As Emma dried off and got into her pajamas, she wondered what would happen when Jo left Innocents. She wasn’t so naively idealistic to think that Jo could be interested in her if she wasn’t an employee, but she hoped they’d end up friends.
* * *
—
Jo stopped beside Emma’s desk the next morning.
“Thanks for the chai,” Emma said, raising the drink in question at Jo.
Jo half smiled, but her brow was furrowed, worry lines around her eyes. Emma’s stomach flipped at Jo’s concern.
“I’m fine,” Emma said before Jo could ask.
“If you don’t want to be here today, that’s okay,” Jo said. “You can—”
“I’m fine, boss,” Emma said again. “I’m good.”
“If you need anything, you’ll let me know?” It was more question than command.
“I will.”
“Okay.”
Emma’s heart beat double time as she and Jo held eye contact. Eventually, Emma gave a roll of her eyes—both at herself and Jo—with a smile.
“Your script isn’t going to edit itself,” she said.
“Right,” Jo said. Her smile was weak. “Okay.”
She went into her office, leaving the door open behind her.
Jo was supposed to be writing all day. Only taking breaks to troubleshoot if anyone needed anything on set. Days like this, she usually stayed behind her desk for hours.
Today she came out and leaned against the doorjamb after less than an hour.
“You okay?” she asked.
Emma ducked her head in an approximation of a nod. Jo’s attentiveness made her warm all over. She had to get ahold of herself. There was no way she’d survive this crush if she blushed during every interaction.
Jo went back into her office. When Emma sneaked in later to check if she needed a refill, Jo held her tumbler away from Emma’s hands.
“Is there anything you need?” she said.
Emma let out an exasperated chuckle. “I need to refill your coffee, Jo,” she said. “I need to do my job.”
“You know if you need time—”
“You’re making it weirder by asking every hour how I am.” Emma wasn’t lying when she said, “I really am okay, boss.”
Jo smiled softly at her. Emma’s stomach went wobbly. She reminded herself that the crush didn’t matter. Nothing would ever happen between them, but that was okay. Being Jo’s friend—and they were friends, even if Jo was her boss, that didn’t mean they weren’t friends—wasn’t a consolation prize. Emma liked the way Jo relied on her. She liked everything about Jo, and she liked it before she figured out she had feelings. The crush didn’t have to change anything between them. As long as she could pull it together and stop the swooping feeling in her stomach every time Jo looked at her.
Jo’s face went more serious. “I want to do something about this.”
“I don’t,” Emma said. It was easier to think about her feelings for Jo than about everything that had happened with Barry. “I don’t want to cause any trouble. I just—I know I should. I know I should stand up and do what I can to make sure he doesn’t do this to anyone else but—”
“His behavior is not your responsibility,” Jo said. “You don’t need that weight on your shoulders. I completely understand why you wouldn’t want to say anything.”
Emma let out her breath, her shoulders sagging.
“But I am asking—you don’t have to do anything,” Jo said. “But I’m asking your permission to do things on my own. I know you don’t want me to release a statement about why he wasn’t hired, and I won’t. But what’s the use of being a former child star Hollywood darling if I can’t stand up for people who can’t do it on their own? You can’t possibly be the only person he has said something like this to. I want to bring him down.”
Emma shrugged, feeling helpless. “I don’t want to be a part of it.”
“You don’t have to,” Jo said. “I was just going to do it, without asking, but . . . it seemed better to tell you.”
Emma heard everything Jo wasn’t saying. They’d only just—made up might not be the right term, but it was all she could think of. They’d just made up after a fight because Jo didn’t tell her things. Emma hadn’t been moved by Jo’s first apology because it felt like an empty gesture. But this one was more than words—Jo was backing it up with actions. Still, Emma didn’t want to be involved.
“I don’t want to be a part of it,” she said again. “At least not right now. I don’t want to know about it. I really appreciate you telling me, but . . . I don’t want to know anything else. You can do whatever, just keep me out of it.”
“Okay,” Jo said. “Thank you.”
“Thank you.”
* * *
—
Emma ate lunch with Phil, and he gave her such a pitying look that she knew he thought she was pathetic.
“How are things with you and Jo?” Phil asked.
“Fine,” Emma said immediately. She didn’t want to talk about it. Didn’t want to explain how Jo’s reaction to what Barry had said made her feel safe. She didn’t want to tell anyone else what Barry said, but she wasn’t sure she could adequately describe how things were between her and Jo without it.
“Girl, she tore you apart yesterday,” Phil said.
“Yeah but she apologized.” Emma shrugged. “She says I was right.”
“So you kissed and made up?”
Chantal walked by then, and by the look she gave them, she probably overheard.
Emma smacked Phil’s arm and rolled her eyes. “You know we were never actually dating,” she said. “But thank God the tabloids have decided we broke up. Now people can stop thinking I’m fucking my way into the business.”
Phil bumped his shoulder against hers. “I know I tease you, but were the rumors really that bad?”
“Yeah,” Emma said, no hesitation. “They were.”
“I guess I’ll stop selling my stories to the tabloids then.”
