Something to Talk About(80)

“What kind of wine do you like?” Jo asked, looking over the menu Emma swore had hundreds of types.

“Uh, red?” Emma half grimaced. She didn’t know wine well enough to make this decision.

Jo smiled at her and ordered a bottle of something Emma couldn’t pronounce.

There was a silence between them when the waiter left, and it was more awkward than it had been all trip. Emma bounced her leg. She wondered if there was a less convenient time she could’ve picked to learn Jo was single, was—dare Emma even think it?—available. They had to be together for hours more, and Emma wasn’t sure how she was supposed to handle that. Jo was quieter than usual, too, which meant she could tell Emma was uncomfortable. It was all a mess.

Jo let Emma pour her own wine when the bottle came. Emma probably took more than she should’ve, only just remembered to sip instead of gulp.

“I know we just ate,” Jo said. “But do you want to look at the dessert menu?”

“I would love to look at the dessert menu,” Emma said.

Alcohol and dessert—it was how she’d deal with this situation were she at home, so it seemed like a good enough way to deal with it now.

They got a menu and eventually put in orders for tiramisu and strawberry cheesecake. Jo poured them both more wine.

“Are you . . . ,” Jo started quietly. She was looking at the wood of the table. “You were upset, or something, at the restaurant. Are you nervous about your promotion?”

What happened at the restaurant had little to do with her promotion, but maybe if Emma could act normal about it, she could throw Jo off the scent. Plus, she was nervous about the new job.

“A little,” she admitted. “I guess maybe I like my job so much I’m scared to move to something else for fear it won’t be as good.”

Emma felt vulnerable, saying that, but it was better being vulnerable about her career than about her heart.

“You’re going to be fine,” Jo said. “We’ll both be fine. We’re branching out, moving on, and we’ll do okay.”

Emma breathed. It sounded like a promise, and with it, the tension lifted. Emma and Jo drank and talked and ate dessert and Emma felt okay, felt good. She had a brief moment of panic when Jo made a noise of pleasure over her tiramisu, but besides that, she was fine.

They were both done with dessert and the end of the wine was poured when Jo brought up work again.

“You’re going to be a great director,” she said. “Lord knows advancement takes forever. But when you get there, you’ll be great.”

“I don’t know about that,” Emma said.

“I do,” Jo said. “You’re smart, and you’ve got a knack for bringing out the best in people.” Her hand fell to Emma’s on top of the table, and she squeezed it. “You could do anything, and I don’t want you to let doubt or anything else hold you back.”

Drinking might not have been a good idea. Emma wasn’t close to drunk, but her stomach swooped at Jo’s smile. Jo’s hand burned her skin, even after she pulled it away. Maybe drinking with her boss an hour after realizing her feelings for her actually mattered wasn’t the best idea.

“I dropped out of film school,” Emma said. Jo already knew, but there was a part of the story she didn’t. “My boyfriend at the time told me I wasn’t any good. And I don’t think I was. And I’m afraid that’s just going to happen again, when I try to do something other than be your assistant.”

Jo let out a breath. “Your boyfriend saying you weren’t good doesn’t mean you weren’t good. It means he was an asshole.”

Emma couldn’t help but laugh.

“Sometimes things are hard,” Jo said. “Really hard. Sometimes you have to work at them. Sometimes you have to fail first. But that doesn’t mean they’re not worth doing.” She gestured wide enough that Emma pulled her wineglass closer on the table, just in case. “Go for what you want. No matter what anyone says, no matter what anyone thinks. I know you, Emma, and if you put your mind to it, you can do anything.”

Emma grinned. “Good pep talk, boss.”

Jo beamed at her. Emma’s heart did a somersault.

Jo had been in Hollywood for so long, she was probably quite used to modulating her behavior and expressions. Emma didn’t get to see Jo smile like this often, full and wide and without a self-conscious bone in her body. With it directed right at her, Emma couldn’t look away.





21


    EMMA


They found their seats at the gate, though the flight was delayed further, and they still had time before boarding. Emma buzzed a little, pleasantly warm. She slouched in the chair next to Jo. Neither said anything. It seemed they’d finally talked themselves out. Emma people watched while Jo scrolled through her phone.



* * *



—

Emma vaguely registered her name being said, but it was too quiet to pay attention to.

“Emma, wake up.”

Emma turned her head. There was something soft against her cheek.

“We’re boarding soon.” It was Jo who was talking to her, she was pretty sure.

Emma blinked awake, realized she’d been leaning against Jo’s shoulder. She jerked herself into an upright position and rubbed at her mouth. She drooled when she slept sometimes, and if she’d drooled on Jo, she might have to kill herself. There didn’t seem to be any drool on her face, though, and Jo was smiling at her instead of looking disgusted.