Something to Talk About(72)

Jo was forty-one years old and there were tears in her eyes over a girl. It was embarrassing.

She deflected.

“In love was strong language,” Jo said, referencing her text from the previous day. “An overreaction.”

Evelyn cocked an eyebrow at her.

“I can’t love her,” Jo argued. “I don’t even know her outside of work.”

“Oh right, I’m sure she’s a vastly different person than the one you’ve gotten to know over the past year,” Evelyn said. “The one who worked in your office all summer, who goes on business trips with you, who—what was it? Gets you through every day?”

Is the only reason I survive most days was what Jo had actually said to her father, but she didn’t think Evelyn really needed correcting.

Jo was fighting herself on this. Loving Emma seemed like too much, seemed too ridiculous. How could she love her and not realize it until they almost kissed?

“Maybe the rumors have twisted my thoughts,” Jo suggested.

Evelyn scoffed at her. “Jo, those rumors are long over—you’re the one who keeps this picture in your desk. This isn’t about how people think you feel about her. This is about how you do feel about her. I’m not saying you do or do not love her. But don’t talk yourself out of it if it’s how you feel.”

Jo made a face but held back from grumbling under her breath like she wanted to.

“I’m in the process of creating a safe space for women in this industry who are harassed, and I almost kissed my assistant,” she said. “What kind of hypocrite—”

“Okay, but you didn’t kiss your assistant,” Evelyn cut in. “And you won’t, even if she obviously wants you to, because when you aren’t under the stress of your asshole father visiting, you wouldn’t. You wouldn’t kiss your assistant. You wouldn’t base any professional or employment decisions on whether or not she kissed you. You’re not harassing her. You’re not abusing her.”

Jo knew that, rationally. Knew all of that. But her feelings for Emma felt wrong, and she didn’t know how to fix that.

“C’mon, Jo,” Evelyn said. “Let’s go order takeout and maybe get you drunk.”

“I don’t need to be drunk two nights this week, and I was already drunk Tuesday.”

“Yes, I remember,” Evelyn said, and Jo rolled her eyes.

They didn’t get drunk, in the end. They ordered takeout from the restaurant they’d gone to since they were children growing up together in Chinatown and ate it on the floor of Jo’s living room.

Evelyn talked mostly. Told Jo about New York and her firm and how her parents were doing. Jo sat cross-legged and ate rice noodles and smiled a lot.

They were on to the fortune cookies by the time Evelyn brought Emma back up.

“You have to figure out what you’re doing about it,” Ev said. “Because I did not fly out here to spend six days with you moping about it. I am definitely teasing you about it, and that’s only fun if it annoys you, not if it depresses you.”

“It doesn’t depress me,” Jo said. “But there’s nothing to figure out. I’m going to move to Agent Silver soon enough. Emma will be associate producer and I’ll be working elsewhere and I’ll move on. It won’t be an issue.”

“Good idea,” Evelyn said. “Promote her and then work elsewhere and then ask her out, you idiot.”

Jo rolled her eyes. “I’m not going to ask her out.”

“Fine, whatever,” Evelyn said. “But you at least won’t be sad when I tease you about it?”

Jo would’ve liked to promise that. She’d have loved to not feel bad about the way Emma made her heart race. She didn’t think she could guarantee it, though.

“I’ll try,” she said.



* * *



—

    The next morning, Emma smiled when she offered Jo her coffee.

“Is Evelyn not joining us today?”

“She’ll be by sometime this afternoon,” Jo said. She told herself she imagined the way Emma’s smile wobbled.

Evelyn may have flown across the country for Jo, but she had other people to visit while she was here. Not to mention that Jo had work to do; she didn’t need Evelyn in her office bothering her all day.

Jo considered inviting Emma in, instead. Extending some kind of olive branch to make sure they were okay. But she didn’t want it to be misconstrued. She left her door open, though, just in case.



* * *



—

“We’re going out tonight.” Evelyn breezed into Jo’s office that afternoon.

Jo didn’t look up from her work. “Are we?”

“Of course,” Evelyn said. “Early birthday celebration.”

Jo finished the paragraph she was reading before turning to Evelyn.

“I hate celebrating my birthday.”

“You hate celebrating it with your family,” Evelyn corrected. “You hate celebrating it publicly, with people who only care it’s your birthday because you’re a celebrity. Good thing you’ve got your best friend here to celebrate with instead.”

Evelyn wasn’t wrong, no matter how much Jo would like to say she was.