Something to Talk About(79)
Her chest felt tight. Jo caught her hand across the table, squeezing quickly before letting go.
“Are you okay?”
Emma nodded. “Sure, yeah,” she said. “I’m just going to—I’m going to run to the restroom real quick.”
She consciously moved slowly toward the bathroom, but it still felt like she was fleeing. Her heart pounded in her chest.
It wasn’t a one-person bathroom, so it wasn’t necessarily private. There was no one in the stalls, but Emma couldn’t lock the door like she wanted to. She splashed some water on her cheeks.
She stared at herself in the bathroom mirror.
When people first thought Jo and Emma were together, Emma told herself Jo was probably straight. When she found out Jo knew Avery and had lied to her about it, Emma told herself she was just upset because their relationship was different than she thought it was. When she almost kissed Jo, Emma told herself she got caught up in the moment. When Jo turned her down afterward—not directly, not explicitly, but enough—Emma told herself it didn’t matter. Now here Emma was, her heart racing, terrified at the thought of not seeing Jo every day. Everything she told herself, and now she was hiding in the bathroom while her gay, single boss waited for her at their table. Her gay, single boss who wouldn’t be her boss soon.
This was their last business trip together. There was only a week of work left before Emma wouldn’t be Jo’s assistant anymore. What happened then?
Emma took a deep breath, put some more water on her face. She didn’t know how long she’d been in the bathroom.
When she returned to the table, Jo looked at her with such concern she had to be interested in her. She had to, right?
“Are you okay?” Jo asked. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“I’m not upset,” Emma said.
“I’m sure Marlita will do fine,” Jo said. “She won’t be as good as you, but that’s a given.”
Emma stared at Jo.
“You’re the best assistant I’ve ever had, Emma,” Jo said quietly. “Before that you were the best props PA Aly had ever had. I hope, at some point in the future, you’ll be the best director I’ve ever worked with.”
“Boss,” Emma said, awed. The response was reflexive, but suddenly the word felt like a term of endearment.
Jo never broke eye contact. Emma felt like she should. She didn’t know what to say. It wasn’t just Jo’s belief in her—Jo wanted to work with her whenever she became a director. That would be years from now, could be decades. Jo still imagined they’d be in each other’s lives. Emma didn’t look away.
“All finished here?” The waiter appeared then, shocking them both out of their reverie.
Emma blinked a few times. She looked at the waiter, who didn’t seem to have noticed he’d interrupted anything.
“I am,” Jo said. “Emma?”
“Yeah,” Emma said. “Yes. All finished. Thank you.”
They didn’t speak while Jo paid the check. Out on the sidewalk in the cold, they waited for their car to arrive. Emma’s blood thrummed. Jo stood close enough to touch. Emma watched her own breath fog in the air. She could see Jo looking at her out of the corner of her eye. She told herself she shouldn’t look back—whether because it would give away her feelings or lead to something happening, she wasn’t sure. She looked back anyway.
She looked back, and as soon as she made eye contact, Jo stepped closer, stepped into her space. She was right in front of her, reaching her hands up toward Emma, and Emma couldn’t breathe as they curled around her scarf. They didn’t pull her in, though, just tugged on the scarf itself, adjusted it tighter around Emma’s neck.
“Emma,” Jo said, her voice like she was fighting to get the word out, and Emma wanted to say yes. Whatever came next, yes. But then Jo swallowed, blinked, and she sounded less strangled when she said, “Do you have your inhaler?”
Emma nodded. Jo’s hands were still on her scarf.
“Yeah, boss,” Emma said. “Don’t worry.”
Even if Emma could have breathed, she’d be holding her breath. She didn’t want to do anything to shatter the moment.
Jo looked at her mouth. Emma wanted to lean down, to lean into her. She and Jo had almost kissed more than a month ago, and she’d mostly blocked that out in the time since, but maybe she shouldn’t have. Maybe she was an idiot for it. Maybe she wanted to kiss Jo now as much as she did that day, and maybe she should listen to those emotions for once.
Jo finally dropped her hands as the driver pulled up in their car. Her cheeks were pink, from the cold, probably.
* * *
—
When they arrived at the airport, their flight was supposed to be on time. Security moved quickly, but by the time they were through it, the flight was delayed by an hour. Emma groaned when they saw the delay on the departure screens.
“It’ll be fine,” Jo said. “We can get a drink.”
Emma could use a drink. They were already not set to arrive in LA until past ten. She wasn’t looking forward to getting in later.
Jo took her to the Vin Room. It was fancy enough that Emma was surprised it was in an airport. She and Jo sat across from each other at one end of a long curving table with other diners.