Jo stayed to the side of the room, sipping her coffee and considering getting a croissant. Chantal joined her, and Jo felt a bit like the adults at a kids’ party—everyone else thrilled and boisterous. She hadn’t had enough coffee to be too excited about anything.
Before Jo gathered the energy to even say good morning to Chantal, Emma swooped in, pressing a napkin holding a filled, crescent-shaped pastry into her hand. Their fingers brushed as Jo took it from her. It was as close as they’d been to each other in a week.
“Okay, I know you don’t like sugar in the morning but you need to try this,” Emma said. “My sister makes the best rugelach. Eat it, you won’t regret it.”
And she was off again, not giving Jo the chance to protest.
Jo watched her go, then looked at Chantal in hopes of commiserating—Can you believe this girl?—but Chantal just had one eyebrow raised at her.
“And how was your hiatus?” Chantal said, not as pointed as it might have been but pointed enough.
Jo waved the rugelach dismissively. “You know how it was,” she said, because Chantal did. She would be the one fully taking over the production side of Innocents when Jo officially moved on, so she had been plenty involved over the summer. “Good luck wrangling this crew when I’m gone.”
Chantal chuckled. Jo took a bite of the pastry and let out a hum of pleasure. It was fantastic. Jo decided to save another one for later before she’d even finished the first. Investing in Floured Up was definitely the right choice.
* * *
—
That afternoon, Jo answered emails while Emma sat on her couch working on something; Jo wasn’t sure what. Emma had been there since lunch, one foot tucked under her. It was louder than it had been in months—the door open and the building again filled with other people—but Emma was quiet. She’d been quiet for a week now. Subdued. Jo had asked and been brushed off. She didn’t want to intrude. She was Emma’s boss, not her friend. Emma didn’t have to tell her if something was wrong, though it didn’t mean Jo didn’t worry.
Jo never tried to write the first day back—too many interruptions and distractions. Aly and Phil came in first with props questions. Emma scrunched her nose in greeting to them but stayed focused on her work. Jo solved some of their issues and gave Aly leeway with the rest. Tate interrupted next—not directly, but via a new intern, shaking with nerves, asking for the scripts for the entire season. Jo didn’t roll her eyes, because Tate sent a new kid on a fool’s errand every year, and it wasn’t the intern’s fault.
“You’ll learn not to believe half of the things out of Tate’s mouth,” Jo said gently. “Feel free to tell him I’m killing his character off this season. See if it’ll make him behave.”
After the intern left, looking exactly as nervous as he had when he came in, Emma smiled at Jo. It had been too long since Emma had done that.
“Maybe he’ll also learn you’re not nearly as intimidating as he seems to think,” she said.
Jo shrugged. “It helps to have them terrified the first few weeks. Keeps them in line.”
She tried not to think about the other Kaplan sister—how she, too, knew Jo wasn’t as tough as her reputation made her seem. Jo expected Avery to have told Emma about the baseball games by this point, especially after Jo invested in the bakery. Every time Jo thought about it, she got an unfamiliar anxious feeling in her stomach. She didn’t know what to say to Emma, so she didn’t say anything.
Chantal came by soon thereafter. Emma said hello and went back to her work. When Jo looked up to see what Chantal needed, she was met with more raised eyebrows. Chantal didn’t say anything about Emma being there, but Jo could tell she had thoughts on it. It was unnecessary—no one else seemed to think it was strange. Emma had always worked in Jo’s office on occasion. There was nothing different about it just because the world had decided they were dating.
Jo had almost forgotten about the rumors over the summer. There had been a few photos of their lunch when they discussed Emma’s promotion—including a shot of her squeezing Emma’s hand on top of the table. She should’ve been smarter than that. Other than that one outing and upfronts, though, they hadn’t made the tabloids. It didn’t mean the tabloids had forgotten about the rumors; nor had Chantal, apparently. The thought chafed Jo for two days. She’d worked with Chantal for more than half a decade. The woman should’ve known her better than to put any stock in gossip.
