SIX
Maeve
My head is spinning as I walk out of the party. I cannot lose this podcast. I’ve worked too hard on it. It’s supposed to be one for them, one for me. A few years of in-your-face content that exploits my privacy, and then my own show once fans care enough about me to watch me without Finn. But that’s never going to happen. I grab my keys from the valet Evangeline hired and start to get into my car.
“Maeve! Wait, wait.” Finn is running out of the house, chasing after me. “Can we please talk about this?”
I sit in the driver’s seat, and Finn grabs my door, stopping it from closing. It shouldn’t be so sexy, seeing his palm straining against the door I was about to close, the other arm braced against the car. My stomach twists despite myself as I remember the last time those hands were on me … but I push the thoughts away firmly. “What more is there to say? We’ll record with your mom, get the ratings up, then get back to normal.” Or a version of it.
“ Maeve. Please. Don’t let hating me keep you from making Tell Me How You Really Feel great. Let’s go to a diner like we used to in New York, have a brainstorm sesh.” Before I can interject, he rushes to continue. “I know it’s not like it was. But let’s find a new way to make this work, instead of putting a Band-Aid on it. Come on.”
I let go of the door and clutch the steering wheel with white knuckles. I hate that he’s right. “Fine. Get in.”
Twenty minutes later, Finn has directed me to a tiny diner on the outskirts of his neighborhood. It’s inside of a vintage cable car that they’ve restored to be the tiniest of diners. It’s cute. I wish it were a soulless chain restaurant so I wouldn’t have to, for the millionth time, be charmed by the places Finn took me to. We used to go to diners all the time in New York during our walk of shame debriefs, the twenty-four-hour kind, not the hipster avocado-toast brunch places our college friends frequented. Finn would spend hours researching, finding the most unique places. Once, he even rented a car to take me to a speakeasy-style diner in the Hudson Valley. He took me to the diner from When Harry Met Sally and reenacted the orgasm scene in reverse, inspiring viral videos from other customers and invoking a lifetime ban for both of us.
The moment we sit down, Finn scans the menu, and when the waiter comes to take our order, he places it without consulting me. Which would have been sweet before, but now it irks me. “We’ll have the crab rangoon omelet, a chocolate shake, a strawberry shake, and coffees please.”
The waitress winces when he orders the omelet. “And scrambled eggs with toast,” I add.
She nods eagerly at this logical half of the order. “On it.”
When I look away from her and toward Finn, he looks hurt. “That omelet is going to be awful,” I say.
“I know. That’s why we have the milkshakes.”
I stare at him. He doesn’t get to be the person who knows me best anymore. I need to keep space between us because I won’t be able to do this if I feel like he still occupies half of my brain. “So. You wanted to brainstorm?”
Finn wipes the crushed expression off his face. I really can’t take his hurt feelings seriously because I know he doesn’t hold my feelings as carefully as I’ve always held his. I always thought that everyone else just didn’t understand how sensitive and thoughtful he is. That his brasher, bolder, na?ve nepo-baby spoiled persona was just that, a persona. But in reality, he was acting with me.
“Right. So, just to lay it all on the table … our relationships are off-limits. Our show is giving each other relationship advice so we can find love. My mom is coming on this week, and she is famous. No one wants to hear us do our show separately. No spark, yada yada.” I roll my eyes to hide how much it stings that our fans hate having me solo. That I’m not talented enough. That without Finn none of this would have happened. “If we drop in the ratings, we’re axed, and—”
“I’m axed,” I interrupt. “You’re fine.”
“There’s no me without you, Maeve.” Finn’s tone is earnest, heavy with emotion. He’ll be a great actor once he’s done with this show. Done with me. “I’m not going to do a show without you.”
I don’t say anything for a moment, and the waitress arrives with our milkshakes and food. She wrinkles her nose at the offensive omelet, which reeks. After she leaves, I lean toward Finn. “Don’t eat it. You’re going to get food poisoning. You need to be alive to record.”
Finn grabs his fork and cuts a piece directly from the center. Crab mush drips from his fork. He holds eye contact with me as he puts it into his mouth. He stifles a gag as he chews and swallows. “I’m not going to ruin our streak. We’ve tried everything else.”
We used to count as one. If he tried, it would count for both of us. “Your streak now.” The smile in his eyes dims, and for the first time since all of this, I feel a tiny bit bad for refusing to let him back in. But I know what Sarah would say. What Shazia would say. Fuck him.
“Maybe we should have guests,” Finn blurts out. “Beyond my mom. Other shows have guests, and it really boosts them.”
