Page 93 of Director's Cut
I can’t believe Maeve jumped on that plane thinking she was even this much a part of the problem with that fight. Still, there’s the strangest sense of relief that she didn’t go through with talking to me earlier. I don’t know what would’ve happened if Rosalie and I hadn’t finally breeched the medication conversation. Hell, I might’ve been a wreck tonight if Maeve hadn’t waited.
The strangest smile spreads across my face as I run my thumb over her knuckles. “You don’t have to apologize for reading the room. Truthfully, I think we needed all that space.” Maeve looks up at me, her gaze soft if not a bit confused. I continue. “I wasn’t listening to you. The truth is, Emily would’ve been so pissed at me for what I did to you. She would’ve broken up with me right then and there. I hadn’t escaped my trauma enough to be in the moment and process your reaction, listen to your needs, work to fix the issue in front of us. But I think if we had that same fight now it’d be different. I’m ready to be with you. To try again and see each other as we are now.”
Silence fills the tiny space between us. Too long, her expression unreadable as she processes. I let go of her hand out of necessity, yanking a couple of scratchy brown napkins out of the butter station and crumbling them in my hands as I wait for Maeve to say something, to move.
She smiles and hands me the flowers. “Then let’s try again. If you’ll have me.”
I’m not used to having someone who would go through this effort to lie down and admit she was wrong even in a small way. It’s so far removed from anything I could’ve imagined Emily doing. Fights used to make me feel unsteady, but right now I feel rock-solid in my resolve. We’ll do better by each other next time. And I’ll stop blaming Maeve for Emily’s mistakes.
“You really want to?” I ask.
My heart explodes in a million colored pieces as she pulls me into a hug. “Yes,” she says, a whisper caressing my skin. “A million times yes.”
She squeezes me tight; droplets of wetness fall onto my shoulder. She mumbles into me, but I can’t hear her. “What’s that, love?” I ask. A jolt of embarrassment passes through me, but then I remember. I can call her that again. I intend to call her that for a long, long time.
“Can I kiss you here?” she asks.
My heart leaps like I’m a teenager again. “Yes.”
We kiss. We share a single, tender kiss that makes me want to reach out to that devastated teenager, that devastated adult, that little kid who never quite fit in and tell them that everything is going to be okay. That everything is going to be great.
“Is that Maeve Arko?” Charlie asks.
I bolt away from Maeve. I don’t quite love her enough to be obnoxious.
Charlie’s grinning.
In fact, Charlie, Mason, Romy, Luna, and my family are grinning.
“Whatever are you doing in Cannes?” Charlie continues, rocking on his heels. “I’m so glad you coincidentally made it out to France and coincidentally took my fleuriste recommendation.”
I look around at my parents, at Gwyn and Dave, at Luna and Romy and Wyatt, and at Charlie as he and Maeve hug hello.
“Charlie, did you know about this?” I demand, my voice cracking.
Charlie puts his arm around Maeve. “I like her a lot. Wasn’t gonna let you two give up on that.”
Mason even throws in a smile. “Yeah, if Val gets dumped, it can only be in a slapstick misunderstanding, we-leaked-a-fake-cheating-scandal-to-the-tabloids-for-fun-and-someone-believed-it way.”
I realize, in the moment that Maeve turns to Mason and her eyes go wide, that I…might have not introduced them before. I laugh. “Maeve, this is Mason Wu. She directed Goodbye, Richard!”
Maeve just keeps staring at Mason with that dumb expression. Nearly eight months knowing her and I’ve never seen her with this little control and dignity. She looks so human. “You know, you kept mentioning a Mason, and I knew you meant a director, but it’s hitting me that you meant, like, the Mason Wu, who trail-blazed twenty-first-century queer indie cinema.”
Mason points to Maeve. “And you’re the girl Val abandoned me for at the Oscars to go properly bottom for the first time!” Mason, always the maverick torturing me in front of my parents, has done it again. Luna’s buried herself into Romy’s shoulder as my parents and Gwyn exchange a God, Mason look. And Maeve, newest member of the party, goes bright red. Bright red, but still dumbfounded, still in utter awe to be in Mason’s presence.
“Come in for a hug, my dude,” Mason says to Maeve.
Mason envelopes a board-stiff Maeve in an embrace.
“Mason Wu knows about my sex life,” Maeve not-so-quietly whispers to me.
“Welcome to the club,” Luna mutters, just low enough that only Romy laughs.
Gwyn and Charlie, of all people, exchange looks. Charlie puts a hand on Mason’s shoulder.
“Well, we’ll leave you two to go catch up before the after-party tonight,” Charlie says. He shoots Gwyn and my parents a glance. “I believe the Sullivans invited me out to L’Affable to celebrate my movie premiering at Cannes.”
I can’t help but notice him wink as they walk off.