Wednesday afternoon, Jo was stuck on a scene and annoyed as hell. She was annoyed that Emma wasn’t already in her office, as she’d been so many other days. She was annoyed that she hadn’t already asked her in—Chantal’s raised eyebrows influencing Jo’s actions. The summer had been such a nice respite from worrying about how her interactions with Emma might have looked to outside observers. Jo would have really liked to not care about appearances, but this was Hollywood, and she wasn’t naive.
That was why she waited so long, struggled for so long, before finally calling Emma to work in her office.
Emma came, as she always did, but instead of sitting down and getting to work, she stood next to the couch, clutching her tablet to her chest.
“Are you sure I should be working in here?” she asked.
Jo looked up distractedly, her brow furrowed. “Why shouldn’t you?”
“I just don’t want anyone to think . . . anything.”
It was the reason Jo had taken so long to ask her to, but she bristled anyway.
“Think anything like that you’re my assistant and sometimes I have work that requires you to be in my office?” she snapped. She was peevish about the dialogue she was working on and about caring what others thought. That frustration was worsened now that her dynamic with Emma had changed enough with people around that her assistant was making a big deal of this.
“I just meant—” Emma started.
“If you’re going to talk, get out. I can’t work with you talking at me.”
Jo could feel the weight of Emma’s stare on her even though she wasn’t looking back.
“You’re the one who asked me to come in here,” Emma said. Her voice was quiet, hurt.
“And now I’m asking you to leave,” Jo said.
There was a beat, but still Jo refused to look up. Emma closed the door on her way out.
Jo didn’t finish the scene.
* * *
—
Jo almost didn’t pick up her phone when Evelyn called that evening. She was alone with a glass of red wine and considered staying that way, not letting anyone interrupt her over-the-top moping, but she ended up answering right before it went to voicemail.
“I hear your girlfriend is quite comfortable working in your office,” Evelyn said.
“What?”
Evelyn paused at the vitriol in Jo’s voice. Jo sighed, and took a sip of her wine.
“I’m sorry,” she said, gentler. “What are you talking about?”
“On Star’s website,” Evelyn said. “They have an article about how you and Emma must have gotten cozy over the summer, given how comfortable she was working in your office, even with other people around.”
Jo rubbed at her eyes. They were dry, tired. She should take her contacts out.
“When did this article go up?” she asked.
“Ā-Jo, what’s going on?” Evelyn said. “Why do you sound . . . exhausted?”
“You sound great, too,” Jo said, no bite to it. Evelyn didn’t respond, and Jo knew she might as well tell her what was happening, because otherwise Ev would simply wait her out. “Emma was concerned about working in my office today, and I didn’t know why and I snapped at her. I didn’t know someone—God, someone had to have leaked that. People are back for two days and we’re in the fucking tabloids again. If I find out who it is, I’m going to kill them.”
“I’d bet Emma saw the article,” Evelyn said, “because it was published this
morning and she probably has a Google alert set for your names together.”
“Don’t accuse her of things I know you do,” Jo said, smiling slightly. “Anyway, now I’m going to have to apologize to her in the morning.”
“They always say makeup sex is the best sex.”
“I’m hanging up now.”
“No, no, come on, I’m teasing,” Evelyn laughed. “How is it with everyone back, other than your spat with Emma?”
“Louder than usual,” Jo said. “More distractions. It always takes me a while to get used to it.”
“Tate do anything stupid yet?”
“When does he not?”
“I’m going to meet him when I come visit, okay?” Evelyn said. “I’m coming to set this time, meeting everyone.”
“Have you decided when you’re coming yet?” Jo needled, setting her wineglass down and settling deeper into the cushions of her couch.
“Your birthday, maybe? Or I’ll just show up and surprise you one day.”
Jo would’ve been happy with either.
“I’ll have to see if Sammy’s free, too,” Evelyn said.
