Something to Talk About(43)

“Nice day for a ball game, isn’t it?” Emma asked, flicking her sunglasses down over her eyes.

“It is,” Jo said.

She had no idea what was going on.

Emma knew she’d be here. Did Avery tell her today, or had Emma known for some time? Had Jo been confused about how to tell her for no reason? Emma knew but didn’t think it was important enough to discuss? Jo needed to ask Avery, or even Dylan, who was still in the grass with the dogs.

Jo had been in plenty of awkward situations at work. She could be charming and disarming and win the day. Here, though, she couldn’t figure out how to keep conversation going. She sat silently until Vincent arrived. She saw his smirk when he noticed Emma and prayed he wouldn’t say anything stupid.

“Emma,” Jo said, “this is my brother, Vincent.”

Emma smiled and shook his hand. Was Jo imagining how her movement seemed stiff?

“It’s nice to meet you,” Emma said.

“Likewise,” Vincent said, his smirk fading into a smile. “Surprised my sister let you take the afternoon off. The way she talks about you, you’d think the show would fall apart without you there.”

Jo could have hugged him.

“I’m quite sure that’s not true,” Emma said.

Jo shifted on the bleacher. Emma glanced down the first baseline.

“Anyway,” she said, “now that Dylan has been the one who had to pick up the dog poop, I’ll go take those pups off his hands.”

Emma was gone before Vincent even sat down. Jo should’ve stopped her. Should have gone after her. Should have told her it was true, not only that she talked Emma up to her brother, but that the show wouldn’t be half as good without her. Jo had told her once, back at the wrap party that seemed so long ago now. They’d had that ridiculous drunken kiss and upfronts and asthma and a summer of getting closer since then, and still Jo felt like she’d never been further away from her assistant.

“How did it take you this long to let her come to a game, Jo?” Vincent said. “Honestly.”

Jo shrugged, looking at Avery. Her brother let the topic drop, thankfully.

“I told her when you invested,” Avery said out of the corner of her mouth. “It felt like too much not to.”

“Right,” Jo said.

The timing of Emma’s melancholy made sense now. Or—it didn’t make sense, really, but Jo had context. It didn’t make sense, because why would Emma be sad that Jo invested in Floured Up? Jo’s investment was because Avery’s bakery was doing well, and her money allowed it to do even better. Emma should be happy about that.

“She won’t talk to me about it,” Avery said, an undercurrent of pain in her voice.

Jo still needed to apologize to Emma for snapping at her the previous day. Perhaps it would be a good opening to a larger conversation. Not that Jo felt the need to apologize for not telling Emma about investing in the bakery, but if they could discuss it, Emma might be able to understand her perspective. They could move on.

Jo only lasted half an inning before excusing herself. Emma had taken the dogs toward the outfield along the first baseline. Jo climbed down the bleachers and headed toward her. It looked, for a moment, like Emma might flee, but two of the dogs were lying down, and they anchored her to the spot.

“Hi,” Jo said, still a few yards away.

“Hi.” Emma barely opened her mouth to say it. She didn’t take her eyes off the field.

“I’m sorry for snapping at you yesterday,” Jo said. “I know now you were just being conscious of the rumors. I didn’t understand at the time, but I do now.”

“Great,” Emma said, and nothing more.

So much for opening up a conversation.

Emma couldn’t be this mad at her. For what—not saying anything about the baseball games? Why was that Jo’s responsibility? She was Emma’s boss, not her friend, and certainly not her sister, who also had said nothing. And when it came to investing in the bakery, that was a business decision—Emma didn’t need to know what Jo did with her money. Not to mention that Emma should be happy about that particular investment.

When Jo was in the wrong, she apologized. The practice had helped her throughout her career. Admit when you were wrong, apologize, do better. But Jo shouldn’t need to apologize for supporting Emma’s sister.

Jo had been the one who felt uncomfortable, though, texting Emma that she’d be late the morning she went to Floured Up. Even then, she’d felt like she should tell Emma. And now it was clear that she’d hurt her. She wished she hadn’t.

But that didn’t mean her behavior necessarily warranted an apology.

The argument sounded weak, even in her head.

In silence, they watched two batters ground out.

“I—” Jo started. She didn’t know what to say. “Do you have your inhaler? It’s fairly dusty.”

“Yep,” Emma said.

Jo felt so small, in sneakers instead of heels. Emma seemed towering, shoulders back, head high.

“You should come to the last game,” Jo said. “If you’d like.”

Emma scoffed. There, perhaps, her frustration was justified. Had Jo told her sooner, Emma could have come to support her niece and nephew the whole season long.

Jo wanted to stay, wanted to explain. But she didn’t have an explanation, and she tried to convince herself she didn’t need one anyway. Emma never looked at her again. Finally, Jo headed back toward the bleachers.