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“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 sheisdoing the movie, anyway.”

Cassius put his head in Emma’s lap, seemingly distressed bythe 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.”

“I donot.”

Avery made a face like she totally didn’t believe her. Emma rubbed Cash’s stomach.

“Your mom’s a jerk, did you know that?”

“Let me see the dress,” Avery said. “I promise I’ll stop teasing you for your crush on your boss.”

“Your mom doesn’t get to see my dress, does she?” Emma said to Cassius. “Nope, because she’s a big—hey!”

Avery had reached over and plucked Emma’s phone from where she’d left it on the couch.

“Em.” Her eyes were wide as she looked at the phone. “Em.”

Emma put her chin on top of Cassius’s head and tried not to blush. “It’s pretty good, yeah?”

“Emma, you lookamazing,” Avery said. “Oh my God, am I going to see you on TV? Are you going to, like, do the red carpet and all?”

“Oh no, they wouldn’t show me,” Emma said. “They’re only going to show stars and stuff, obviously.”

“Yeah, but if they show Jo, you’d be next to her! I could see you.”

Emma’s throat went tight at the possibility of all those cameras on her. She thought of her inhalers—one in her purse, one next to her bed—and wondered if she could bring one with her. But she didn’t have a clutch or anything to carry. How was she going to bring things? What did one even bring to the SAG Awards? She was so not prepared for this.

“Hey,” Avery said. “It’ll be fine.” She rubbed a hand along Emma’s arm. “The only time they’d show you would be, like, as Jo’s arriving, right? The celebs all go down a fancy red carpet to get their pictures taken, and the people who go with them are only there if they’re famous. Or, like, someone’s mom and so it’s cute. You’ll go some other way that they send the plebeians.”

Emma rolled her eyes at her sister, though she appreciated Avery distracting her.

“I’m less of a plebeian than you, at least,” she said. “Given you’ll probably be in a onesie on your couch.”

“Touché.”