Something to Talk About(85)

Jo hadn’t written hers this year yet.

She had written the rest of the cast and crew’s letters weeks ago, but kept Emma’s set aside. It was white with blue sparkling snowflakes on the front. Intra-office mail was delivering the letters today. Emma’s was still on Jo’s desk. Jo opened it, tried not to think too hard.

    Emma, you don’t just make my job easier, you make my life better. I am so grateful to have you in it.



She should have thought harder. Should have made it generic. She imagined Emma’s face if she had just written thanks, and knew every option she had was a bad one.

She held the pen just above the card for a moment, hesitating on her signature. Jo. Not Jo Jones, the looping autograph most people got. Just Jo, small and messy, with a blob of ink at the start of the J.

Emma had meetings all afternoon, coordinating to ensure the set was shut down correctly. Jo waited until it was almost the end of the day before dropping the card on Emma’s desk while she was away. She retreated into her office and closed the door.

Five minutes later, her door flew open. Emma marched in, swung the door shut behind her, catching it right before it slammed and closing it more gently.

She rounded on Jo, her eyes blazing.

“You don’t get to do this,” she said. “You don’t get to not even look at me all day and then drop this on my desk when I’m away from it.” She waved the opened envelope containing her holiday card. “I never took you for a coward, Jo.”

Jo loved Emma for this, for her fire, for her refusal to back down. She loved her and she wanted to be with her and she knew she deserved so much more than Jo could offer. So Jo didn’t tip her hand.

“I’ve been busy,” she said calmly.

“You haven’t done anything but shut yourself in this office all day,” Emma snapped.

“Yes, well, I had some calls to make,” Jo said. “Someone had to take care of the photographer who was outside of your apartment Saturday night.”

The color drained from Emma’s face. “What?”

“He was set to make quite a lot of money for photos of Jo Jones kissing her assistant in front of her apartment building at one in the morning,” Jo said. “It’s been taken care of.”

She fluttered her hand like it was nothing.

“What did you do?” Emma’s voice was wary.

“Oh, for Christ’s sake, Emma, it’s not like I had him killed.” Jo rolled her eyes. “I bought the photos. And the contract he’s signed means if he still has any copies and they show up anywhere, I take basically everything he owns. Including his dog.”

Jo didn’t want his dog, but Evelyn had added a little levity to the NDA.

“How much did you pay for them?” Emma asked.

That wasn’t something Jo would ever tell her.

“You’re asking the wrong questions,” she said instead.

Emma’s brow furrowed. It took her a moment, but she got there.

“Why was a photographer in front of my apartment at one in the morning?”

“There it is,” Jo said.

“Why was a photographer there?”

“I let your friend Phil go earlier this afternoon.”

Jo kept her voice detached. She watched a wave of emotions cross Emma’s face: confusion, understanding, anger. Emma glowered.

“Why does it even matter?” she asked. “It never mattered when people thought I was fucking you for months, but one picture of us kissing and you ignore me for the entire day trying to deal with it?”

Jo gaped at her. Was it possible Emma truly didn’t understand how far over her head Jo was when it came to her? Emma didn’t flinch. Jo pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Are you serious?”

Emma crossed her arms, chin held high. Jo should’ve taken the out, should’ve pretended it was nothing to her—she was just protecting Emma’s reputation. Instead, she snapped.

“Of course it matters now,” she said with more emotion than she’d shown Emma all day. “It didn’t matter when it was a stupid rumor that meant nothing. This means something, okay? It meant something to me, and I don’t think the entire world should see it.”

Her chest heaved. Emma’s arms dropped to her sides.

“It meant something to you?” she asked, voice small.

Jo’s voice was just as small when she replied, “Of course it meant something to me.”

She wasn’t supposed to admit it. She was supposed to send Emma into a new position with nothing holding her back. A clean break.

She took a breath and moved on. “Which is why I gave Phil an excellent severance package, provided he also signed an NDA.”

“Right,” Emma said.

She looked at her feet, scuffing them against the ground. Jo had no idea what was going on in her head. When Emma looked back up, her eyes shone. Jo pressed her lips together.

“I—” Jo stopped. Swallowed. Wished this were easier. “Why . . .”

This time last year, Emma would’ve finished the sentence for her. Would’ve answered the question without it being asked. Even now, if this were about work, Emma would’ve already solved it. Jo knew she couldn’t make Emma be the one to deal with this, though.

“It’s past five,” Jo said, her voice flat. “I’m fine here. You can go home.”