TWENTY-EIGHT
Maeve
The past few weeks I’ve felt alarmingly calm. It’s unusual for me to feel truly calm. Typically, I have a low-level underlying hum of anxiety, that with the right elixir of relaxation techniques stays there, and with the wrong cocktail of stress and triggers turns into a full on panic attack. But ever since Finn and I really fixed things it’s like my body and mind breathed a huge sigh of relief and suddenly I feel calm.
Not just calm. Happy. For the first time since getting this deal, it feels like something I can actually be excited about. This big murder scene of a house is mine —after months of living in it I went ahead and made an offer—we’ve been number one for weeks, and I’m going to show little girls all over the world that yes, we can beat out a misogynist prick and make podcast deal history. I take my laptop out to the back deck and open a new document.
Maeve’s Solo Show
I’ve tried not to think too hard about the show, because I don’t know if it’ll actually happen. But I’m half of the most popular podcast in the world right now. Even if Streamify doesn’t want this, I do, so it’s happening. My initial vision for this show was pretty simple, just recording therapy sessions. And I still want that to be the crux of the show. But now that I’ve had some time away from the rough start to this season, and the rejection I felt when I pitched this … doing this as a sort of reality TV show doesn’t sound so bad. Maybe I do solo sessions with each person, sessions with them together, and we get a glimpse into their real life. And instead of going at warp speed through one couple an episode and piecing together clips from a six-month journey … maybe I work with five or six couples experiencing the same core issue and the episodes intercut clips of all of them. So, over the course of a ten-episode season, we see all of the journeys, and where some couples struggle others may succeed. We could even put hidden cameras in their homes to capture B-roll, instead of having a camera crew, so that they act more natural.
This is much more ambitious than Tell Me How You Really Feel . Even though we have guests now, I’m still completely capable of recording and editing our show basically solo. There’s not B-roll to overlay, different locations to go to, anything like that. For this show—maybe I’ll call it The Couch or On the Couch —I’d need a whole crew, probably a network backing me.
I text Finn, excited about this new idea.
Want to come over later and talk solo show?
DUH
I’m in my pajamas, eating my half of the Thai food I ordered for us, when Finn finally shows up at eight thirty. Finn walks in without knocking. I added him to my digital lock a week after we got back from the trip, and I’ve woken up to him in the kitchen eating my cereal, thinking I have a ghost, three times since. “You’re abusing your lock privileges. At least ring before you come in,” I shout without looking up from The Bachelor .
“I brought Ben & Jerry’s and Thai.” Finn laughs when he walks into the living room and sees me already eating food from our new favorite Thai place in LA. “Well, leftover Thai food is a great breakfast.”
“What flavor ice cream?” I ask, tilting my head back to look at him upside down.
“Half Baked?”
“Already in the freezer.”
“How am I supposed to make up for being late when you already have everything?” Finn puts the ice cream in the freezer, then brings his Thai food into the living room. He’s ordered all the same things, but about one and a half times the quantities I have, meaning we now have enough for six to eight people, instead of four.
“Buy yourself a nice watch and be timely,” I retort.
I spend the next fifteen minutes filling him in on every detail of what I’m thinking for the show, not stopping until I’m breathless and have not one good idea left to say. I’ve turned completely away from the TV, which is still running, although I haven’t heard one word of the group date. My knee is resting on his thigh, and he’s angled toward me too, half-finished food forgotten on the table. I can smell his fresh-from-the-shower scent, could count his stubble. His arm is along the back of the couch, and if I shifted just the tiniest bit, we’d be cuddling. Which we’re pointedly not doing.
“Maeve, I think that would be brilliant. I’ve never seen a show like that. And I’ve watched a lot of TV.” Finn smiles at me, flushed with excitement from my idea, and I can’t hold back a grin. “I mean, when does it start? What network? Streamify might want it to be their first foray into reality TV, but I feel like any network would want this.”
“I mean, I wasn’t really going to think seriously about that stuff until the end of our contract.” I run to the kitchen and grab the pint of Ben & Jerry’s and two spoons. “I don’t want to lose focus on this initial goal, you know? It’s still really important to me.”
Finn digs his spoon into the ice cream, which is a bit soft from the drive over here. He takes out a gaping spoonful and shoves it all in his mouth. “The contract is three years long,” he says after swallowing.
The side of his mouth has chocolate dripping from it. I reach out and wipe it off with my finger, gently rubbing over his mouth. My stomach twists, and I feel a pull somewhere lower. I probably shouldn’t have done that. But it felt really good … His eyes are glued to mine, and I think we’re both holding our breath. “We need to stay number one for four more months. If we do that, I’ll consider multitasking.”
