Their boss drops the bomb: the firm's biggest client is hosting a couples retreat at his Napa vineyard. The partnership decision happens right after. Neither Rin nor Leo has a plus-one, and their boss — in a stroke of oblivious genius — suggests they go together. Neither can refuse without torpedoing their chances.

They meet at a bar to establish the terms of the arrangement. How close is too close. What they call each other. The backstory they'll sell. It should be clinical and professional. It is neither.

Road trip to Napa in Leo's car. Two hours of forced proximity, one aux cord, and the slow realization that they have the same taste in exactly three things and opposite taste in everything else.

The client dinner. Their first real performance as a couple in front of colleagues and the client whose account is worth millions. The performance goes disturbingly well.

Couples activity: a vineyard hike through the hills. Paired off, no escaping each other, and the conversation that happens when you're walking side by side and don't have to make eye contact.

The client hosts a wine tasting that becomes a real evening. Too much pinot noir, a balcony overlooking the vineyard at sunset, and a conversation that has nothing to do with architecture and everything to do with what they've been building between them.

There was, obviously, only one bed. They've been managing it with military precision for two nights. On the third night, after the wine, after the balcony, the precision fails.

The retreat ends. The arrangement is over. They drive back to San Francisco in the same car with everything different and nothing resolved. The partnership decision is Monday.