Something to Talk About

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Something to Talk About Page 25

by Meryl Wilsner

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.

  “I’m sorry,” Emma said immediately. “I didn’t mean to—I shouldn’t have—I’m sorry I fell asleep on you.”

  “It’s fine,” Jo said. She glanced toward the desk at the gate. “We’re boarding soon.”

  “Right,” Emma said.

  She didn’t feel quite awake yet, still sleep warm and drowsy. The smile on Jo’s face was so soft Emma couldn’t stop staring at it. Jo caught her.

  “You okay?” she said.

  “What? Yeah.” Emma sat up straighter. “Yeah, I’m good.”

  Their zone was announced for boarding. As they gathered their bags, Emma noticed Jo flexing her left hand, stretching the fingers wide, then closing them into a fist, like she was trying to get blood flowing to it again. Emma didn’t know what time it had been when she fell asleep. How long did she sleep on Jo’s shoulder? How long did Jo let her? She wondered if it meant something, or if she was just reading into it because she wanted to see her feelings reciprocated.

  She kept quiet all the way through takeoff and hoped Jo assumed it was because she was tired.

  “You won’t mind if I fall asleep, will you?” Jo asked. “Not all of us got our nap in yet.”

  Emma gave her a smile. “Of course not, boss.”

  “Wake me up if you get too bored,” Jo said, like that was a thing Emma would ever do.

  Jo put on an eye mask and reclined her seat. Emma looked at her, glad she couldn’t be caught.

  Jo was beautiful. Emma had always known that. Everyone thought so. It wasn’t strange to look at her boss on the red carpet and think she was gorgeous, because she was—like, objectively. But it felt different now. Emma looked at her, saw her long hair gathered over one shoulder and thought about how Jo only ever put it in a ponytail when she was stressed. Like when she was on deadline, at the office on a weekend wearing a crewneck sweatshirt but still in her skinny jeans, heels discarded next to the couch. Emma looked at Jo’s face and thought of the different ways she smiled, close-lipped mostly, but every once in a while that face broke into a true grin, toothy and glad. Emma looked at Jo and thought she was gorgeous in a way that had nothing to do with objective standards of beauty. Watching her sleep felt too intimate, suddenly.

  This whole trip had a strange kind of intimacy. Maybe it was in all business trips. Emma remembered upfronts this year, Jo’s hand on her back as she struggled to breathe. She remembered Jo marching into her hotel room with pizza. The previous year’s trip to upfronts wasn’t like that, though. She’d explored half of Brooklyn by herself that first year, Jo nowhere near to feed her or comfort her or worry about her.

  And even this year’s upfronts weren’t like this trip. This trip, where she and Jo explored Calgary together. Where Jo tightened her scarf and looked at her mouth. Where Jo let her sleep on her shoulder even though it was cutting off blood supply. Jo was casual with her the whole time. Jo smiled and laughed and asked Emma’s opinions on everything from the shooting location to what she should order for dinner.

  Single Jo, who didn’t want to be Emma’s boss anymore. Emma wondered if she wanted to be more.

  If Jo were interested in her, how would Emma know for sure? Jo would never make a move. Not on an employee, and especially not on an employee who had been sexually harassed in the workplace. Jo would never do anything to make Emma uncomfortable. She hadn’t even been the one who initiated the almost kiss. That was all Emma. If anything was going to happen between them, Emma was pretty sure it was going to have to be her. And with Jo’s speech about going for what she wanted—yeah, that was about her job, her career, but Emma knew what she wanted.

  She wanted to go back to that day in Jo’s office after her father left, to have Mason not call and interrupt.

  She wanted to go back to that moment on the sidewalk with Jo’s hands on her scarf.

  She wanted to kiss Jo, more than anything, and Jo had told her to go for what she wanted.

  * * *

  —

  Back in LA, Chloe picked them up from the airport. It was past midnight as they headed toward Emma’s apartment first.

  It was late and maybe Emma was sleep deprived and imagining things, but the ride home felt tense. Like the moment was a bowstring pulled taut. Emma’s hand rested next to Jo’s on the middle seat. She would have had to move it only a few inches and they’d be holding hands. Chloe had the privacy divider up; Emma didn’t know why. It was closed when they got into the car. It was probably because it was late, and Chloe thought Jo might want to rest, might want the privacy to sleep, but it felt like it meant something more. Jo looked out the window and Emma looked at Jo’s hand on the seat next to her and this was their last business trip together. This ride felt like the end of something. Emma wondered if it could be the beginning of something else. Her heart thudded in her ears.

  Jo broke the silence in the back of the car. “I had a good trip. I hope you did, too.”

  “I did, boss,” Emma said quietly.

  Jo glanced at her, glanced away. Emma pulled her hand back to her side of the car. She swore Jo watched her do it.

  When they pulled up to Emma’s apartment, Chloe hopped out to take Emma’s luggage out of the trunk. Emma stood on the sidewalk, slightly uncomfortable, the way she always was when someone did something for her she could’ve done herself. The rear window was rolled down and Jo smiled out at Emma as Chloe got back into the driver’s seat.

