Something to Talk About(83)

Avery clicked her tongue. “Damn, my sister’s smooth.”

Emma giggled and rubbed a hand over her face. She finally picked up a fork and attacked her cinnamon roll. Avery had made it, so of course it was delicious.

“So, yeah,” Emma said. “She kissed me back. And now I can spend the whole day freaking out about it and we’ll see what happens when I go into work tomorrow.”

“You’re not going to text her or anything?” Avery asked.

“No,” Emma said immediately. “What would I even say? No. No. Definitely not.”

“So, that’s a no then.”

“Yeah. No.”

They ate their cinnamon rolls in silence for a bit, Emma’s heart still pounding over the retelling of the kiss.

“Dylan owes me a hundred bucks,” Avery said.

“Hmm?” Emma asked around a bite. She swallowed. “Why?”

“I bet you and Jo would kiss before the end of the year,” Avery said.

Emma frowned. “You bet on when Jo and I would kiss?”

“Yeah. He had a lot more faith in you—thought it’d be over summer hiatus.”

“What?” Emma stared at her. “When did you make this bet?”

“Uh, the day after the SAGs.”

“Avery!”

Her sister just grinned.

“That’s mean,” Emma said.

Avery laughed. “It’s not mean. It was fun and had no effect on you.”

“It’s mean in spirit,” Emma insisted. “Making a bet on when we’re going to kiss just because of some rumors.”

“Oh no, Em, that’s not what it was,” Avery said. “We knew you had a thing for Jo before the SAGs even happened. That just sped it along a bit.”

Emma blinked. The last two bites of her cinnamon roll sat on her plate, long forgotten.

“Avery, I didn’t even know I had a thing for her,” she said. “I’m not sure I did have a thing for her until this summer, maybe.”

“Okay, maybe it wasn’t that you had a thing for her,” Avery hedged. “But you know when you’re watching a show and two characters interact, and you’re like, ‘They’re going to fall in love,’ and it takes three seasons but eventually they do? It was kind of like that.”

Emma went red. “We’re not in love.”

Avery smirked and said nothing. Emma thought her sister probably wasn’t done betting on her love life.



* * *



—

Emma woke up and went for a run before work on Monday morning. She cut a full minute off her usual pace, full of nerves. She showered and spent half an hour trying to make her hair look nice, but not so nice that it seemed unusual. From her closet she picked navy tights and a gray sweaterdress. It was her most comfortable professional outfit, felt like she was snuggled up on her couch but looked like she could run a meeting. If the day didn’t go well, at least she would be cozy.

At the coffee shop, there was a chai latte waiting for her along with Jo’s regular order. Emma didn’t know if that was a good thing or not. Maybe it was an “I’m sorry I’m going to break your heart later today” latte. She told herself she wasn’t going to worry about it, but then she immediately began fretting over how to greet Jo when she came in. Was morning, boss too casual? Should she act like nothing was different? She couldn’t even remember how she usually greeted Jo in the mornings.

When she heard Jo’s footsteps down the hallway, Emma got up, stood next to her desk. She held Jo’s latte and put a real, albeit nervous, smile on her face.





22


    JO


Jo didn’t look at Emma when she handed over her coffee. She couldn’t stand to see the smile fall off Emma’s face, the hope drain from her eyes. Jo closed her office door behind her.

She had no idea what she was going to do about Emma. She had spent yesterday writing forty-seven different text messages and sending none of them. She’d typed declarations of love and curt dismissals and everything in between. When it finally got so bad that she was going to cave and call Evelyn, she got an email from a photographer.

Care to comment? it read, with pictures attached.

Pictures of Emma, bending over on the sidewalk in front of her building, of Jo’s face through the open car window, of their mouths pressing gently together.

Jo had wanted to throw up.

She still wanted to. Took one sip of her coffee and choked on the bitter flavor. She’d throw it away if she didn’t need the caffeine to make it through the day. She opened her laptop and looked at the pictures again.

This was what she had to offer Emma: scrutiny, invasion of privacy, scandal. This was all she’d given Emma for the past eleven months.

Jo let out a shaky breath. She called Evelyn.

Ev picked up on the second ring. Jo barely let her say hello.

“I need you to react as a lawyer right now, not as my best friend,” she said.

Evelyn didn’t hesitate. “Okay,” she said. “Hit me.”

“Emma and I kissed Saturday night,” Jo said, and ignored Evelyn’s intake of breath. “A photographer sent me pictures of it, asking for comment. I need an NDA.”