Something to Talk About(33)

“Okay,” Jo said. “I think I can do this.”

“I know you can, boss.”

Emma beamed at her, and Jo couldn’t help but grin. She selected three full pages of text. Pressed delete. Before she could be overwhelmed by the blinking cursor, Jo’s fingers flew across the keyboard, a new idea coalescing. She could’ve kissed Emma for making it so easy on her.

The next day, Emma knocked on Jo’s doorjamb in the afternoon. She held a stack of papers.

“I need more room than my desk to spread these out on,” Emma said. “Can I work in here?”

“Of course.”

Later in the week, they ate lunch together in Jo’s office. Jo wasn’t always committed to feeding herself; she got too involved in her work and forgot. Without Emma, Jo might have starved by now. Emma brought her sushi, and Jo made Emma join her to eat. When they finished, Emma started working on her tablet. Neither of them ever addressed the fact that she stayed working on Jo’s couch until five.

It became habit. Jo invited Emma in or Emma invited herself in or neither of them said anything, Emma just brought her work into Jo’s office. It was easy, and less distracting than it should’ve been. They both got work done, and Emma made sure Jo never skipped lunch. Jo did catch herself looking at Emma occasionally. She was always impressed by the other woman’s focus, her work ethic. It was rare that Emma even noticed Jo’s eyes on her, but if she did, she’d give her that soft smile. Then she’d raise her eyebrows and make Jo get back to work.

Even while they worked so closely, Jo didn’t do much supervising. Emma knew what she was doing, and Jo trusted her. Jo was vaguely aware of what Emma was working on day to day—planning things for when the cast and crew came back, beginning the search for her replacement, learning more about directing—but Emma was independent. So when Jo heard a disgruntled huff from her couch one day, she didn’t know what it was about.

“Problems, Ms. Kaplan?” she asked, not looking away from where she was editing the Agent Silver script.

“This doesn’t have half the stuff I do on it!”

Jo hit save, then looked to Emma.

Normally, Emma’s feet were tucked under her, or sometimes at the other end of the couch, legs stretched long. She almost never sat on the sofa in a normal fashion. Today, though, both her feet were on the floor, her elbows on her knees, brows furrowed at the tablet propped up on the table in front of her. Jo watched until Emma stopped glaring at whatever was on her screen, and made eye contact.

“I got the job description for my position from HR,” Emma said. “I figured I’d tweak it a little and then post it to find my replacement. But this is missing a ton of stuff I do.”

Jo chuckled. “Why do you think you’re being promoted?”

Emma went back to squinting at her tablet.

“This makes it sound like I’m just a secretary.” Emma, being Emma, quickly amended, “Not that there’s anything wrong with being a secretary, but I do more than this.”

Jo was well aware of that.

“Of course you do,” she said. “You could’ve had the associate producer title from day one with the amount of work you took on.”

Emma’s work ethic was why Jo stole her away from Aly in props at the end of the previous season.

“You’re hiring my next assistant,” Jo said, “not my next Emma.”

“Oh.”

Emma’s voice was quiet, underpinned with wonder. Perhaps she hadn’t realized how valuable she was.

Honestly, it was something Jo had been worrying about. As though the move from Innocents to Agent Silver full-time wouldn’t be stressful enough, Jo would be doing it without Emma. She’d have an assistant, of course, but not one who had figured out how she ticked, knew when to interrupt with food, wasn’t afraid to throw sass at her when she got snippy. There was no one else she’d trust to read scenes from her scripts, the way Emma occasionally did, ever since that first day she offered.

Emma was Jo’s cheerleader, but she was never afraid to give Jo a kick in the pants if she needed it. She made Jo better.

“The job description likely only needs to be edited regarding Agent Silver instead of Innocents,” Jo said. “Other than that I’m sure it’s fine.”

Emma’s brow hadn’t unfurrowed.

“Is there some other issue with it?”

“No,” Emma said. She took a breath. “I guess it’s just weird—hiring my replacement.”

Jo had no doubt Emma would hire a capable new assistant. But she wouldn’t be able to replace herself.

“Want to take a break to look at the new opening?” Jo asked.

Emma blinked the concern off her face. She set aside her tablet and reached toward Jo’s computer, opening and closing her hands. “Gimme.”

Jo handed over the laptop. She still had to leave the room when Emma read her writing. She’d grown more comfortable with it, but she wasn’t that comfortable.

She did a lap, refilled her tumbler with cold brew from the fridge in the break room, then returned to her office.

Emma grinned at her.

“I think you’ve got it this time.”

Jo’s jaw dropped. “You do?”

“I do.”

If Jo weren’t more than half a foot shorter than Emma, she’d tug her off the couch, lift her off her feet, and spin her around in a hug. This was the fourth iteration of the opening scene. Emma had altogether dismissed the first—and for good reason. The second hadn’t fared quite so poorly, but Emma pointed out its every weakness as well. The third revision earned a smile, at least. The fourth, apparently, was the charm.