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She leaned over the sink and thought she might throw up.

She almostkissedherboss.

But—well—that wasn’t a big deal. It didn’t have to be, anyway. Shehadkissed her boss, months ago by this point. If that wasn’t a big deal, this was even less of one.

Except this time hadn’t been an accident.

She hadn’t been drunk, hadn’t had bad depth perception. She’d been completely sober and aware of what she was doing. And it was all her—she stayed in Jo’s office, she rounded Jo’s desk, she cupped Jo’s cheek, she leaned in. But Jo had leaned forward, too—Emma was pretty sure.

Maybe she’d imagined it.

Last time, Emma would’ve done anything to avoid talking about it. Her primary feeling after the wrap party had been mortification. Now she just felt...want.

She wanted to talk about it. She wanted to do it, to actually kiss Jo. Not drunkenly, not in the heat of the moment. She wanted to kiss Jo hello and goodbye, to kiss her with garlic breath and in the morning before either of them had brushed their teeth.

But none of that was possible. Jo was herboss. Jo had created an entire organization against harassment in the workplace. Emma couldn’t go into their own workplace and tell Jo she wanted to kiss her.

Though Jo had probably figured that out by this point, given what happened today. Jo shrank around her father, always had. Jo—a towering giant no matter how short she was, Emma’shero—was made small by this man. Emmahatedhim. Jo was the sun. Jo was gravity. Emma wanted to take the weight off her shoulders for a minute.

Avery’s voice popped into Emma’s head, asking howkissingJo was what Emma came up with to take the world off her shoulders. Emma didn’t know. But she’d been desperate to do something, and there was a longing in her chest that hadn’t left, like a string was wrapped around her heart and connected to Jo. It pulled hard enough that she wanted to go to Jo still, drive to her house to tell her all the ways she was wonderful.

Emma picked up her glass and drained it. Left it sitting in the sink.

It hadn’t mattered before, her little crush. Jo was beautiful and brilliant, and she was fiercely protective of Emma after the whole Barry Davis debacle. Who wouldn’t have a crush on her? It had been weirdly normal when Emma had figured out her feelings. Nothing had really changed. Sure, she noticed the way her heartsped up and her face warmed in Jo’s presence more than she used to, but it wasn’t a big deal. It was like having a crush on a celebrity. No matter how gorgeous or smart or kind Jo was, there was no chance. Not to mention the fact that Emma had thought Jo was straight for so long, it had really seemed impossible.

Today, though, Jo had leaned in. She did. Emma hadn’t imagined that. She could still feel the satin soft skin of Jo’s cheek beneath her thumb. Her fingers buzzed. They’d been close enough to breathe each other’s air. Emma could count Jo’s eyelashes as they fluttered.

She should’ve been frightened of these feelings, maybe, but the memory was too intoxicating to be terrifying. Emma pulled out her phone and sat on the couch. Her finger hovered over her sister’s name in her list of favorite contacts. Avery would be able to help her figure this out. Avery helped her figure everything out. But Avery also teased her. She couldn’t tell Avery about this without getting laughter and anI told you so. It would be well meaning, sure, but Emma couldn’t. Not when the walls of her heart felt thin, like they might collapse in on themselves at any moment.

Because none of this could work.

Even if Jo wanted to kiss her, too, it was too complicated. Jo was her boss. Her boss who was already being undermined by people who didn’t think a woman could write an action movie. This would just give them something else to complain about, to point to and say women had too many feelings, weren’t focused on what mattered. Of course it was men sitting on the sidelines who decided what mattered.

As Emma’s anxiety explained how this would never work, her pragmatism kicked in. She was a problem solver, a planner. If anyone could figure this out, it was her.

A few months from now, Jo would be working full-time onAgent Silver. Emma would be an associate producer onInnocents. Different projects, different hierarchies of supervision. She could move up the hiring process for Jo’s new assistant, if Jo agreed, and move to associate producer earlier. The optics of a relationship might not be excellent. Maybe they’d get dragged through the mud in the tabloids, but Emma had been through enough shit in the tabloids this year. She could take it. This could work.

Of course, it all hinged on Jo actually wanting her back. Just because she’d leaned in today didn’t mean she wanted more. What did Emma have to offer Jo freakin’ Jones?

Except—didn’t Jo always say how important Emma was to her? Wasn’t that what the whole fight with her dad was about? How much Emma helped her get through each day.

If Jo was interested in her—it made Emma reexamine their whole relationship. She knew better than to wonder if that was the reason Jo had hired her. Jo was too professional for that. Emma hadn’t had a crush on Jo then, either. So when had things changed for Jo? Was it possible that Johadtaken her to the SAGs because she liked her? Emma couldn’t believe that.

But she remembered Jo’s panic at upfronts, the way Jo touched her back. Emma had been the one worried about the rumors then. She’d had to remind Jo about them. Jo was willing to miss a panel for her. Jo canceled plans for her.

Over the summer, Jo had said Emma was hiring her next assistant, not her next Emma. Emma hadn’t thought much about it at the time, but now her heart leapt at the idea of beingJo’s Emma.

Maybe this wouldn’t work. Maybe saying anything was a terrible idea. But these feelings mattered now. The chance that they might be mutual mattered. Emma didn’t know what she was going to say the next day, but she had to say something.

—

She stood next toher desk when Jo arrived. Indoors, and Jo had huge cat-eye sunglasses on. Emma held on to the coffee cup as Jo’s fingers closed around it.

“Can we talk?”

Emma felt Jo grip the cup tighter.

“Of course,” Jo said.