“And if your solo show takes off? What will you do when our contract is up?” Finn hasn’t looked away from me since I touched his mouth, which was way too sensual a thing to do. I almost licked the ice cream off my finger after.
“If everything goes perfectly? Film the show during our holiday or summer breaks, and keep doing Tell Me How You Really Feel . As long as you are.”
“If you stick with the show, I stick with the show.”
“Good,” I say. Or try to. It comes out as barely more than a whisper. Something about having Finn’s eyes on me makes my heart beat too hard in my chest. I cough, trying to break the mood. “Want to finish this episode? I can rewind?”
“Sure,” Finn agrees.
I turn The Bachelor back on from the beginning and dim the lights with the remote. Finn holds the ice cream between us with his left hand, his right arm still along the back of the couch. We trade snarky barbs as the show plays, and when two girls start pranking the rest of the house we dissolve into laughter. And move closer together. Suddenly, I’m flush against Finn’s chest, his arm still hovering on the back of the couch, not quite around my shoulders.
“Can I lean?” I ask, before I can think better of it. Because I know better than to complicate things further between us. But right now, I don’t care. I just want to dispel the two inches of space keeping us from where we once were.
“Of course,” Finn whispers.
I fully relax against him, and he tentatively drops his arm around me, slowly, as though if he prevents it from being a jump scare, I’ll forget that we do not cuddle anymore. But I lean into it. I cuddle against him, pull his arm closer, and stretch my legs across the couch so my full weight is against his solid body. The show keeps playing but I barely hear it, and Finn isn’t bantering either. I can feel how fast his heart is beating under my head and his hand feels hot on my arm.
This isn’t even the most intimate cuddling in our repertoire. Back in New York we used to lie in bed, my leg hiked across him, head tucked against his chest, and arm thrown territorially across his chest. How did we ever tell ourselves we were just friends? That we were actually giving dating a shot, not just doing it for show content? I never really believed we would date seriously, because he basically was my boyfriend. Which is why Cassidy was such a shock. Even though I gave him permission … he took it. And he asked for it, which is what was most heartbreaking.
“You could be the bachelor, you know,” I say. “America loves you.” I want to break the tense silence, let us collapse into pretending this is normal again.
“They always use people from past seasons now.”
“So you’d do it? If that wasn’t true? I’m sure for you they’d make an exception. You could film that while I film my show, have your own thing.” I know Finn likes doing Tell Me How You Really Feel , but I still don’t think it’s his perfect creative project, it’s just a huge improvement on his finance job. He still doesn’t seem to be thinking that hard about acting again, or finding that fulfillment in another way, but I don’t want to push too much, since I know that’s all his parents do.
Finn laughs, the sound a deep rumble against me, his breath hot on my head. He squeezes me tighter. “No. I am not going to be the bachelor. I’m not looking for anyone new.” And then all of my thoughts about his career are forgotten because he said that . Not looking for anyone new . Doesn’t say why. Doesn’t add anything to that momentous statement. I open my mouth to respond, then just close it.
We don’t speak the rest of the episode, and when it fades to credits we let another start, unwilling to move. The remnants of the ice cream are melting on the coffee table, the Thai food is sitting out stinking up the living room and going bad, but I don’t care. I would give anything to stay here, to not have reality hit when we separate.
I wake up in the morning and the show is still playing on the TV, the volume muted. I’m covered with a blanket, now completely intertwined with Finn on this ridiculously comfortable couch. And he’s sound asleep, remote in hand, muting the TV having evidently been his final move. Every movement of my neck sends shooting pain down my spine, and my left arm is tingling from being crushed under Finn all night. I try to move gingerly and not wake him, but since I’m fully on top of him, the moment I move he half wakes up. And he pulls me closer into him.
He burrows his head into my hair, and I’m suddenly aware that I feel the push of morning wood underneath my thigh. And it should not make me feel as turned on as I do. It’s unfair. But everything about Finn is like it was designed to be exactly for me. His height, his eyes, his hair, his laugh, his sense of humor, it’s all perfect. It’s what I’ve always looked for, but better. He checks boxes I didn’t know I could ask for. I let myself be pulled in, subtly pressing closer to him, forgetting about my stiff neck and tingling arm because it feels so good to be held by him. I must fall asleep, because the next thing I know I’m floating, or actually, he’s carrying me up to my bed.
Finn stands on one leg and uses the other to push the covers back without missing a beat, then puts me underneath them. My eyelids flutter open. “Stay,” I command.
He chuckles. “I was planning on it.”
He climbs over me, to the other side of the bed, and gets under the covers. Happily, we’re now on the opposite side, so at least the cricks in my neck will be even. He tugs me to him, and I let him wrap his arm around me, cuddling close. And I fall back asleep, so easily.
