“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.
* * *
—
The thing about kissing Jo the last week of work before hiatus was that now it was hiatus. Now they had four weeks off work. Now Emma didn’t have an excuse to see Jo every day.
She got up early on Saturday and went to services. She called her mother after, endured some questions about Jo, and discussed their plans for the first night of Hanukkah. Avery was hosting, as usual, and Emma couldn’t wait for all the food. She’d feel bad that her favorite part of most holidays was the food, but her sister loved making it as much as Emma loved eating it.
Emma lasted until about four in the afternoon before her palms itched so much she picked up her phone. It had been less than twenty-four hours since she’d last seen Jo, and yet she had this need to talk to her, text her, something.
Is it uncool to miss you already?
As soon as Emma sent it, she decided yes, it was incredibly uncool, and Jo would probably think she was an idiot. Instead, her phone rang.
She stopped herself from picking up immediately. Took a breath and brushed her hand over her shirt like there were wrinkles she needed to smooth out. Answered the phone.
“Hey,” she said quietly.
“I don’t think it’s uncool,” Jo said.
Emma released her breath, smiled. “No?”
“Or if it is, I’m uncool, too, I guess.”
Was smiling into the phone in silence for a good ten seconds uncool? Because that was what Emma did next.
“How was your day?” Jo asked eventually.
“Good,” Emma said. “Nothing special. You?”
“Nothing special,” Jo parroted. “I feel ridiculous, how much I want to see you.”
Emma felt like her chest burst open.
“It’s not ridiculous,” she said.
“It is,” Jo said. “It’s Saturday. It’s not like we would normally see each other on a Saturday.”
“We did last Saturday, though.”
Calgary was only a week ago. The flight and the drive home and the kiss in front of Emma’s apartment. Emma felt warm all over.
“We have to be able to go more than twenty-four hours without seeing each other,” Jo said. “We have to go this whole hiatus.”
Emma knew. They weren’t supposed to see each other over Innocents’ hiatus, were not supposed to appear to be dating. Emma was pretty sure they could totally get away with seeing each other, but Jo wanted to be careful. For as much as she hadn’t cared what people thought during the rumors, she cared now. She didn’t want to get in trouble, didn’t want to do anything that might jeopardize Emma’s new job. Which was nice and good and Emma appreciated it—Emma just also wanted to see Jo.
“What about New Year’s?” Emma said.
“We can’t go out on New Year’s, Emma,” Jo said. “Do you know how many photographers lurk on New Year’s Eve, waiting to catch someone in a compromising position?”
“I didn’t say go out. I’d suggest you come here, but I’d guess it’s easier to catch you coming into my building than it would be me going to your house.”
Jo was quiet for a moment. “Did you just invite yourself over for New Year’s Eve?”
Emma was glad Jo couldn’t see her blush over the phone. “I mean, yes, but only because it makes sense. We’d be—”
“Yes,” Jo said. “You should come over. I like that idea.”
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
Emma grinned like a fool.
New Year’s was two weeks away, but they could make it.
* * *
—
Hanukkah arrived first.
Emma was already at Avery’s when her parents got there. Hugs abounded, and just like at Passover, when her dad hugged her, he asked about Jo.
“You didn’t bring her this time, either? When are we going to meet her?”
“When I can trust you not to be obnoxious,” Emma said. “So probably never.”
Emma loved Hanukkah because she loved any holiday she got to spend with family. Her mom lit the candles, like she did every year. They all sang together, and Ezra was especially careful as he carried the menorah to the window. Then it was on to latkes and jelly doughnuts. Emma really loved the food.
The entire family was piled into Avery’s living room, Emma on the floor with the dogs and the twins both. The pile of food on the coffee table was so big you wouldn’t know they had all already eaten more than enough.
Emma’s phone buzzed.
Can I call the first night of Hanukkah or is that family time?
Emma couldn’t h
elp her smile at Jo’s text. She claimed to have eaten too many latkes, said she needed a break.
“There’s no such thing as too many latkes,” Dani said, dunking another one in applesauce and putting it in her mouth.
Emma laughed at her and slipped into the privacy of the laundry room. She called Jo.
She could hear the smile in Jo’s voice when she picked up. “Hi.”
