Manhattan, night. I think we're supposed to be a little uncertain as to whether it's Bridget or Siobhan arriving at the Martin's Park Avenue digs, but I can't maintain the pretense and have this make sense, so [SPOILER] it's Bridget. She gets out of the car and manages to fool the doorman, so good show. When she gets off the elevator she's confronted by a seven foot high black and white photo of her own face... well, of her twin's face. As she scopes out her sister's home, Andrew Martin (Ioan Gruffudd) arrives home. When her welcome kiss is a little more generous than an icy peck, Andrew's taken aback. He's also surprised when she's fine with the fact that he doesn't want to go to the ballet. Andrew then kindly takes his shirt off for those of us in the audience who have a pulse, and tells his not-wife that he's headed for the shower.
Once she's alone, Bridget heads out to the balcony and calls Malcolm and fills him in on her escape from Officer Jimmy, her sister's suicidal (she assumes) boat ride, and her decision to assume Siobhan's life. We're treated to a flashback montage accompanied by the Pacifika cover of Chicago's "25 or 6 to 4," which makes no more or less sense here than anywhere else, so why the heck not. Already emotional, Bridget freaks out when she spots a man watching her from the street and cuts off her call with Malcolm, who offers to come get her. In Siobahn's dressing room, Bridget sneaks Officer Jimmy's gun out of Siobhan's purse and hides it in the scarf drawer. She then heads to bed where she feigns sleep as a still shirtless, but now blue-jammie-pants-wearing Andrew peeks in on her and seems disgusted that his wife might sleep at night. With his cold reaction to her earlier kiss, I can't imagine he was hoping for a little loving -- at least not from "Siobhan."
The next morning, Andrew is up and dressed, while Bridget's still sleeping. When the phone rings, he snaps at her to answer it, making me go over and kiss my husband who is just the opposite. I've been in bed a lot the last few weeks because of my back. When he works from home and I go up to lie down during the day, Scott takes the cordless out of our room so I won't even hear the phone ring. Thank you, honey. We might not have a posh Park Ave. place, but at least you don't give me frostbite when I kiss you hello. And you don't care about any of that, so I'll get back to it. It's Siobhan's best friend Gemma on the phone, complaining that Siobhan stood her up. When she references Siobhan's orange appointment book, Bridget quickly opens it and figures out who is calling and from where. She promises to be there in 20 minutes. Gemma tells her to make it 30 and get her a latte.