Page 61 of Director's Cut

“Oh.”

It occurs to me for the first time that, assuming we get through the yet-to-be-discussed Oscar situation, I could bring Maeve to GR2’s set. As my girlfriend. And then she’d have to watch me slam another girl against a wall and mouth-fuck her, since we can’t show the gays fuck-fucking.

Which maybe isn’t actually fun to watch. Another part of the Hollywood thing Maeve might bristle at.

“Trust me, it’s not sexy as an actor,” I say. “They keep the room super cold and, despite the crew’s best efforts, you’re mostly just standing there hoping the men on set aren’t staring at your pasty-covered nipples,” I say. “Not to mention your lips start to hurt after about three takes, and you usually have to do more like fifteen.”

I notice that Maeve still has a dent between her brows.

“Besides, Phoebe Wittmore is straight.”

I lean into Maeve, teasingly close. My heart flutters as I look at her lips. “I’d never get to kiss her the way I get to kiss you. You’ll be what I’m thinking of the whole time.”

Butterflies flap up a storm inside me. I lean into Maeve and plant a firm kiss on her lips. “I can’t do this with her.” Then I barely brush my lips against hers, which leaves my own tingling. “Or that.” I shrug. “You can’t even use tongue on-screen unless you practically stick your tongue out into their mouth.”

Maeve sets her laptop aside and, taking a firm grip of my waist, pulls me on top of her. Her worry has seemingly melted away. My muscles twitch under her touch.

“Oh? How do you like it with me?” she purrs.

I dip in for the kiss at the exact moment my phone goes off on the nightstand. I look to Maeve—Can I take this?—and she nods. It’s Gwyn. I put it on speaker.

“Morning, sunshine,” I say.

“Morning, Val,” she says, in a very not-sunshine manner. “Hey, are you with Maeve?”

I raise a brow at Maeve. She smiles, a little red in the cheeks.

“Hey, Gwyn,” Maeve says.

Maeve’s been around long enough to have had a couple of quick conversations with Gwyn when she calls me, but they haven’t met yet. In fact, no one in my family has met Maeve yet. Besides Charlie, Luna, and Mason, the only person who even knows we’re dating is Ty.

“So my kids are having their fourth birthday this upcoming weekend, and I was wondering if you wanted to come?” Gwyn asks. “I figure if you’re still with my sister by now, it must be serious.”

Maeve’s blushing even harder now. “Yeah.” She pulls some hair behind her ear, but it falls forward again. I tuck it back for her, our hands brushing against each other. “Is there a theme or anything?”

Gwyn laughs. “No, it’s just a dinner with our parents. Val will get a present, so don’t worry about that.”

I shake my head. “Hey, bitch, am I even invited?”

Gwyn sighs. “Oh my god, no, you’re not. Don’t you dare come.”

Maeve stifles a laugh. My chest’s fluttering. “Do they still love Frozen?”

“Dinosaurs now. I’ll send you a text with the info.”

Maeve’s going to my niblings’ birthday party in less than a week. I’ve never introduced anyone I’ve dated, not even my ex-fiancée, to my family. Two seconds after hanging up the phone, and my heart’s already pounding. Maeve is going to meet my parents. Maeve is going to meet my parents, and I haven’t told her about the film festivals. We’re going to start the semester next week, and I haven’t talked to her about the film festivals.

Maeve grabs my hand. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m great with parents.”

I look away. “No, I don’t think— You’re not what I’m worried about.”

My stomach twists. I just need to tell Maeve. Even if there’s no good way to transition to the topic. She can’t meet my parents without knowing about my obligations for Oakley and how they could affect her. If she’d leave me over this like Emily would’ve, at least it can all happen before everyone knows and I get humiliated all over again.

Maeve’s soft expression fades. She drops her hand from mine, scooting so she’s fully sitting up. “Can we talk?”

I know there’s no way anyone told her, but the thought lodges in my mind. Maybe it was Trish. Or Trish’s assistant. Or Charlie, even though he swore he wouldn’t tell her before I did. Maybe she saw a flash of the Oakley in Flames group chat with Luna and Romy where we were talking about festivals.

I haven’t spoken yet. “Yeah. What’s up?”

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