Page 87 of The Pleasure of Panic

“I’m not,” I say quickly. “I’m not.”

“Then what’s this about?”

“I just… it feels a little like quitting to leave all those women behind. I mean, I know the online course is good. I’ve been building it for a while now, preparing for this day. I have a shell company to keep it anonymous, I have the website all ready, I have like almost a hundred videos for them to watch. And it’s all free, so…”

“Are you worried about money?”

“No,” I say, frustrated that when I need the right words, I can’t find them. I’m a goddamned award-winning speaker who gets paid to find the right words and now they’re failing me. “I actually made a ton of money off the book. So I have that in savings overseas. And that last masterclass got me into a solid six figures for this year already and it’s only February. So it’s not the money.”

“Then…?”

“I just feel kinda like a quitter.”

“Well, we can always tell the world what kind of man Caleb Kelly really is. You have a lot of information, Issy. And so do I. We could bring him down. Maybe alone it would’ve been a tough sell, but together?”

“But you’re one of them, Finn. How could the world trust you? Caleb and his people will drag your name through the mud. Turn you into a joke. And the FBI won’t help, not when they find out why you really joined.”

“I think they’ll come around once they find out what we know.”

“Will they?” I ask. “Knowledge is a strange thing. You can know something. Something wonderful. Something meaningful. Something true. And even then, oftentimes it changes nothing. You could know the secrets of the universe, but what do you do with that knowledge? And what good is knowledge anyway? What good is truth that isn’t accepted? What good is a secret you can do nothing with?”

“Well, that’s just it, isn’t it? We can do something with our secrets.”

“I don’t think so, Finn. I think the world already knows our secrets. Some place, deep down, they know these things already. Maybe not the specifics, but they know bad people are out there. They know there’s corruption. They know all this, and they don’t want to think about it. They don’t have time to care. Because caring means they have to reevaluate their priorities. Their worldview. Caring means they have to change.”

He looks over at me as he turns into the alley behind my work. Pulling up next to my car. The only car in the parking lot since Suzanne won’t be back and no one is coming in for a consultation today. We get out of his car, get into mine—he drives. And pull back out into the street to head over to my place.

“Are we talking about them? Or you, Issy?”

Some people might take that as an accusation. Some people might be offended. Some people might even get angry.

But it’s an honest question.

Those were the words I was looking for and couldn’t find.

“Why am I doing this?”

“Leaving?” he asks.

“No… why did I start this business in the first place?”

“Oh,” he says, surprised at the change of subject.

But was it really a change of subject? Haven’t I been talking about this the entire time?

“To help people, of course. I mean, you can’t be doing it for the money. Otherwise you’d be charging for that online course.”

“I’m not doing it for the money,” I say.

“I know. So why don’t you tell me why you’re doing it? Because you’re the only one who knows.”

“I’m doing it because I care about them,” I say. “I want them to feel cared for when they’re with me. I want them to feel that because I never did.”

He leans across the center console, places a hand on my cheek, kisses me on the lips, and whispers, “Yeah, it’s official.”

Which makes me laugh. “What are you talking about?”

“I love you.”