“Hi,” Emma said back. She smiled into the phone herself. “You’re allowed to call on Hanukkah.”
“Okay, good,” Jo said. “I didn’t want to interrupt anything.”
“All you’re interrupting is everyone stuffing their faces with latkes,” Emma said. “We haven’t made it to dreidel yet.”
“Are you having fun?”
“I am.”
Even more fun now. Emma felt like she was a teenager, sneaking away from a family event to talk to a girl on the phone in a hushed voice. Her stomach was doing swoops.
They both stayed silent, Emma pressed the phone tight to her ear and tried to tamp down her grin.
“I didn’t have much of a reason to call,” Jo admitted. “I was just thinking about you. Wanted to wish you a happy Hanukkah.”
“I appreciate it.”
It was all so new. It didn’t feel fragile, but Emma knew they were both being careful anyway, both unsure of what came next. It was too important to rush into and mess up; she hoped Jo thought so, too. It was nerves but not nervousness, anticipation but not apprehension. Everything between them was a big ball of potential, and Emma couldn’t wait to see how it turned out.
“I should probably get back to my family,” Emma said.
“Yes, of course,” Jo said. “Tell them hello from me, if that’s not weird.”
“Oh, my parents would love it. They’re probably going to be totally obnoxious when you meet them.”
“Meeting the parents already, huh?”
Emma knew Jo was teasing, but it worried her a bit anyway.
“I’m kidding,” Jo said quickly. “I can’t wait to meet them. I’m incredibly charming and can do a good enough job teasing both of their daughters, they’re sure to love me.”
They really were, was the thing. Kind of like how Emma thought she might feel about her. Not that she’d said it.
Jo kept talking when Emma didn’t say anything. “You’ve already met my father, anyway. Seems like meeting your parents will probably be more fun.”
“It will,” Emma said. “You’re right—they’ll love you. I promise.”
Emma definitely felt like a teenager, butterflies in her stomach and perpetual grin on her face.
“Okay, now go,” Jo said. “You can call me later if you want.”
“Okay.”
“Go,” Jo said again, laughing this time, and Emma hung up with her skin tingling everywhere at the sound.
“Where have you been?” Emma’s mom asked when she returned to the living room.
Emma hadn’t put her phone away yet, and that was a mistake, she realized, as Avery laughed.
“Were you talking to your girlfriend?” Avery said.
The whole family ganged up on her.
Emma wanted to be annoyed by the teasing, but it was hard. The jokes were overshadowed by everyone gleefully calling Jo her girlfriend.
* * *
—
On New Year’s Eve, Emma tried on seven different outfits. She videochatted with Avery, did a fashion show of sorts. Avery picked out her two best choices. Emma changed back and forth between them three more times before settling on one.
She bought daffodils on her way over, hoped it didn’t seem too cliché. They reminded her of Jo’s dress at the SAGs, and she thought they’d make Jo smile.
Emma had seen Jo’s house before—the entryway mostly. Though she had even seen Jo’s bedroom before, once having to pick up a change of clothes when Jo spilled coffee before a meeting with the network and her spare office set was at the dry cleaner. Emma mostly remembered Jo’s closet, remembered it being as big as her entire apartment, though that was probably an exaggeration.
It was new, being shown into the house for the first time instead of simply being there for work. Jo answered the door in her usual black skinny jeans. Her feet were bare. She was so small, Emma immediately wanted to wrap her in a hug. Her shirt was thin and loose, a wide scoop neck. The pop of Jo’s collarbones made Emma blush.
“Come in,” Jo said with a grin. “Can I take your coat?”
“Yeah, thanks.”
Emma shucked her coat, which Jo hung in a closet by the door, and took off her shoes.
“Are those for me?” Jo gestured to the flowers in Emma’s hands.
“Um,” Emma said. “Yes.”
She thrust them toward Jo. Her nerves were getting the best of her, but she had no control over it. She was in Jo’s house for a date, and Jo wouldn’t stop smiling at her. Jo didn’t stop smiling when she took the flowers, either. Instead, she put a hand on Emma’s wrist, and Emma remembered, with blinding clarity, their moment on the red carpet almost a full year ago, Jo making Emma laugh so she forgot about her anxiety.
