Something to Talk About(87)

“One sec, my neighbor’s here,” Emma said as she grabbed Raegan’s spare key off the hook she kept it on and pulled her door open.

It wasn’t Raegan.

It was Jo.

“Hi,” Jo said, a coffee cup in each hand, shoulders curled in on herself.

“Avery, I gotta go,” Emma said. She ended the call. Swallowed. “Hi.”

“Chai,” Jo said, thrusting one of the drinks toward her. “If you want.”

Emma wanted to be mad. She wanted to ignore Jo the way Jo had ignored her all day.

She took the chai instead.

“Do you want to—”

“Can I—”

They both started, stopped. Jo laughed nervously.

Emma looked down the hallway like there would be paparazzi inside her apartment building.

“Come in,” she said then, taking a step back and pulling the door open wider.

“Thank you,” Jo said.

She only came far enough inside for Emma to close the door behind her. Emma had no idea what she was doing here. She was so used to making things easier for Jo, she almost wanted to start the conversation herself. But she deserved better than that. Better than Jo ignoring her all day, then randomly showing up at her apartment with nothing to say.

“I haven’t stopped—since Saturday night—all I can think about—” Jo started three different sentences and didn’t finish a single one.

“Come,” Emma said. “Sit down.”

She led Jo to the kitchen island, and they sat on stools next to each other. Emma took a sip of her drink, then set it down. She swirled liquid around instead of looking at Jo.

“This is a terrible idea,” Jo said.

Emma’s heart did a swan dive. She thought if Jo was here, it meant—she’d been moping since she handed Jo her coffee this morning, and she thought Jo being here was going to change that, but—

“I kept telling myself all the reasons it’s a bad idea,” Jo said. “Since Saturday. Since my dad visited. You’re too young and I’m too old and I don’t even have any idea how to be in a relationship and you work for me and, and, and.”

“Right,” Emma said. She hopped off her stool. She had to get Jo out of her apartment before she cried. She took three steps toward the door. “Well, thanks for the chai. I’ll see you—”

“Emma.”

Jo caught her by the wrist, slid off her stool, and came to stand in front of her.

“Can I kiss you again?”

“Wh-what?”

Emma’s eyes bounced from Jo’s gaze to her lips to her eyes again. Her breath hiccupped and she didn’t have any words, but she nodded, so suddenly that she might’ve pulled a muscle, and then Jo was kissing her. Jo was kissing her and it was just like last time in how soft and perfect it was, but it was also nothing like last time, because Jo put her hands on Emma’s hips, held on when Emma’s knees went weak.

When Jo pulled away, she didn’t go far. They were still close enough to breathe each other’s air.

“So you don’t hate me for kissing you?” Emma said.

Jo chuckled, bumping her nose against Emma’s. “Not much chance of that, no.”

She kissed her again.

This kiss was longer, deeper. Jo’s tongue brushed Emma’s, and asthma really was the best metaphor for their relationship—Emma wasn’t sure she was ever going to be able to breathe normally again. Her arms were draped over Jo’s shoulders. Even still in her heels from work, Jo was shorter than Emma.

“Do you . . . we could order food or something?” Emma said.

Jo looked like she was going to say yes, like she was saying yes to the or something, the way she had to drag her eyes from Emma’s lips.

“I shouldn’t stay,” she said instead. “This is a bad idea, you know? We have to do everything right with how we frame it, or it’s going to be a disaster. It’s probably going to be a disaster anyway, coming after the rumors.”

“Hey,” Emma said. She dropped a hand down to catch one of Jo’s. “We’re not going to be a disaster.”

Jo smiled up at her, all soft and beautiful. “No,” she said. “We’re not.”

God, it was surreal. To be holding Jo and talking like this, like they were a we.

Jo did stay, for a while. They sat next to each other on the couch and talked about things, their drinks sitting forgotten. Jo admitted she’d had feelings since her father’s visit; Emma admitted she wasn’t sure hers mattered until Calgary. Jo asked four separate times if Emma was sure, if she knew her promotion had nothing to do with Jo’s feelings, if she really wanted to do this.

Emma said, “More than anything,” and all the tension bled out of Jo’s posture.

They did agree Jo shouldn’t stay. They didn’t want to be in the tabloids again, and she’d already had to pay off one photographer. Emma kissed Jo one last time within the safety of her apartment before sending her on her way.

Once Jo was gone, Emma raced down her hallway and hurled herself onto her bed. She lay spread-eagle, staring at the ceiling, a grin on her face she couldn’t get rid of if she tried.

But she didn’t have to get rid of it. She could smile as much as she wanted because Jo liked her. Emma’s whole body twinkled. She thought about calling Avery back, but didn’t. This was just hers for the moment. Emma wondered if Jo’s heart felt as fluttery as hers did right now.