Jo knew she was mostly joking—Sam had played Jo’s older brother on The Johnson Dynasty, and Evelyn had fawned over him ever since. Jo was fairly certain that Evelyn started her infatuation as a way to bother Jo, decades ago, but she had kept it up so long by this point that there must’ve been some truth to it.
“You’ll have to fight me for him,” Jo teased. “We’re actually going to dinner on Saturday.”
“Tell him I’m single.”
Jo rolled her eyes and couldn’t help her grin. More of her tension bled away the longer she talked to Evelyn. She felt bad about snapping at Emma, but with context, it all made sense, and it would be an easy fix, apologizing in the morning.
10
JO
Can I take the afternoon off?” Emma asked the next morning before Jo even had a chance to thank her for the coffee.
Jo blinked. Emma took time off only for dentist appointments, holidays, and the one time a year she got sick.
“Of course,” Jo said.
“Thank you.” Emma turned back to her computer before Jo could say anything else.
Jo stood beside Emma’s desk for a moment, but when Emma continued to not look at her, Jo headed into her office and closed the door behind her.
So much for an easy fix.
On a normal day, Emma would tell Jo why she needed the afternoon off. Today, Jo could only assume she’d be at the twins’ baseball game. Jo had to apologize to her before she left for the day. She’d snapped at Emma when Emma was trying to do her job—or, not her job, not exactly. Emma was trying to rein in the rumors, and Jo didn’t bother listening before dismissing her. Emma was doing more than her job, was doing what she could to make Jo’s life easier. Jo hadn’t understood that yesterday, but she did today. She needed to tell Emma.
But all morning, Emma avoided letting any pauses linger in their interactions. Jo would open her mouth and Emma would interrupt with something, and so Jo never apologized.
When Emma dropped off Jo’s lunch, she didn’t stay to eat with her.
“I’m going to head out,” she said instead.
Jo looked up at her and smiled gently. “Have a good afternoon, Emma.”
“You, too, Ms. Jones.”
Jo could feel her smile go strained. Emma turned and left without another word.
* * *
—
Jo considered not going to the game. But Ethan didn’t deserve her not showing up because of personal issues. And it provided another opportunity to apologize to Emma.
Like she did every game, Jo wore her standard baseball cap and big sunglasses and sat in the top row of the bleachers. She scrolled through various apps on her phone instead of anxiously watching the parking lot to see when Emma would arrive.
She saw her immediately anyway. Dani and Ezra raced to the field like they always did, Dylan and Avery moving more slowly, three rottweilers and Jo’s assistant with them today. Emma was in a tank top and shorts, waves of hair past her shoulders and sunglasses on top of her head. It was the most casual Jo had ever seen her. Jo’s breath caught.
She prepared herself for Emma noticing her, realizing where she sneaked off to all these summer afternoons. She expected Emma to freeze, to look confused, maybe even hurt. She did not expect Emma to smile up at her and wave as she climbed the bleachers. Jo attempted her typical nonchalant wave, but her fingers were rigid.
Avery was quiet as she and Emma joined Jo in the top row. She sat next to Jo, Emma on the other side of Avery. Jo and Avery’s eyes met, then Avery’s darted away, back toward her sister.
“Nice day for a ball game, isn’t it?” Emma asked, flicking her sunglasses down over her eyes.
“It is,” Jo said.
She had no idea what was going on.
Emma knew she’d be here. Did Avery tell her today, or had Emma known for some time? Had Jo been confused about how to tell her for no reason? Emma knew but didn’t think it was important enough to discuss? Jo needed to ask Avery, or even Dylan, who was still in the grass with the dogs.
Jo had been in plenty of awkward situations at work. She could be charming and disarming and win the day. Here, though, she couldn’t figure out how to keep conversation going. She sat silently until Vincent arrived. She saw his smirk when he noticed Emma and prayed he wouldn’t say anything stupid.
