Something to Talk About(74)

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Jo didn’t like to make a big deal of her birthday. Evelyn was right about why; it never felt like people were making a big deal for her, so much as because she was a celebrity, they thought they were supposed to. She didn’t need to be the center of attention any more than she’d already been for most of her life.

Last year, a cupcake had appeared on her desk when she wasn’t in her office. She knew it was Emma, of course, even if she hadn’t seen her actually do it. A cupcake appeared, and at the end of the day, Emma had quietly wished her a happy birthday. That was all Emma did, and Jo liked it. It felt like she did it for her, her specifically, not just because that was something you did on someone’s birthday, but because she wanted Jo to feel special on her birthday. Jo appreciated it.

This year, even after the almost kiss, even after all of the awkwardness between them, there was still a cupcake on her desk when she came back from a meeting. It was huge, as it was last year. Dark cake and a tower of white frosting with crushed red-and-white mints on top. From the smell, Jo guessed it was a cupcake version of a peppermint mocha. She immediately unwrapped it. It was so big she had to find a plastic fork in her desk to eat it; otherwise she’d end up with frosting all over her face.

Jo savored that first bite. The mint was sharp and the cake was deep and rich and delicious. Emma was too good to her. Too good for her. Emma was smart and kind, and sometimes it seemed like she worked even harder than Jo. Jo ate the cupcake Emma bought her, and inexplicably felt like crying.

That evening, after Jo told Emma she could go home, Emma hovered in her doorway for a moment.

“Happy birthday, boss,” she said quietly.

Jo wanted to tell her she loved her. Wanted to tell her she was sorry for everything.

In the end, all Jo said was, “Thank you, Emma.”





19


    EMMA


Emma had narrowed down the pool of candidates for Jo’s next assistant to four. It was weird, picking her own replacement. Weirder still doing it in the wake of . . . everything.

Of realizing she had a crush on Jo and then almost kissing her and then imagining how things could work, only to have Jo invite her girlfriend out for a week. Jo and Evelyn had gone out to dinner with Sam, Jo’s former coworker, and the tabloids might have taken it as confirmation of Jo and Sam’s relationship, but Emma knew better. She knew those weren’t the two dating at that dinner.

Of course Jo had a girlfriend. Why wouldn’t she? She was gorgeous and successful, funny and kind. All the reasons Emma was interested in her were all the reasons she obviously already had a girlfriend. It made sense, even if it hurt.

Emma wished Jo would’ve just said she wasn’t interested in her. Instead, Jo had her girlfriend visit like she was pointing out she was off-limits without having to have the conversation with Emma. What was worse was how Jo offered to promote her early—like Jo wanted to put distance between them, like she no longer trusted Emma to be professional.

But whatever. Emma was being professional. Things between her and Jo were fine—normal, almost. Emma was hiring her replacement.

All of the candidates she found were qualified. Any of them would probably do fine. But she wanted better than fine. Jo deserved better than fine. If Emma hired the perfect assistant for Jo, it would prove this stupid crush didn’t affect any of her work. Her palms sweat every time she looked over the candidates’ résumés.

The only interview Emma had left was Phil. She was surprised he’d applied. He’d been on the show a year longer than she had and had never switched departments or, really, shown any desire to advance. When she was on props with him, he was the jokester. They’d gotten along because he made her laugh, but he was always more likely to go for a joke than to volunteer for extra work. Jo could use someone laid-back, though, so Emma set up an interview.

Phil grinned as he shook her hand.

“Let’s get this over with so I can get my promotion,” he said.

Emma bristled. “Phil, I’ve interviewed three other really strong candidates. This isn’t a formality. You don’t automatically have the job just because we’re friends.”

“Of course I shouldn’t have the job because we’re friends,” Phil said. “But you know I’d be great at it.”

“And why is that?” Emma tried to pivot to a serious interviewer tone. She sat at the conference table and gestured for Phil to sit across from her. “What do you think you’d bring to the job?”

“Emma, it’s just an assistant position. I think I can handle it.”

Emma raised her eyebrows. “You think my job has been easy the past year and a half?”

“No, of course not,” Phil backtracked. “It’s just not like you’re guarding nuclear launch codes.”

Emma chuckled along with him, but seethed inside. People always acted like being someone’s assistant wasn’t hard, like it was all ordering lunch and picking up dry cleaning. Phil should’ve known better. Emma folded her hands on the table in front of her.

“How would you deal with the more difficult aspects of the job?”

Phil must have recognized the frustration in her voice—he seemed to flip a switch, taking everything more seriously. It ended up being a pretty good interview. Emma was going to have a hard decision ahead of her. After, they slipped back into their roles as friends, chatted about nothing important—Emma and Jo’s upcoming trip to Calgary and what Phil was doing over the winter break.