I know he’s thinking of The Paul Myers Show . Paul Myers will have anyone on, the more extreme the better. And he goads them into saying inflammatory things for ratings. But, each guest does bring their fan base with them, and many of those people stay. And having celebs on the show generates press. Previously, we held off on guests despite people begging to come on, because we didn’t want to let anyone disrupt our dynamic. But there’s no dynamic left.
“Starting with Evangeline is huge. Seeing her on it will make other A-listers want in. Do you think they’d actually be willing to talk about their sex and relationships with us? I don’t want to go so off topic, talking about their movies and random stuff.”
“If that’s our requirement for them to come on. And if my mom does it.” Finn smiles, and I’m reflexively grinning back before I can stop myself, which only makes him light up more. I forgot what it was like to brainstorm with him. How alive it makes me feel, like every brain cell is firing and we can only go up.
“I could provide more serious advice. Tap back into how I used to be a real therapist at the counseling center. And you could offer a guy’s perspective like usual. Banter, keep them comfortable. Thank god I finished everything so I can say I’m a fully licensed therapist now.”
“You mean your five thousand hours of supervision? That was brutal.”
“It was only three thousand.”
“Ah, only three thousand. That’s nothing.”
I smile in spite of myself. Back when I was completing my master’s and getting my clinical and supervision hours, it felt like I would never be done. I remember Finn comforting me at a diner a lot like this while I went down an anxiety spiral over not being a full therapist and making real money until I was twenty-five, almost twenty-six really, as I liked to point out when I was feeling especially anxious. Little did I know that basically the moment I finished supervision the show would take off, and at twenty-seven I’d have an amount of money in my bank account that I couldn’t even fathom. I take a huge sip of my chocolate milkshake as though sugar will make me forget all those years that Finn was truly my best friend, and I recoil with brain freeze.
“You always do that,” Finn whispers.
“I can’t help it. I need to wipe away the thought of you throwing up that omelet in your mouth. It’s revolting.”
“Guilty as charged.” Finn takes a much more reasonable sip of his shake, then goes to reach for mine. And stops himself, folds his hands in his lap. He’s probably getting grease all over his expensive tux. I’m going to destroy this dress with how much I’m sweating in it, from the stress and exhilaration of being around Finn. “I think this is a great idea, though. We’ll get that celeb boost. It’s a transition, so it explains why we’re not talking about … us. And Maeve, you’ll be so amazing at this. You’re great on the show now, but you could be doing so much more.”
“I was actually thinking about doing my own show at some point,” I blurt out. “I want to do like, serious therapy, with regular people. And let listeners in on every minute of it, plus add some commentary of my own so it helps the listeners more.” A blush rises on my cheeks. I wish I had more makeup on. I’m so pale that I can’t hide anything when I’m embarrassed; even my ears turn pink. I shouldn’t be telling him this. It’s extra, beyond the talking we need to do to work together.
“I think that’s brilliant. Why aren’t you already doing it? I’m sure Streamify would fund a second show for you.”
I shake my head. Of course, Finn thinks everyone has the same privilege he does. He’s never understood when I or friends of ours worried about things, whether it was the cost of an Uber to the airport or not being able to get in to a master’s program. If he wasn’t so generous, he’d be infuriating. “We’re not all a celebrity, Finn. They won’t. They want us together, not me solo. Maybe in a few years when we’ve proved ourselves.”
He looks angry. His jaw flexes and I can tell he’s grinding his teeth, a flash of irritation in his clear eyes. “That’s such bullshit. You’re smarter than anyone on their roster now. Your show would be the best thing that ever happened to them. Why don’t I talk to Derek, I think—”
I feel a burning sensation in my nose and the back of my eyes and try to convince myself it’s brain freeze, not impending tears. I blink rapidly to keep them from spilling over my lashes and leaving black streaks down my cheeks. When I get anxious like this, I cry easily, and despite all these years working on myself—the time I spent in therapy is what made me want to be a therapist in the first place—I feel embarrassed that I’m so emotional around Finn now. I hate that this is what our relationship has turned into. I don’t know why I ever thought Finn and I would work together. He doesn’t understand what it’s like to be a real person. Right now, I feel like I’m cosplaying at being a low-level celebrity, but the last few years he was cosplaying at being a normal guy while he took a break from being famous famous. It’s all been a lark for him; I’m twice as serious and still never going to catch up to what he was born into. And I don’t want him fighting my battles for me. I’ll earn the show through hard work and good ratings. And even then, I won’t get the respect; everyone will still say it was handed to me, or that I just talk about sex, or whatever disparaging, sexist thing is brought out next to disparage women like me who actually care about our careers and striving. “You don’t get it,” I snap. “We don’t have to talk about it. And don’t talk to Derek.”
