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tests—do not keep the girls who fail or America will hate you,
because you’re a shallow loser who doesn’t care about moral fiber.”
Kelly made air quotes around moral fiber , nearly flinging
her forkful of pie across the table in the process, and Jack
suppressed a grin.
    She’d been giving him tips on how to succeed
at Marrying Mister Perfect since he came inside after
getting the kids settled on the child-sized backyard picnic table
with their hotdogs. He knew he should be paying closer
attention—he’d probably kill for this information in the next few
weeks—but knowing it would be his last for a while, he just wanted
to enjoy the normalcy of this afternoon. Kelly yammering, Peter
tipped back in his chair nursing the same beer he’d been peeling
the label on for the last hour, and Lou beside him smiling an
absent thank you when she glanced around the table, looking
for something, and he put the whipped cream canister into her hand
without having to be asked.
    Lou’d been quiet all afternoon, but that
might just have been a side effect of not being able to get a word
in edgewise when Kelly got going.
    “Or, if you really want to keep a girl who
fails a test, you have to make a really big deal about second
chances and forgiveness and all that crap. And do it in a way that
the producers can’t edit out.” Kelly made a face. “There are always
some girls who are really horrid cows but beat all the challenges
because they’ve watched the show a million times and know what to
look for. It’s a shame you won’t be able to see the Suitorettes’
confessional footage. The things some of those girls will admit to
on camera. Oi. Do not be one of those idiots, Jack. At all times,
you must remember that everything you say can and will be
used against you in the court of public opinion.”
    “Yes, ma’am.”
    “You should be writing this down.” Kelly
frowned.
    “ You should write it down,” Jack
suggested. “ How to Beat Marrying Mister Perfect . Instant
bestseller.”
    Kelly’s eyes lit. “I’ll make you a manual!
Will you have email when you’re there?”
    “I don’t think so. It sounds like all contact
with the outside world is pretty restricted.”
    Small fingers tapping on the glass of the
sliding door forestalled whatever Kelly would have said next. Emma
squeezed through the opening and padded over to stand at Lou’s side
with mustard in her hair and her lower lip shoved out in a pout.
“The boys are being mean.”
    “Boys are dumb,” Kelly announced without a
second’s hesitation.
    “Hey,” Peter protested mildly.
    Kelly stuck her tongue out at her husband,
causing Emma to giggle. Out of the corner of his eye Jack saw Lou
suppressing a smile. It was a small moment, one of a million little
memories of his girls he’d be missing while he was away. His chest
tightened.
    Jack shoved his chair back from the table,
opening his arms. “Come here, baby. You can help me finish my pie.” Daddy has to be on National television shirtless next
week.
    “Really?” Emma didn’t have to be asked twice.
She clambered up into his lap, bony elbows jabbing him in every
possible soft tissue before she finally settled into place and dug
into his pie. Jack looped his arms around her and rested his chin
on top of her baby-fine hair.
    He glanced to his left and caught Lou
watching them. Her expression was inscrutable—like she was so far
down into her own mind none of what she was thinking could make it
to the surface. He’d caught that expression on her face a lot
lately.
    “Oh!” Kelly burst out suddenly. “The
compatibility tests! When they reveal the results to you—I think
that’s week four?—there’s always one girl who is like
ninety-nine-point-nine percent compatible with you. Keep her. Even
if there is no sizzle whatsoever. The ones who ended up picking
their most compatible matches as the final winners are the only
couples who make it past the first year.”
    “All two of them,” Peter