Avery gave the best hugs. She always said it was because she was fat and had some cushion to her, and Emma didn’t exactly disagree, but she thought it also had something to do with how much love Avery put into her hugs.
“How was your day?” Emma asked.
“Good,” Avery said. She dropped her keys on the table by the door. “Bakery was busy. Twins have been wild. I’m glad I’m not in charge of them tonight. Are we ordering food?”
“Thai’s on its way,” Emma said.
“From that one place?”
“From that one place.”
“I love you.”
“I know,” Emma said, settling onto her sofa. She patted the seat next to her. “Maybe this means you’ll let me snuggle with Cassius on my couch?”
Avery shook her head. “Cash is literally never going to be allowed on the furniture.”
“He’s literally allowed on it whenever I dogsit,” Emma muttered.
“What?”
“Oh, nothing,” she said with fake nonchalance, laughing when Avery narrowed her eyes.
“Whatever.” Avery plopped herself down next to Emma and took off the bandana she always wore at the bakery. She scrubbed her fingers through her shoulder-length brown hair. “What’s up? Are we still doing the SAGs at my house Sunday? Dylan is under strict instructions that he’s in charge of the kids for the evening.”
Emma laughed nervously. Of course her sister led with that.
“About that . . . ,” Emma said. Avery tilted her head at her, and Emma decided to rip the Band-Aid off. “Jo needs a buffer so people won’t talk to her about Agent Silver—I don’t know if you saw that gossip column about how apparently she’s not good enough to write it or whatever”—Emma rolled her eyes—“but she needs a buffer. So she’s taking me to the ceremony.”
“The ceremony?”
“The SAG Awards ceremony.”
Avery blinked. “You’re going to the SAG Awards?”
Emma nodded.
“That’s awesome!”
“I guess?”
“C’mon, Em,” Avery said. “That’s going to be really cool. It’s a little weird your boss is taking you when, like—hasn’t she not taken a date to an awards thing since she was a teenager?”
Emma went red immediately. “Oh my God, Avery, I’m not her date.”
“You know what I mean,” Avery said, leveling Emma with a stare. “But also, like—that’s how it’s going to look.”
“Just because she takes a woman means everyone is going to suddenly decide she’s gay? Anyone who actually knows who I am is going to know I’m her assistant. And no one else is going to care.”
“If you say so.” Avery shrugged. Her eyes widened. “What are you even going to wear?”
Emma cringed, because she still felt like Jo buying her the dress was too much, and she was sure her sister would, too. “Um. A dress. I got it today.”
“You got a dress for the SAGs today? What, after work? It’s barely past six.”
“No,” Emma said. “This afternoon.”
“Jo let you take the afternoon off to get a dress?”
“Not exactly.” Emma sighed. She might as well just say it. “Jo and I went to a dress fitting, and she bought me a dress.”
Avery stared at her sister. Emma tried not to make excuses, knew Jo could do whatever she wanted with her money. And Jo was right, anyway; it would be rude to invite Emma and then make her pay.
“I’ve got pictures of it,” Emma said, reaching for her phone on the coffee table. “She’s taking care of bringing it to the suite where we’re getting ready and stuff so I don’t have to worry about it.”
“You’re getting ready together, too?”
“Yeah,” Emma said, more lightly than she felt. “She always gets ready in a suite. It makes sense for me to, too. I mean, I don’t know how to do my hair or anything for something like this.”
“Dude,” Avery said. “She wants to wife you.”
“What?”
“She totally wants to wife you,” Avery said. She ticked items off on her fingers as she listed them. “Buying you fancy things, spending time with you outside of work, showing you off in public.”
Emma grabbed a throw pillow and made it worth its name, hitting her sister in the face with it. “That’s ridiculous!”
“Is it, though?”
“Yes!” Emma exclaimed. “My boss does not want to wife me. She’s probably not even queer.”
“Just because she’s not out doesn’t mean—”
“Whatever.” Emma rolled her eyes. “We’re talking about the SAGs, not speculating about Jo’s sexuality. She invited me so she doesn’t have to deal with people asking her about the movie.”
“Maybe she shouldn’t be doing the movie if she doesn’t want to deal with people asking her about it.”
“Hey!” Emma snapped, still sensitive about the article claiming Jo wasn’t good enough for Agent Silver. “We don’t even know if she is doing the movie, anyway.”
Cassius put his head in Emma’s lap, seemingly distressed by the raised voices. Emma set her phone down again to scratch behind his ears. She could tell her face was flushed.
“You’d totally let her wife you,” Avery said. “What with your crush on her and all.”
Emma gave up, sliding onto the floor to fully cuddle with Cassius. He immediately put half his body weight on her.
“I do not have a crush on her,” she said.
“Em, you basically had a shrine to her on your wall as a kid.”
“I had pictures of inspiring women!” Emma said. “Maya Angelou was on that wall, too. You think I have a crush on Maya Angelou?”
Avery shrugged. “I have a brain crush on Maya Angelou.”
“How does your husband feel about that?”
“He has a brain crush on her, too—why do you think I married him?”
“Look, yes,” Emma said, “I think Jo is amazing and brilliant, but it’s, like, a mentor crush. Not an actual crush. Like how I felt about Professor Allister in college.”
“Or”—Avery drew out the word—“you have a thing for older women.”