I take one more long sip of my milkshake and put it back down on the table. “I’ll see you when we record.” And then I clomp out in my heels, and it only burns slightly more than it would’ve before we talked when I look over my shoulder and see that Finn is shamelessly watching me leave.
In therapy this week I found myself lamenting the fact that I’ve never felt anything close to what I’ve felt for Finn with anyone else. My therapist suggested that maybe he’s the one person I actually let in, and that seriously dating other people could help. But I lasted all of five minutes with my dating apps downloaded before the anxiety got to me and I deleted them all again. I don’t have it in me to open up when I’m already going to have to reopen my deepest wound every week when we record together.
And the mood in the studio on Tuesday is tense . I go in early and set up a fourth and fifth camera with Leo so that we have a close-up on Evangeline and a duo shot of her and Finn. Seeing them next to each other is eerie. Although Finn has a lot of his dad’s features and a more masculine jaw, he’s definitely a pretty boy. And their light blue eyes are absolutely stunning. I would tune in just to get to see them together.
Finn teased the episode with a few of the photos of the three of us from the party, and our fans freaked out. We got thousands of messages, with questions people wanted us to ask Evangeline during Questions of the Week, and fans wanting to know if Finn and I were on the rocks. And then when Streamify shared the money shot of Finn and me … it was picked up by every outlet and shared over a hundred thousand times by fans speculating that we’ve been keeping things quiet because we’re together. Fat chance. They don’t know that Finn would never seriously date someone who isn’t of his pedigree. That he’d only ever be into me for fun while he kept looking for the real deal.
“Wow, I feel like I’m on a movie set. In someone’s wet dream,” Evangeline jokes.
“Mom!” Finn flinches. “We’re recording already.”
“What! You two said you wanted me to talk about the ole razzle dazzle.”
Finn moans and drops his head to the table, which is sans penis mics. “Oh my god. Don’t ever call it that again.”
I jump in. “And we’re back with another episode of Tell Me How You Really Feel . Today we have our inaugural guest … Evangeline Sutton!”
“AKA, my mom,” Finn adds.
“I think they know that, Finn. You’re basically her clone,” I tease. It is much easier to play nice with him when we have a chaperone present. Evangeline looks pleased by our back-and-forth, her gaze traveling between us while her eyes twinkle.
Finn leans over and wraps his arm around his mom so their heads are next to each other. “I just don’t see it.” Now I’m the one rolling my eyes. “But anyway, you’re right, Mom. We did bring you here to get into the nitty gritty. Sex, relationships, all of that. No need to keep it PG, even though I may have to go to therapy to get this wiped from my memory.”
“Aw Finn, you have a therapist sitting right in front of you. I think you’ll live.” I sound flirtatious. I’ve listened to a lot of our old episodes this past week, to try to make sure I can emulate the old version of me, and not sound like I would love nothing more than to pulverize Finn’s heart like he did mine. In all of our episodes, we sound like we’re seconds away from turning off the mic and taking off our clothes. The chemistry is frankly oppressive.
“Agreed!” Evangeline remarks. “I didn’t raise you to be afraid of sex talk. And since I’m your first ever guest, I’d love to kick this off with a bang. I am all about eliminating the gaps in our society. The pay gap. The academic achievement gap. And …” She hits the table, right in the center of the vagina, where the clit would be if it was more anatomically accurate. “The orgasm gap.”
Evangeline makes eye contact with me meaningfully. We did a precall to talk through what she would be comfortable discussing, and she told me she was willing to talk about how she and Richard overcame a glaring orgasm gap. I jump in. “For those of you listeners who haven’t heard of the orgasm gap—”
Finn coughs into the mic. “Heterosexual men!”
“It’s referring to the disparity in orgasm frequency between men and women. Studies vary, but some show that in heterosexual relationships ninety-five percent of men orgasm during sex, while only sixty-three percent of women can say the same. Which is strange, because men and women are equally as likely to orgasm while masturbating.”
“So basically, men suck and aren’t focused on female pleasure,” Finn jumps in, with the layman’s perspective.
