Page 20 of Business or Pleasure

We’re still quiet when Joe reappears, chuckling to himself as he slides his phone back into his pocket.

“Sorry about that,” he says, seeming not to notice the shift between Finn and me. He flashes yet another smile, picks up a fry as he turns his attention to me. “We realize this is a big ask, especially with all the travel. We just want to make this book stand out in a crowded market. And if you’re on board, we think it has the best chance at making a splash.”

Finn’s gaze meets mine again, hazel eyes somehow both warm and inscrutable. And then, as though he remembers every word I said last night, he adds: “For both of us.”

chapter

six

Stay with me. Please,” Oliver Huxley says onscreen to the stunning raven-haired girl in his arms. “Just once. Just for tonight.”

Meg Lawson wrenches free of his grasp, the moonlight catching a tear slip down her face as she turns away from him. They’re in a forest, snow falling all around them. “I can’t. I want to, Hux, believe me—it’s all I want. I think about it all the time, you and me falling asleep together. Waking up together. But the full moon... it’s never much cared for what I want.”

“Screw the full moon, Meg!” Hux sounds nearly out of breath. His hair is a mess, glasses askew, snowflakes dotting his charcoal peacoat. “I don’t care if you have fangs and fur tomorrow. I don’t care if you become a dangerous, terrifying beast, and I don’t care if you’re too lost inside yourself to remember who I am.”

She looks back at him, gives him this sad, wistful smile. “But I do,” she says softly.

I glance up from my laptop, where I’ve been reviewing the contract and itinerary. Phoenix and Memphis and Pittsburgh and a dozen cities in between, all places I’ve never been. I had no idea there were this many cons—I knew about Emerald City and San Diego, but there’s at least one happening every weekend in some part of the country.

“Nome,” I say from across the couch with as much respect as I can muster, “I’m starting to think this show is... bad.”

“That’s because you’re watching it all out of order.” She pauses YouTube a split second before a teary-eyed Meg kisses a decade-ago Finn in a video called Mexley Best Moments, 4/10. “This wasn’t until the middle of season three. I know Caleb was the main character or whatever, but Hux and Meg are just... well, they set the bar high for future romance for me. I didn’t want anyone who wasn’t going to attempt to fight an evil supernatural corporation for me.”

“I can’t believe I didn’t know how much you loved it.” I’d been distantly aware that she was into some werewolf show, but maybe our two-year age difference had made me write it off as something childish.

“I guess it was a guilty pleasure back then, but now I’m like, fuck it. I’m Mexley trash, and I’m proud.” She motions back toward the screen. “They dated in real life, too. Finn and Hallie.”

This, I know from my research. Finn said he liked that I didn’t have preconceived notions about his life and work, but I hate the idea of starting this knowing nothing. And, well, there’s no shortage of information about Finnegan Walsh out there, from interviews to gossip to a behind-the-scenes Entertainment Weekly cover shoot he did with a dozen puppies that is unfairly cute.

I’ve learned that he’s thirty-four, originally from Reno, and got his start on a family sitcom called Dad in Training that was canceled halfway through its first season. By that point, he’d already been cast in The Nocturnals. He dated Hallie Hendricks for a couple years, starting in season two and until after the show was off the air. I stared at the photos of the two of them together for a little longer than I’d like to admit, the red-carpet events where they looked almost inhuman in their attractiveness, the paparazzi photos of them at The Coffee Bean or hiking Runyon Canyon. One at a Teen Choice Awards with Hallie wearing a shirt that said Careful, I Bite. Finn wore glasses back then, even on the red carpet, just like the ones he wore on the show.

It’s bizarre, reconciling the gossip blogs with the person I’ve now met in real life. In two very different circumstances.

In the end, my thinking about it lasted only the rest of the weekend. I’m in a professional rut: that much is clear. I might be writing another book without my name on it, but the gig feels different enough to shake things up. Traveling with Finn will be new, unpredictable, out of my comfort zone. Even if I’ve loved being comfortable—or at the very least, I’ve gotten used to it—I need a change. I can’t keep hunching over my laptop, unmoving for hours as I bite out paragraph after exhausting paragraph. Plus, the realist in me couldn’t turn down the money, and the idealist couldn’t stop thinking about what Finn had said. This isn’t what I thought I’d be doing with my career. If he believes we can keep things strictly professional, forget about those cursed minutes in his hotel room, then so do I.

Less than an hour after I told Stella I was in, I was put on an email chain with everyone, and Finn emailed me separately.

Glad to have you on board, Chandler. I think we’ll write an excellent book together.

Best,

Finn

Cordial. Brief. There was a measured, almost passive-aggressive distance in the Best, Finn.

I haven’t told Noemie that Finn was my one-night stand, which feels strange as we watch him kiss Hallie Hendricks over and over and over. Maybe I’m taking to heart what he said on Saturday: I can forget about it if you can. And maybe I don’t want to ruin her image of him, especially now that I know the depths of her adoration.

Because there’s probably an ethical boundary here, and if we crossed it before we even started working together, well...

Noemie crosses her legs on the couch, flicks away a speck of lint from her sweatpants. “You realize we’ve never been apart for this long, right?”

It’s true. In fact, I can count on one hand the number of times we’ve been apart for any significant length of time: the vacation I took with all four of our parents that overlapped with a week of sleepaway camp for her when we were in elementary school, and I refused to let myself have fun because if everyone else was paired up, it seemed unfair that I didn’t have my person. Then there was the summer in college her moms, Aunt Sarah and Aunt Vivi, took her to Europe for two weeks, and though I wanted to go, my internship at Seattle Met magazine felt more important. So I settled for transcribing interviews and gushing over her photos, unsure if what I was feeling was jealousy or loneliness or both.

Again, I feel more than slightly shitty about keeping the truth from her.

“I miss you already,” I say, meaning it. Moving in with her a few years ago didn’t just save my mental health—it’s a comfort I’ve needed more than I’d like to admit. It’s felt, quite literally, like coming home. “And you’ll look after my parents?”

Noemie knows how I worry. “I’ll invite them over for a healthy, low-cholesterol dinner every Sunday night. It will be understated but elegant.”

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