“Emma,” Jo said, still with a smile. “I think this will work better if we’re both a little nervous instead of you being crazy nervous.”
“I’m not crazy nervous,” Emma said immediately. Jo tilted her head and raised her eyebrows, and Emma sighed. “I might be crazy nervous.”
“I know,” Jo said. “And it’s adorable, but unnecessary.”
Warmth expanded out from Emma’s chest. She couldn’t help the way her mouth broke into a grin. Jo squeezed her wrist.
“Come help me get these in water,” Jo said.
She slid her hand down, locked her fingers with Emma’s, and tugged her farther into the house. Emma felt warm all over by this point. Her nerves settled down a bit.
Jo’s kitchen was huge, opening into an equally huge living room. Emma hadn’t seen this part of the house when she’d been there before, had turned down a hallway to get to Jo’s room before making it this far inside. There was an enormous refrigerator, two ovens, and a big farm sink set into the counter.
“God, Avery would kill for this kitchen,” Emma said, eyes wide. “How do you even have time to use it?”
“I don’t have enough, certainly,” Jo said.
She let go of Emma’s hand to pull out a cutting board from behind some ceramic jars labeled flour and sugar. She set the flowers on the cutting board and pulled a knife from a knife block.
“Cut these while I find a vase?”
Emma was happy to have a task.
“I cook most weekends,” Jo continued, answering Emma’s earlier question. “I keep trying to get Avery to give me her recipe for chocolate babka so I can try it out myself.”
She set a vase beside the cutting board Emma was using.
“Good luck,” Emma said. “She changed something from the recipe our mom gave her for it, and she didn’t even tell our mom what the change was for, like, three years. She guards recipes with her life.”
“Maybe once I meet your mom, I’ll charm it out of her instead.”
Emma stopped cutting the stems, just for a moment, took a breath, and smiled to herself. Sure, they had talked about Jo meeting her parents during Hanukkah, it was just—it was hard to believe she was standing in Jo’s kitchen while Jo talked about charming family recipes out of her mother.
“Or,” Jo said, standing sideways next to Emma and leaning her hip against the counter. “Can I charm the recipe out of you?”
Emma grinned at her. “I hate to break it to you, but I don’t have it.”
Jo laughed. “How do you not have a family recipe?”
“Because I don’t make things right, apparently,” Emma said. “Even though I always follow recipes exactly, nothing ever turns out quite right. Av
ery says I don’t have the touch.”
“Following recipes exactly is your first mistake,” Jo said. “Everyone knows the recipe is just a suggestion.”
“No!” Emma huffed at her. “People put effort into making a cookbook! There are recipe testers and everything. The recipe is literally tested so you can re-create what they’ve made. How is it a suggestion?”
Jo got a wooden spoon full of the sauce that was simmering on one of the gas burners. She held it to Emma’s lips.
“The original recipe for this called for one clove of garlic, which is ridiculous,” Jo said. “I used three tonight.”
Emma mmmed around the burst of flavor on her tongue.
“Do you think I should’ve followed the recipe instead?” Jo asked.
“No, boss,” Emma said, then froze.
Jo raised her eyebrows at her, smirking.
“I’m going to go die in a hole now,” Emma said, burying her hands in her face, and Jo broke into laughter.
“Come on,” Jo said. “It was cute!”
She tried to tug Emma’s hands away from her face. Emma only put up a little fight before relenting.
“It was not cute,” she said. “You’re not my boss anymore. You’re my—my—”
She panicked then, unsure what she was supposed to call this. Her family called Jo her girlfriend, sure, but they hadn’t said it to each other.
Jo smirked at her again, and Emma turned even redder. She put the daffodils in the vase on the counter.
“You can call me your girlfriend,” Jo said quietly. “If that’s something you want to do.”
“Yeah,” Emma said, maybe too quickly. She tried to tone down her eagerness. “Yeah, like, I think that’d be nice.”
Jo smiled at her, and Emma definitely wanted to call her her girlfriend.
For dinner, Jo had made her salmon with a lemon butter sauce and roasted butternut squash on the side. It was delicious, and Emma told her so at least three times as they ate. Their nerves had settled now, and conversation flowed easily.
Something to Talk About Page 27
