Something to Talk About(4)

“As long as Emma’s comfortable.”

“You’re hopeless,” Victoria said. To Emma, she added, “What size? I’ll go find you heels. Don’t change into a new dress yet.”

“I don’t need to try on another one,” Emma said. “I want this one.”

Victoria nodded. “Shoe size?”

“Nine,” Emma said, and Victoria slipped away.

In her haste to get into the dress, Emma had forgotten to check the price. She found the tag. Twenty-five hundred dollars. Cheap, comparatively. It was still a ridiculous amount of money for her boss to be spending on her. Jo had a ridiculous amount of money, though, and she could do with it as she pleased. Emma had no reason to turn down a fancy dress. She’d already admitted she wanted this one.

“It’s too much,” she said anyway. “For you to buy a dress for me when I’ll only wear it for one night.”

Jo looked up at her. “It’s nothing,” she said. “I’m inviting you, Emma. I’m not going to make you pay to come.”

“Jo, I—” Emma sighed.

She wanted the dress. She wasn’t even that nervous about having to go to the awards anymore. This dress fitting went better than she expected; maybe the awards would, too. But the idea of Jo spending $2,500 on her put this weight in her stomach she didn’t like.

“Do you not want to go?” Jo asked quietly, not quite looking at Emma.

Emma answered with no hesitation, probably out of habit of making things easier for Jo. “No, I do, I just—”

“It’s settled then,” Jo said. “This dress, yes? It’s beautiful.”

Emma nodded, smiling. “Yeah, boss.”



* * *



—

They bought the dress—after Emma snapped a few pictures of herself in the mirrors—plus a pair of heels Emma would have to practice walking in all weekend. It was barely halfway through the afternoon, but Jo directed Chloe, her driver, to drop Emma off at her car in the parking garage.

“Ms. Jones, they’re still shooting. Don’t you want me on set?”

“I think I can survive a few hours,” Jo said. “Especially since I’m monopolizing your Sunday. The suite you booked for me to prep? Come by between ten and eleven. Hair, makeup, jewelry—everything will be taken care of. We’ll have your dress there, so you don’t have to worry about it all weekend.”

Emma hadn’t even thought about getting ready. She chewed on her bottom lip and nodded at Jo.

“I’ve got the Producers Guild Awards tomorrow,” Jo said, though of course Emma already knew that. “I’m not doing the red carpet there, and I thought the SAGs would be more—” She paused. “Fun for you. We’ll be sitting with the cast, of course, so you won’t feel too out of your element.”

Because being dressed in a $2,500 gown with hair, makeup, and jewelry, all paid for by her boss, would apparently be offset because she was sitting by people she knew. Really, the PGAs would be better for Emma, both in relation to networking and in relation to not having to walk on a red carpet. But Jo needed her at the SAGs, so she’d go to the SAGs.

“Sounds good,” Emma said quietly. “I’ll see you then.”

She thanked Chloe and, for the first time in years, drove home while they were still filming.

She texted her sister again, told Avery to come over when she closed the bakery, and to bring Cassius, the snuggliest of Avery’s three rottweilers.



* * *



—

“You know you’re going to make Billie and Roz jealous if you only ask for Cassius,” Avery said as she arrived.

“I’ll take them all to the dog park next weekend to make up for it,” Emma said, petting Cassius before hugging her sister.

Avery gave the best hugs. She always said it was because she was fat and had some cushion to her, and Emma didn’t exactly disagree, but she thought it also had something to do with how much love Avery put into her hugs.

“How was your day?” Emma asked.

“Good,” Avery said. She dropped her keys on the table by the door. “Bakery was busy. Twins have been wild. I’m glad I’m not in charge of them tonight. Are we ordering food?”

“Thai’s on its way,” Emma said.

“From that one place?”

“From that one place.”

“I love you.”

“I know,” Emma said, settling onto her sofa. She patted the seat next to her. “Maybe this means you’ll let me snuggle with Cassius on my couch?”

Avery shook her head. “Cash is literally never going to be allowed on the furniture.”

“He’s literally allowed on it whenever I dogsit,” Emma muttered.

“What?”

“Oh, nothing,” she said with fake nonchalance, laughing when Avery narrowed her eyes.

“Whatever.” Avery plopped herself down next to Emma and took off the bandana she always wore at the bakery. She scrubbed her fingers through her shoulder-length brown hair. “What’s up? Are we still doing the SAGs at my house Sunday? Dylan is under strict instructions that he’s in charge of the kids for the evening.”

Emma laughed nervously. Of course her sister led with that.