But when I wake up this time, Finn is gone. I reach over to touch his side of the bed. It’s cold. My heart sinks as I climb out of bed and brush my teeth. I pull my most comfortable sweatshirt on and head downstairs, the low hum of anxiety in my head buzzing louder and louder while I wonder whether Finn is still here. Halfway down I hear music and breathe a sigh of relief. Last night was so, so stupid. But maybe I don’t care. Maybe getting my hopes wrapped up in the shape of Finn isn’t the worst thing I’ve ever done. Maybe.
Because he’s standing in my kitchen making crepes, wearing one of my hoodies, with its too-short sleeves, singing along to “Cruel Summer.” He doesn’t hear me come in, so I watch him dancing, flipping crepes, carefully cutting strawberries, and arranging them on a plate. When he turns around to put the plate on the kitchen island, he starts.
“You’re up!” He holds the plate out toward me, and I see he’s arranged the strawberries into an M. And next to them is a strangely shaped blob of crepe. “It’s a microphone,” he explains sheepishly. “My nanny used to make these, but she was much better at it.”
I grab a fork and stab the crepe, taking a huge bite. “Well, it’s the taste that counts. And I approve.”
Finn finishes cooking and we eat, the tension of cuddling last night lingering. But I don’t want things to be like they were. I don’t want to cuddle and wonder and not talk about it. Every second it’s not addressed is making me more anxious. “Let’s do an episode,” I blurt out.
“About … what?” Finn asks, but the uncertainty in his eyes makes it clear he knows.
I put my fork down, no longer hungry. I’m ready for the answers. I no longer feel so fragile that hearing them might set off the mother of all panic attacks. We’ve worked through it. We’re good. I’m good. “All of it. I want to talk about it. For real.”
“Maeve, are you sure? We can talk about it without recording.”
I take Finn’s hand, and he squeezes mine back immediately. “We started this with our fans, then cut them out. Let’s let them hear it. The good, the bad, and the ugly. I’m tired of hiding us just because it’s messy. It feels dishonest.”
Finn frowns. “I’ll record it. But I’m not going to promise we’ll release it.”
This all feels reckless. But also, maybe, just a little bit right. Until everything went to shit between us, we had shared absolutely everything with our fans, and I know that they’re dying to know what has happened. Finn cleans up breakfast while I set up the cameras I have from our old setup on tripods in my bedroom. We’re taking this back to our roots, recording in bed. This is just the giant, fluffy, high- thread-count version. I grab recorders, unable to find our old mics, and then Finn joins me in the bed.
“Hello, everyone. Things have been different lately on Tell Me How You Really Feel , and we appreciate you all sticking with us through the growing pains and giving us our privacy the past few months. We’ve been working through some personal stuff and we’re finally going to hash it out, here, now, with you. I haven’t wanted to hear how Finn feels the past few months, but now I’m ready for him to tell me how he really feels. So, Finn, let’s hear it. What happened with Cassidy?” We never use people’s real names, and now I’m going to have to bleep out her name in post every time we say it. But I want this to feel more like a real conversation than an episode of the podcast.
“You’re really going to start there?” he asks. “Start with us.”
“Then you do it. Start with us.” If he thinks I’m going to put my heart on the line first, he’s not thinking clearly.
“Maeve and I were friends in college. But we fell for each other while we were doing the show. Which, just saying, does not make for great content. Wild sexcapades and interesting dates to find our people are what the show was all about. We were supposed to be each other’s sounding boards. But I mean, how could I not fall in love with Maeve? She’s incredible, you all know that.”
I jump in. “And I felt the same. We have so much fun together, and, I mean, I don’t know if you’ve all noticed … but Finn is not bad to look at.” Finn looks at me, waiting to see if I’ll really tell all. My breath catches in my throat when I look into his eyes. I always thought it was just something people said in books and movies, that they could read everything someone was feeling in their eyes, that they could feel completely seen. But with Finn, right now, I really can. So I keep going. “One night, we slept together. And it was incredible.”
“Mind-blowing. The best night of my life.”
I roll my eyes. “Considering you were taking Cassidy out within a month, I highly doubt that.”
Finn frowns. “You said you wanted us to be on pause for a month. And a month had passed! I thought you might have just been letting me down gently. And we were on a break, and things just happened to start to play out with Cassidy, and you gave me permission. I didn’t realize what I was doing was so … wrong. I didn’t think it was against the rules.”