“Emma,” Jo said, “this is my brother, Vincent.”
Emma smiled and shook his hand. Was Jo imagining how her movement seemed stiff?
“It’s nice to meet you,” Emma said.
“Likewise,” Vincent said, his smirk fading into a smile. “Surprised my sister let you take the afternoon off. The way she talks about you, you’d think the show would fall apart without you there.”
Jo could have hugged him.
“I’m quite sure that’s not true,” Emma said.
Jo shifted on the bleacher. Emma glanced down the first baseline.
“Anyway,” she said, “now that Dylan has been the one who had to pick up the dog poop, I’ll go take those pups off his hands.”
Emma was gone before Vincent even sat down. Jo should’ve stopped her. Should have gone after her. Should have told her it was true, not only that she talked Emma up to her brother, but that the show wouldn’t be half as good without her. Jo had told her once, back at the wrap party that seemed so long ago now. They’d had that ridiculous drunken kiss and upfronts and asthma and a summer of getting closer since then, and still Jo felt like she’d never been further away from her assistant.
“How did it take you this long to let her come to a game, Jo?” Vincent said. “Honestly.”
Jo shrugged, looking at Avery. Her brother let the topic drop, thankfully.
“I told her when you invested,” Avery said out of the corner of her mouth. “It felt like too much not to.”
“Right,” Jo said.
The timing of Emma’s melancholy made sense now. Or—it didn’t make sense, really, but Jo had context. It didn’t make sense, because why would Emma be sad that Jo invested in Floured Up? Jo’s investment was because Avery’s bakery was doing well, and her money allowed it to do even better. Emma should be happy about that.
“She won’t talk to me about it,” Avery said, an undercurrent of pain in her voice.
Jo still needed to apologize to Emma for snapping at her the previous day. Perhaps it would be a good opening to a larger conversation. Not that Jo felt the need to apologize for not telling Emma about investing in the bakery, but if they could discuss it, Emma might be able to understand her perspective. They could move on.
Jo only lasted half an inning before excusing herself. Emma had taken the dogs toward the outfield along the first baseline. Jo climbed down the bleachers a
nd headed toward her. It looked, for a moment, like Emma might flee, but two of the dogs were lying down, and they anchored her to the spot.
“Hi,” Jo said, still a few yards away.
“Hi.” Emma barely opened her mouth to say it. She didn’t take her eyes off the field.
“I’m sorry for snapping at you yesterday,” Jo said. “I know now you were just being conscious of the rumors. I didn’t understand at the time, but I do now.”
“Great,” Emma said, and nothing more.
So much for opening up a conversation.
Emma couldn’t be this mad at her. For what—not saying anything about the baseball games? Why was that Jo’s responsibility? She was Emma’s boss, not her friend, and certainly not her sister, who also had said nothing. And when it came to investing in the bakery, that was a business decision—Emma didn’t need to know what Jo did with her money. Not to mention that Emma should be happy about that particular investment.
When Jo was in the wrong, she apologized. The practice had helped her throughout her career. Admit when you were wrong, apologize, do better. But Jo shouldn’t need to apologize for supporting Emma’s sister.
Jo had been the one who felt uncomfortable, though, texting Emma that she’d be late the morning she went to Floured Up. Even then, she’d felt like she should tell Emma. And now it was clear that she’d hurt her. She wished she hadn’t.
But that didn’t mean her behavior necessarily warranted an apology.
The argument sounded weak, even in her head.
In silence, they watched two batters ground out.
“I—” Jo started. She didn’t know what to say. “Do you have your inhaler? It’s fairly dusty.”
“Yep,” Emma said.
Jo felt so small, in sneakers instead of heels. Emma seemed towering, shoulders back, head high.
“You should come to the last game,” Jo said. “If you’d like.”
Emma scoffed. There, perhaps, her frustration was justified. Had Jo told her sooner, Emma could have come to support her niece and nephew the whole season long.
Something to Talk About Page 13
