“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 definitelynotmy 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, ofcourseI 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,Momflashing 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.