Emma rolled her eyes again. “Hopefully whoever on set actually is stops. Or hopefully they’re at least in the camp who thinks we ‘broke up’ or whatever.” She thought about Chantal walking by, wondered if there would be an article about how Jo and Emma kissed and made up. But Chantal had worked with Jo for years; she didn’t seem a likely leak. Emma looked around. No one else was close enough to hear her conversation with Phil. “I don’t understand why anyone here would tell tabloids Jo and I were together. Surely people who actually see us interact know we’re not?”
As soon as it was out of her mouth, she expected Phil to make a joke about the way she looked at Jo or something. It was his style, and usually it made her laugh, but she was sick of it at her expense. Especially now. How exactly did she look at Jo?
But Phil just shrugged. “Money makes people do dumb stuff.”
Emma bumped their shoulders again and smiled as she finished her lunch.
* * *
—
Overall, the day went well. Sure, there were a few times when someone mentioned Barry Davis and Emma’s whole body went stiff, and she dealt with looks from the cast and crew that made it clear that even people who hadn’t been present when Jo had yelled at her knew Jo yelled at her, but she didn’t particularly care. Because Jo kept checking on her, brows furrowed with concern. Every time Jo looked at her, Emma’s muscles went loose and warm. When she really thought about it, it wasn’t all that different from how she always felt around Jo. She was just aware of what the feelings were now. God, she could literally never tell her sister. She’d never hear the end of it.
She was so focused on Jo all day, Emma actually forgot she had to tell Avery about what happened with Barry. She was reminded when the first thing Avery did when she arrived at Emma’s apartment was open her arms for a hug. Emma sank into it,
let her sister hold her up for a moment. Avery squeezed tight, the bag in her hand heavy against Emma’s back and Cassius waiting patiently at their feet.
“I brought dinner,” Avery said.
Dinner was a loaf of crusty sourdough bread and six different kinds of cheese.
“You didn’t need to bring comfort food, Ave,” Emma laughed.
Her chest was warm, though, at how much her sister wanted to take care of her.
“There’s never not a time for grilled cheese, okay?”
Emma couldn’t disagree.
Avery sneaked concerned glances at Emma as she got to work making dinner. Emma sat on the floor with her back against the back of her couch, let Cassius climb into her lap. She and Avery chatted about the bakery while Avery cut medium-thick slices of bread and slathered one side of each with butter.
“I kind of assume you read something about me and Jo, right?” Emma eased into her story.
“I might’ve,” Avery said. “It didn’t sound good.”
“I know! It’s wonderful,” Emma said, and Avery gave her a quizzical look. “That people think we’re broken up? I hope the story sticks, because then we’ll finally be left alone.”
“Yeah, I get that, but . . .” Avery got a pan heating up on Emma’s stove. “Don’t you not want Jo yelling at you in front of half the show?”
Emma smiled, shrugging one shoulder. “It worked out in the end.”
She scratched Cassius behind the ears and stole some of his strength to explain what happened. She told Avery about yelling at Barry over bad direction and getting cut down by Jo, told her how Jo apologized afterward, for everything. She said nothing about the irony that the tabloids decided they’d broken up at the same time Emma had realized she actually had a crush.
Avery looked dubious. “So the two of you are suddenly okay now?”
“I mean, I guess it is a little sudden, yeah, but—things have gone back to normal so easily,” Emma said. “I look forward to going to work again.”
She didn’t tell Avery about Jo coming out to her. Avery already thought Jo was queer, and Emma wasn’t here to out anyone, not even to her sister, who would never tell anyone, including Dylan, if Emma didn’t want her to. Plus, Emma may have had other reasons to not want to invite discussion of Jo’s dating preferences. Selfish reasons.
Avery piled cheese onto a piece of bread, butter side down, in the now-hot pan. She put another piece of bread on top. She didn’t say anything more as she cooked, letting Emma chatter about things with Jo and how she’d probably be able to come to the twins’ last baseball game tomorrow.
When the sandwiches were ready, Avery took their plates and set up on the couch. Emma poured herself a huge glass of milk, poured her sister a smaller one before joining her in the living room. Cassius came to lie at their feet, but he knew better than to even consider begging.
“So Barry Davis wasn’t the greatest guy in the world like you thought he might be?” Avery asked. She was lighthearted about it, while Emma’s chest tightened in a way she’d gotten used to over the day. “You didn’t fall madly in love with his talent or anything?”
“Please don’t even joke about that,” Emma said, disgusted. “He was very definitely not great, turns out.”
“Not great?”
“Not great,” Emma repeated. She tried for nonchalant, her voice breezy. She took a bite of her sandwich before continuing. “Okay, first of all, this is delicious and I love you.”
Avery tipped her glass of milk at her.
“Anyway,” Emma said, “he kind of acted like since of course I’m sleeping with Jo, I shouldn’t have a problem, like, giving him a hand job, for opportunities. Though honestly I think if I were sleeping with someone for a job, I’d be more than an assistant at this point.”
Avery didn’t laugh at the joke. She stared at Emma, cheese oozing out of the sandwich in her hand and stretching toward the plate below.
