Something to Talk About(55)
Emma bumped their shoulders again and smiled as she finished her lunch.
* * *
—
Overall, the day went well. Sure, there were a few times when someone mentioned Barry Davis and Emma’s whole body went stiff, and she dealt with looks from the cast and crew that made it clear that even people who hadn’t been present when Jo had yelled at her knew Jo yelled at her, but she didn’t particularly care. Because Jo kept checking on her, brows furrowed with concern. Every time Jo looked at her, Emma’s muscles went loose and warm. When she really thought about it, it wasn’t all that different from how she always felt around Jo. She was just aware of what the feelings were now. God, she could literally never tell her sister. She’d never hear the end of it.
She was so focused on Jo all day, Emma actually forgot she had to tell Avery about what happened with Barry. She was reminded when the first thing Avery did when she arrived at Emma’s apartment was open her arms for a hug. Emma sank into it, let her sister hold her up for a moment. Avery squeezed tight, the bag in her hand heavy against Emma’s back and Cassius waiting patiently at their feet.
“I brought dinner,” Avery said.
Dinner was a loaf of crusty sourdough bread and six different kinds of cheese.
“You didn’t need to bring comfort food, Ave,” Emma laughed.
Her chest was warm, though, at how much her sister wanted to take care of her.
“There’s never not a time for grilled cheese, okay?”
Emma couldn’t disagree.
Avery sneaked concerned glances at Emma as she got to work making dinner. Emma sat on the floor with her back against the back of her couch, let Cassius climb into her lap. She and Avery chatted about the bakery while Avery cut medium-thick slices of bread and slathered one side of each with butter.
“I kind of assume you read something about me and Jo, right?” Emma eased into her story.
“I might’ve,” Avery said. “It didn’t sound good.”
“I know! It’s wonderful,” Emma said, and Avery gave her a quizzical look. “That people think we’re broken up? I hope the story sticks, because then we’ll finally be left alone.”
“Yeah, I get that, but . . .” Avery got a pan heating up on Emma’s stove. “Don’t you not want Jo yelling at you in front of half the show?”
Emma smiled, shrugging one shoulder. “It worked out in the end.”
She scratched Cassius behind the ears and stole some of his strength to explain what happened. She told Avery about yelling at Barry over bad direction and getting cut down by Jo, told her how Jo apologized afterward, for everything. She said nothing about the irony that the tabloids decided they’d broken up at the same time Emma had realized she actually had a crush.
Avery looked dubious. “So the two of you are suddenly okay now?”
“I mean, I guess it is a little sudden, yeah, but—things have gone back to normal so easily,” Emma said. “I look forward to going to work again.”
She didn’t tell Avery about Jo coming out to her. Avery already thought Jo was queer, and Emma wasn’t here to out anyone, not even to her sister, who would never tell anyone, including Dylan, if Emma didn’t want her to. Plus, Emma may have had other reasons to not want to invite discussion of Jo’s dating preferences. Selfish reasons.
Avery piled cheese onto a piece of bread, butter side down, in the now-hot pan. She put another piece of bread on top. She didn’t say anything more as she cooked, letting Emma chatter about things with Jo and how she’d probably be able to come to the twins’ last baseball game tomorrow.
When the sandwiches were ready, Avery took their plates and set up on the couch. Emma poured herself a huge glass of milk, poured her sister a smaller one before joining her in the living room. Cassius came to lie at their feet, but he knew better than to even consider begging.
“So Barry Davis wasn’t the greatest guy in the world like you thought he might be?” Avery asked. She was lighthearted about it, while Emma’s chest tightened in a way she’d gotten used to over the day. “You didn’t fall madly in love with his talent or anything?”
“Please don’t even joke about that,” Emma said, disgusted. “He was very definitely not great, turns out.”
“Not great?”
“Not great,” Emma repeated. She tried for nonchalant, her voice breezy. She took a bite of her sandwich before continuing. “Okay, first of all, this is delicious and I love you.”
Avery tipped her glass of milk at her.
“Anyway,” Emma said, “he kind of acted like since of course I’m sleeping with Jo, I shouldn’t have a problem, like, giving him a hand job, for opportunities. Though honestly I think if I were sleeping with someone for a job, I’d be more than an assistant at this point.”
Avery didn’t laugh at the joke. She stared at Emma, cheese oozing out of the sandwich in her hand and stretching toward the plate below.
“He propositioned you?” she asked.
“Eh, I guess?” Emma waved her hand, acting like he didn’t very explicitly proposition her. It hadn’t been a comment taken out of context. “He was a dick. And he’s definitely not my favorite director anymore.”
“Em,” Avery said.