“In a way, yes,” I agree. “But it’s not entirely their fault. Media, from movies to books to standard porn, all depict sex in a way that focuses solely on male pleasure. It doesn’t pass the clit test, so to speak, since they don’t acknowledge the clit at all. And did you know that if a movie has a female orgasm, it’s often rated NC-17 instead of R, while a male orgasm can get away with a PG-13 rating? Anyways, for most women, the clit needs to be stimulated for them to orgasm.” I turn toward Evangeline. “So Evangeline, what is your experience with the orgasm gap?”
Evangeline smiles widely, knowing that this clip will go viral. “For the first year of my relationship with Richard, my husband of thirty-one years, I never orgasmed. Not once.”
Finn’s jaw drops. “Dad! Come on!”
Evangeline nods. “I know, right? But back then, no one was having conversations about sex like you two do. I was in my twenties, and I’d only had a bit of good sex. And when I met your dad, we fell hard for each other. We’re still falling for each other every day, as I’m sure Finn knows.”
“I can confirm. Since moving back to LA I’ve seen them make out more times than any son should have to. It’s like they forgot how to shut the door.” Finn turns toward his mom. “So I know dad must have figured out how to get something right. What changed after that first year?”
“What changed is that we started talking about sex. He thought he had to act all macho and try to please me like he’d seen in the movies, especially since I was a literal movie star.” Evangeline flicks her hair. Maybe I’ll throw up a few paparazzi or premiere photos of her here in the edit. She was huge after their Malibu Rising adaptation came out, right when she started getting serious with Richard. “He didn’t even know where the clit was , since there was almost no sexual education back then. And I thought I was supposed to act like he was doing a great job, even though he wasn’t even close to getting me to orgasm. Which irked me! Because it’s so much easier for guys to come, he was batting a thousand. And most of my friends, even other married actresses who were so gorgeous and successful, were used to almost never orgasming with their partners. They just advised me to buy a great vibrator and use it while he was in the shower afterward. So I didn’t know what to do, especially because everything else in our relationship was perfect. He was my soulmate, I was completely certain. But I didn’t know if I could commit to a life without orgasms. I remember when I brought it up to him, I was so nervous that he would take it badly and that it would be the end of us. But now, I’m so happy that I was open and fought for my pleasure. Because Richard loves me and wanted to learn how to make me feel amazing. It turned out it was actually a relief for him to be told exactly what I liked so he wasn’t fumbling around in the dark.”
It’s hard to believe that Evangeline is willing to be this open with us. To let us air this. Even now, although sex is much less taboo, I speak much more openly—and graphically—about it than other women do publicly. And household name celebrities just don’t. This will break the internet. “What exactly did you say to Richard back then?”
Evangeline tilts her head, thinking. “I think it was something like, ‘ Babe, you know how I said I always come when we have sex? I lied. It’s never gonna happen unless you figure out how to touch me. ’ Not very eloquent. I think I definitely could have gone about it better. But after we had a heated conversation initially, we were able to talk about what I actually needed from him and it worked better from there. Even now, we’re still learning new things about each other. But Maeve, I’m curious. Since you are a licensed therapist, what would you have said?”
We hadn’t discussed this, but I appreciate the question. It gives me a chance to show off my actual skills, and edges me a tiny bit closer to my solo show. “Well first off, let me say that having the conversation at all is better than holding it in. It’s amazing that you brought it up and advocated for your O, even though your friends were accepting way less. But, what I would say is to have the conversation out of the bedroom, and to keep it positive. The bedroom should be for fun stuff, sleeping, sex, cuddling—”
“Does that mean no more podcasting and takeout in bed?” Finn asks with a pout.
“Maybe if you ask nicely …” I tease. “But seriously, I’d have these conversations on the couch, in the car, at the dinner table. Somewhere private, but less intimate. And it’s easy for a partner to feel attacked or emasculated when they find out they haven’t been doing it for you. So, a great way to have the conversation can be to frame it in a positive way. So instead of saying, ‘What you’re doing is so bad. I literally never come,’ you could say, ‘Babe, I love you so much, and although sex does make me feel close to you, I’d really love to come every time. What you’re doing now does feel good, but can I tell you, or show you, what would feel incredible and make me come so hard?’”
Finn leans into the mic. “Maeve, I think you’re a genius. If a girl told me that, I wouldn’t even realize she’s saying I’m not doing it for her yet. I’d be turned on!”
“You heard it here first, people,” Evangeline jokes.
We spend another hour recording with Evangeline, and I step back and let Finn take more of the lead on Questions of the Week since I was all in on the beginning. And even though it’s hard to jump back into this teasing, flirty dynamic with Finn, I leave the studio with a smile on my face. I know this week’s episode will be a hit.