“He propositioned you?” she asked.
“Eh, I guess?” Emma waved her hand, acting like he didn’t very explicitly proposition her. It hadn’t been a comment taken out of context. “He was a dick. And he’s definitely not my favorite director anymore.”
“Em,” Avery said.
Emma knew she wanted more information, wanted to talk it out. But Emma didn’t. She didn’t want to talk about it or think about it or do anything about it. She was focusing on good things.
“Don’t worry about it,” she said. “I got to yell at him, and Jo was really supportive when I told her. He’s not going to direct. I’m never going to have to see him again.”
Avery set aside her plate. “Emma, are you okay?”
Emma sighed. She gave her sister a smile. “I’m fine,” she said. It got truer every time she said it. “I’m going to talk to Rabbi Blumofe about it over the weekend. You don’t need to worry about me.”
“I’m your older sister, of course I need to worry about you.”
Avery climbed right into her space on the couch, wrapped both arms around her. Emma held her sandwich as far away as she could so it didn’t make a mess, but she didn’t pull back.
After they’d finished dinner and were flipping through streaming shows to find something to watch, Emma’s phone buzzed, Mom flashing across the screen when she grabbed it off the table.
“Hello, it’s your favorite daughter,” Emma said as she picked up the phone, grinning at Avery, who rolled her eyes.
“Hi, honey,” her mom said. “How are you doing?”
“Good,” Emma said. “Avery’s over. She made me dinner.”
“Oh good,” her mom said. “She’s taking good care of you?”
Avery was currently tearing up her napkin, rolling the pieces into balls, and flicking them at Emma, so she wasn’t sure it counted as taking good care of her.
“Why would she need to be taking care of me, Mother?” Emma was fairly certain she knew the answer.
“Well . . . you know . . . I heard that you might need it.”
Emma laughed. “You’ve been reading the tabloids and now you need to call to check in on me?”
“Sometimes it seems like the tabloids are the only way I can find out what’s happening in your life,” her mom huffed. “You don’t call enough.”
It was her standard line, even though Emma called every Saturday, and usually at least once more during the week.
“I’m fine, Mom,” Emma said. “Jo and I actually are on better terms, regardless of what the tabloids say.”
“Right.”
Avery sent a napkin ball directly into Emma’s eye. Emma cursed under her breath.
“I have to go beat up your useless eldest,” she said. “I promise I’m fine. I’ll call this weekend, okay?”
“Okay, okay,” her mom said. “I love you.”
“Love you, Mom.”
Emma hung up the phone and launched herself at her sister.
Emma had three inches on Avery, long legs and a runner’s body, but Avery was built like a weight lifter. She wrestled Emma from the couch to the ground and almost had her pinned—much to Cassius’s distress—when Emma resorted to tickling. She didn’t relent until Avery called uncle.
“I hate you,” Avery said afterward, still clutching her side.
“Sure you do,” Emma said. “That’s why you came over with comfort food and that superworried look on your face? Super hateful.”
Avery shoved Emma’s shoulder but then held up her hands in defeat when Emma made to start up their battle again.
“Fine,” Avery said as she got resituated on the couch. “I, like, love you and stuff.”
“I, like, love you and stuff, too.” Emma plopped on the cushion next to her. “And don’t tell Mom about anything, okay? I don’t want her worrying about me, too. I’m fine, I swear.”
“Okay,” Avery said
quietly. “But you know you don’t have to feel ashamed or anything. You can tell her, if you want.”
“I know, Ave,” Emma said.
She wasn’t ashamed, but she didn’t want to deal with it.
“So I’m not going to tell Mom or tell you how to react to this whole situation or anything,” Avery said, “but if I ever meet Barry Davis, I’m gonna kick him in the nuts.”
Emma giggled.
“Also,” Avery said, scooching farther away on the couch. She patted the cushion between them. “Cash, want up?”
Cassius hesitated for only a second before joining them on the couch. Emma stared at her sister, mouth agape.
“You really do love me!” she said, snuggling into the dog.
“I do, but I’m picking what we watch,” Avery said.
“Deal.”
13
JO
Jo didn’t know what she was going to say to Emma when she handed over her coffee Thursday morning. She stopped beside her desk. Opened her mouth and—
“You’re coming to the game tonight, right?” It came tumbling out. She didn’t let Emma answer. “It’s the last game and the team is going for ice cream after. I can drive you, if you’d like. You can’t miss the last game.”
Emma blinked. “I was going to go home first,” she said. “I didn’t bring clothes for the game. I only have this.”
“This” being the navy-blue dress with white piping that she had on, that was altogether too fancy for a baseball game. Emma looked good in it. Jo noticed and then set the thought aside.
“You can go home at lunch and change, or get clothes to change into at least,” Jo said. She looked away. “If you’d prefer I can avoid the bleachers. You can sit there with your sister and—”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Emma said. “I’ll sit by you. We’re okay.”
“Of course,” Jo said.
She still felt like the other shoe was about to drop.
“I’ll change before we go,” Emma said. “I’d appreciate the ride, thank you.”
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