Page 65 of Director's Cut

“That’s…very public,” Maeve says. “It’s not that I don’t want to go, but I’d— They’d write articles, right? Use my name?”

All concerns I should’ve considered before agreeing to get her to go. The pressure only increases. “Only if you wanted. There’s a different red carpet normal people go down if they don’t want to be on the main one with the celebs. The cameras will focus on me.” I pry a hand off the wheel to rub the back of my neck. “My manager would love for you to go down the red carpet with me, but it’s totally optional.”

Maeve sighs. “I…don’t know how that’d look with us working together. Is this something you want, or is your manager pushing it?”

“My manager.” I say it quickly, even though I’m feeling a twinge of hurt at her answer.

“Well, look, I’ll ask around the department about optics. But you can always tell your manager I agreed to go and then got sick the night of, right? I don’t want her to keep bugging you waiting for me.”

“Yeah, for sure.”

My fingers twitch to text Mason, to fess up and then ask how big the fallout with Leonard would really be if Maeve and I didn’t go extremely public. Trish and I could weather the blow. And hey, maybe Maeve will even come around and eventually say yes. In the scheme of things, mine aren’t the worst headaches Trish’s clients have given her. But I’m still on edge as we drive home.

If this is how Maeve reacts to one night out with me as a celebrity, is there any hope for she’ll be understanding when she finds out I might have to go to festivals? What happens when she sees that I won’t, can’t choose her over my career if I have to be at a festival on the date of her observation class? My not having Maeve at the Oscars is a blow to what’s left of my professional reputation, but my not being there for Maeve during the most important class of her career could make her lose that grant. The thing she said about seeing me as her intellectual match rings in my head. She said she really liked me, but are there caveats to that? Would she join me in future appearances, stuff I’m genuinely proud of, like Mason’s indie or any future Goodbye, Richard! films? Maybe even join me late if Oakley gets into a festival, come to a future premiere? I’ve never had to think about bringing a significant other around these flashbulbs of joy in my career. Thinking of Maeve not being there stings.

My knuckles go white on the steering wheel as I drive us back to Hollywood Hills.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

I don’t think I’ve been this nervous to see the twins since they were born.

Which—fine, it’s not really the twins. In fact, Oz and Lily are probably the ones who are going to warm up to Maeve the fastest. They’re supposed to be the focus tonight, but I can’t get the others out of my head. I also can’t even get the fact that Maeve hasn’t given me a definite reply about going to the Oscars yet out of my head, which isn’t helping things.

But just like we’d talked about, when Maeve arrives at my place to head over to the party, she’s ready to go. And even though I’d been planning to ask her if she’d made a decision about the Oscars the moment she got into my car, the time I spend prying my jaw off the car floor admiring her hot-but-family-appropriate black dress gives Maeve an opening, and she starts asking about my family before I can bring it up. And once someone gets me talking about the time back in middle school that I was fully convinced my dad was a serial killer because he was a dentist and I’d watched Little Shop one too many times, there’s no getting me off the subject. Maeve’s laugh is liquid gold, so it’s not like I’m going to risk losing that to talk about the Oscars.

Not yet, anyway.

“I’m gonna say the presents are from both of us so they’ll like you,” I say as I steady the twins’ rather large gifts in my arms.

Maeve shakes her head as she rings the doorbell of Gwyn’s bougie Pasadena home. It has beautiful LA views, and, in fact, we once determined that she looked so far into the city that she could see Hollywood Hills. It’s not quite as modern flashy as my house, but Maeve’s getting a good idea of how far the wealth extends in my family. I can only hope it isn’t deterring her.

“You have so little faith in my ability to win kids over,” Maeve says.

“Well, from a four-year-old’s perspective, you are the most boring person ever. You don’t even get my SpongeBob references.”

“My parents were no-TV parents, I’m sorry.”

It’s around then that Gwyn answers the door, standing eye level with me thanks to her at least four-inch heels and my slip-on sneakers. Gwyn’s brown eyes light up as she makes eye contact with Maeve.

“Thank you so much for coming,” she says, flashing the sparkly white teeth she gets through being a responsible teeth owner rather than incessant badgering from her publicity team. “I feel like I’m meeting a legend at this point.”

Maeve blushes, tucking a hair that isn’t out of place behind her ear. “That’s a gross overestimation of my impact on the larger world, but thank you.”

I love that she starts using bigger words and more complicated phrases when she’s nervous.

“Well, I’m thrilled you’re here.” Gwyn looks to me and grins. “I haven’t seen Val smile like this in quite a while.” She pats my back as we walk in, leaning in to whisper in my ear: “She’s cute.”

I fiddle with my jacket sleeve. “I showed you her photo last week.”

But before Gwyn can justify her sudden crush on my girlfriend, Oz and Lily, dressed in adorable color-coordinated overalls, squeal as they rush into the room.

“Aunt Val!” they say in near perfect unison, grinning ear to ear.

The little monsters straight up jump onto me, forcing me to drop their presents in order to catch the two of them. Thank god for the minimal training Charlie and I have been doing, because they’re starting to get a little heavy. But I nuzzle them into me and spin them around.

“Happy birthday to my favorite people on the planet!” I say through my own dopey grin. “How old are my peanuts?”

Lily says, “Four!” as Oz shoves four fingers into my face.

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