  “I’m glad we didn’t have any asthma incidents,” Jo said. “Like last trip.”

  Maybe Jo was only talking about her asthma. Maybe Emma shouldn’t have read into this.

  It was just that asthma had been a stand-in, of sorts. For when Jo wanted to talk about something more, something bigger.

  It was fitting that asthma should be the metaphor for whatever was between them. Because sometimes Jo looked at Emma and Emma felt like she couldn’t breathe. Jo smiled and Emma’s chest clenched. Right now, Emma felt like she needed to kiss Jo more than she needed oxygen.

  “Happy birthday, Ms. Kaplan,” Jo said. “I hope it’
s a good one.”

  Emma had forgotten it was her birthday.

  It was her birthday. It was her birthday and Jo told her to go for what she wanted. Still, she couldn’t believe what she was doing even as she did it. She took a step closer and put one hand on the car door, holding where Jo’s window was rolled down. Jo looked up at her and Emma leaned over, leaned closer.

  It was the buildup of the trip, of Jo adjusting her scarf in front of the restaurant and letting Emma fall asleep on her shoulder. It was the buildup of the past year, even. Emma leaned closer and Jo straightened up, maybe unintentionally, maybe out of surprise, but she straightened up enough that Emma’s mouth could land easily on hers. It was just the soft press of their lips together, no desperation, no tongue. Jo pushed herself closer. A shiver ran through Emma’s entire body. She wanted to capture this moment, take a picture in her mind so she could never forget it.

  As quickly as she leaned over, she stood back up, hand still clutching the door. Her eyes stayed closed for a moment.

  “It’s pretty good so far,” she said, and turned to climb the stairs to her apartment building.

  Her skin tingled everywhere. Her mouth was numb without Jo’s against it. It took her two tries to get her key in the door, and she didn’t look back when she went inside.

  When she got to her apartment, she looked out the window. Jo must have had Chloe wait to see the lights go on in her apartment—her car was only just pulling away. Emma rubbed her fingers over her lips and couldn’t believe herself.

  * * *

  —

  The first thing Emma did when she woke up was check her phone. She scrolled through a huge variety of birthday messages and found nothing from Jo. That was . . . good, probably. She’d see her tomorrow at work. They could figure things out then.

  Jo had kissed her back. Of that Emma was sure. There wasn’t tongue or anything; it wasn’t a big kiss, but she had kissed her back. She’d leaned closer. Emma shivered just thinking about it. Maybe Jo would change her mind, maybe she wouldn’t want whatever Emma wanted—though Emma herself wasn’t sure what that was yet, not really. But she’d kissed back. Emma was always going to have that.

  She was still thinking about it when Avery showed up at her door with cinnamon rolls and a cupcake with a candle in it.

  Avery grinned and sang all of “Happy Birthday” to her.

  Emma closed her eyes. As she blew out the candle, she wished for Jo to want to kiss her again.

  “What’d you wish for?” Avery asked.

  Emma busied herself with taking the cinnamon rolls to the kitchen so her sister couldn’t see her blush.

  “You know I can’t tell you—then it won’t come true.”

  “I can’t believe you follow the same rules as my ten-year-olds,” Avery said.

  “Well, they’ve always been precocious,” Emma said. “Should I pop two of these in the oven? You want yours warmed, yes?”

  “What am I—a heathen? Of course I want it warmed.”

  Emma put two of the cinnamon rolls in her oven. Her sister had brought her a dozen—she was set for breakfast all week.

  “So how was the trip?” Avery said.

  “Good,” Emma said, going for nonchalant. “She approved everything. So that’s officially where we’ll film.”

  “And how was the kissing?” Avery asked.

  Emma startled. “What? There was no—why do you think—” She cringed, knowing she’d given herself away.

  Indeed, Avery’s jaw dropped. “Oh my God. I was just teasing, but you actually kissed, didn’t you?”

  “Um, maybe?”

  “Emma Judith Kaplan!” Avery smacked her on the arm. “This is amazing. I need details. What was it like? How did it happen?”

  Emma flushed and couldn’t stop her smile. Avery sounded as excited as she was about the whole thing. The oven timer went off then, and Avery waved Emma away.

  “I’ll get them,” she said. “You talk.”

  Emma tried to explain what it was like at the restaurant. How the thought of leaving Jo had suddenly pummeled her in the chest. She tried to explain the tension on the sidewalk or in the car on the way home from the airport. Like there was electricity in the air. Like the part in a movie where the soundtrack lets you know something important is about to happen.

  “And then she said she hoped I had a good birthday, and I just—I—I leaned down and she leaned up, just a little, and I kissed her.”

  Avery put a plate with a cinnamon roll on it in front of Emma, but Emma couldn’t be bothered right now.

  “I kissed her,” she said again. “And she kissed back. And it wasn’t even that big of a kiss but it was amazing, Avery, gosh, it was so good. She kissed me back. And then I just pulled back and said my birthday had been pretty good so far, and then I came inside.”

  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.”

 

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