“Finn. Come on. Is this an apology or not? Because I don’t hear you taking responsibility for anything. If you actually cared, you wouldn’t go and take out the one that got away. It’s not like you even just slept with someone! You took her on a date, like to see if there was a future. And when you realized she was interested, you called to ask permission. I wasn’t going to stand in your way, so I called things off. Because clearly you weren’t serious about me. Your call was everything I needed to know. It was what I knew would happen and it hurt so fucking much.”
Finn shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath. “Maeve, I’m sorry. We’ve always been up-front with each other and I really thought that since you said I should see things through with her that it was okay with you.”
I can’t help but interrupt. “If you actually liked me—or loved me like you said—you wouldn’t have wanted to try with her at all. That is really it. I knew you didn’t like me so I didn’t stand in your way.”
Finn groans. “Fine! I’m sorry! I’m stupid. I thought you were pulling away and it got weird. But if you had said, ‘No, Finn, don’t do it, I really want to try,’ then I would have walked away and tried with you. And the only reason I even considered it is that she isn’t just ‘other people’ … she was my first kiss and someone I’ve known for so long and always wondered about, and maybe would always won der about if I didn’t see it through, and I also kind of thought it would be silly not to try. When that’s what we’d been doing for two years! Trying to find the one. And when I asked, you told me to do it.”
“I thought we’d found each other already.” I sound bitter and try to blink back my tears. I resent him for ever making me feel this way. And I hate that all of the incredible feelings I have for him are polluted by this situation. Finn starts to speak again, but I hold up a hand to stop whatever he’s about to say, in an effort try to steer the conversation back toward productivity. “Circular breathing. Let’s do circular breathing.” We both do a few rounds of breathing independently, then Finn starts talking.
“I understand why you’re upset. Do I think I behaved my best? Toward either of you? No. But I am sorry. And you haven’t let me say that.”
I let out a frustrated huff of air. I forgot that part of what I love about Finn is that he calls me out on all of my bullshit. He doesn’t tiptoe around me like some exes did, afraid to make me cry after they found out about the panic attacks. Finn knows I’m a grown woman that can take care of myself, but is also there to take care of me when I need him. “Fine. I am sorry for that. I wasn’t ready to have the conversation. I felt like your actions showed me everything I needed to know.”
“I know. But dating Cassidy, the one person I’d always kind of wondered if I might end up with … that made me realize that you’re the only person for me. Cassidy and I had no chemistry. We were just checking off the ‘What if?’ box so that we could both move forward knowing with one hundred percent certainty that we are meant to be with other people. That I’m meant to be with you. And, Maeve … I really did feel worried that you didn’t want to be with me . It feels like you think you’re the only one who can feel insecure. But I care about you so much. I really did doubt that you felt as strongly for me. Because, Maeve, you are everything .”
I want to just believe him. But it’s not that simple. “Finn, I don’t want to be your second choice. And I know we’re going in circles now, but I can’t help but keep thinking that if you actually loved me you wouldn’t have wanted to be with anyone else. You were cuddling in bed with me five nights a week, we were practically already in a relationship. I felt discarded. And even worse, discarded for someone of your pedigree. Shinier, richer, more famous, more beautiful. Someone that made more sense for you. And you didn’t just go on a date. You dated . You frolicked all over Europe for like two months.” If he’d slept with some random person, that would be easier to accept. But he and Cassidy were the love story of the decade, plastered all over every magazine in town. I’m spiraling and I don’t know if anything he says can pull me back from this abyss of insecurity.
Finn takes a deep breath. “Maeve, Cassidy is not some random date. She is a good friend. Our families are friends. I felt rejected and made a poor choice. I thought, you know, the girl you love doesn’t want you. Maybe you should really try dating the one that got away. And it was easy! We know the same people, live in the same worlds, travel to the same places. It was fun.”
“So why did you break up?” I am trying so hard to actually hear him. To let his words penetrate my own swirling thoughts.
“You! You are why we broke up.” Now my eyes are smarting, but Finn keeps going. “Because Cassidy is great, but she just isn’t you. On the surface we were perfect. And the first month was fun, so I really thought maybe I should lean in, you know? But after the thrill wore off … it was clear to both of us that we were friends, not in love. And I realized I had just given up what might have been my only chance to be with my soulmate. I can only date other people and have them feel halfway right when you’re in the picture. Because all the things that make me tick, make you tick. We challenge each other, and ever since I met you I couldn’t imagine a world without you. I didn’t want to, ever again. Maeve, I love every fucking thing about you. So much. And without you? A piece of me was missing. We are perfect together, and I don’t want another day to go by without getting to say I love you. I love you, Maeve.”
I feel like I’ve stopped breathing. Time has stopped. I don’t know what to say, how to go on. Finn is crying as he speaks, looking at me like I’m the only girl in the world. I hold up the mic. “Finn, I love you too.”