenge, a small gap filled with potential — and that electrifies her.

“Sometimes,” she says, “but it felt like a dying industry. Besides…” She traces a fingernail up the sleeve of his shirt. “I can think of much more interesting things to focus on than work.”

He smirks at her. “Yeah?”

“Absolutely. This is supposed to be a vacation, right?” 

“Right,” he says as the elevator doors part. They walk a few steps down the narrow hallway.

Ben stops at a cabin door. “This is me. So, uh…”

“You really are a gentleman,” Diane says. “I appreciate it.”

“You’re the one who walked me home.”

“I wanted to make sure you made it safely. But I should probably check your cabin to make sure that’s safe, too.”

“I think that’s a good idea,” Ben says, and he inserts his key card. The indicator on the door flashes green as the lock releases.

Diane follows him into the small cabin, which consists of little more than a small stretch of carpeted floor, a queen-size bed, and doors for the bathroom and closet.

“Cute space you’ve got here,” she says.

“Not bad for a week. Wouldn’t mind if it had a window or something — guess it forces me to leave the room and enjoy the ship, though.”

“The only thing is, if you had a window, people might see us doing this,” Diane says, and she pulls him in for a kiss. She can tell by the way Ben immediately locks into a rhythm with her that he has been thinking about this, too. Lust overtakes them both as they feverishly strip away each other’s clothes and fumble their way onto the bed.

—–

“The bed in the guest room should be all made up,” Jason explains as he leads Christian upstairs. “And there are clean towels underneath the vanity in the hallway bathroom. Are you sure you’d rather stay here?”

“Yeah,” the teenager says. “Staying alone at my dad’s house sounded kinda…”

“Spooky? I get it. I have the space here, anyway.”

“Thanks, Uncle Jason.”

After directing Christian to the guest room, Jason retires to the master. His heart is heavy with the knowledge of what Molly had to go through tonight and the grief that she will face in the coming weeks and months; the events of earlier tonight, from his heated confrontation with Sabrina to whatever it was that he nearly did with Natalie, feel days old now. And the buzz he acquired from the drinks at The Wild Lady is but a distant memory.

Once again recalling that he’ll have to retrieve his car from the bar in the morning, he changes into sweatpants and gets a t-shirt from his dresser. He is about to slip it over his head when he hears the distinct sound of the floor creaking downstairs.

At first, he assumes it is just Christian getting water or a snack. He peeks his head out the bedroom door and is about to call out when he notices that the light is on in the upstairs hallway bathroom and the door is closed — meaning that Christian must be in there.

He puts on the t-shirt and is about to shake the whole thing off when he hears the creaking again. Someone is definitely downstairs.

He picks up his cell phone from the nightstand and considers calling 911, but he would feel like a fool causing all that chaos if he’s only imagining things. Instead he punches in the digits but does not place the call, instead sticking the phone into his pants pocket so that he can call for help easily if need be. He then scans the room and grabs an iron fireplace poker.

“Hello?” he calls out as he carefully makes his way down the stairs. “Who’s there?”

There is no response, and he lets out a sigh of relief. As best he can see from his position on the staircase, there are no lights on, no indication of movement or anything. He is about to go back up the stairs when he hears it again: creaking. Someone is in the kitchen.

“Who’s there?” Jason demands. 

He pulls out his phone and is about to press the button to place the call when a light in the living room comes on. Jason turns and holds up his phone.

“I’m calling 911!” he announces, raising the fireplace poker with his other hand. But then he stops cold when he sees the figure step out into his view.

“What are you doing here?” Jason asks, slack-jawed, as he cancels the call.

“Hey, Dad,” Sophie says nervously.

Jason stares in shock at his 14-year-old daughter.

END OF EPISODE 1042

Why is Sophie creeping into her father’s house?
Could Diane’s fling with Ben amount to something?
Will Caleb fall under Jasmine’s spell again?
Talk about all this and more in the comments below! 

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