Archive of Our Own

Emily had never known what it was like to be jealous.

She had known what it looked like on the men she used to date, on the guy who she used to be married to. She had learned to watch out for any telltale signs.

The first time she noticed it was in the man she used to date in 2008. He had been fussing about how he had never been introduced to any of her co-workers and that Emily barely shared anything about her line of work.

Emily had seen no point in it. The guy had no fashion sense—he wore flannel and cargo pants unironically, for God’s sake—but he had been pleasant enough otherwise. Always clean shaven, with a good haircut, and no excessive body hair as far as she was concerned. So she conceded, settling for an after-party because bringing a date to a gala where she had to tend to everything Miranda needed would be career suicide.

Of course, she wouldn’t let him step into the occasion without picking out the perfect suit for him. A simple black tuxedo with gold cufflinks to match her gold jewelry. It was subtle enough, well-fitted in the way that her colleagues would approve without assuming that he had any interest in fashion, to avoid unnecessary conversations.

By the time they arrived at the party, Emily’s hand linked around his as she introduced him to some people. To Serena, Nigel, and just anyone who happened to cross paths with them at the party. It had been fine; he knew how to crack jokes and keep up with conversation. He knew when to keep his mouth shut, too, which admittedly was a fairly rare quality to find in a man.

That is, until a French photographer Emily hadn’t seen in a long time made his way to them. He greeted Emily in the over-the-top way French gay men seemed to do a lot: a hand on her waist,and a kiss to both of her cheeks. He launched into a ramble about how dull the latest Fall cover of another magazine had been. Emily immediately laughed at his snide remarks. She did always think that he matched her humor perfectly. While most people seemed to recoil at her snarky comments, he had always laughed along with her.

And maybe it was the fact that his hand had stayed on her waist, or the fact that Emily was delighted to have the company of this evidently gay man, that caused something to stir within her boyfriend. By the time the photographer seemed to realize that they had company, his jaw was already set. Emily had no time to introduce the two before she was harshly yanked away, a pathetic excuse she couldn’t even remember uttered under his breath.

Emily was taken out of the party. His iron grip stayed on her upper arm all the way until they were outside, his nails starting to dig way too hard against her skin. She told him that he was hurting her, and only then did he seem to come into his senses, pulling his hand away in shame.

There was a wild look in his eyes. His chest rose and fell quickly. He tried to calm down, smoothing his hair back as he took a deep breath. He told her they should go home, and with how erratic he acted, Emily could only nod in agreement.

They hailed a taxi and stayed quiet for the rest of the ride. Only when they arrived in front of Emily’s flat did he start talking. He told her that he didn’t like how touchy he was, how he deliberately ignored his existence, and especially how she seemed to genuinely have a great time with him. He told her she could never do that again—letting a man do that to her—because that would make her a slut.

Though the words had stung, she remembered scoffing at that, which seemed to agitate him more. She waved a dismissive hand, telling him that he was gay and that he didn’t have anything to worry about. He lashed out thinking she was lying, started yelling at her in the middle of the street. He didn’t know when to shut up after all, so Emily ended the relationship right then and there.

That was Emily’s first encounter with jealousy. She thought of it as an unpleasant emotion. Entirely irrational. She had thought it would be the last time she had to deal with it.

She later learned that men feel jealous a lot. Their ego would be bruised any time another man so much as be pleasant towards her. The worse thing was they always made it seem like the attention was her fault and that she deliberately fished for their attention somehow. Most of the time, it would always result in name-calling and explosive arguments that led to either days of radio silence or a break up.

After encountering those moments often enough, she became rather tired of having the same pointless argument. So, she learned.

She learned to spot the signs of jealousy rising before it was too late. She learned that the first sign was the firm, possessive grip against her arm, shoulder, or waist. The second was their eyes growing colder, jaw clenching, paired with a forced smile. The last, and by this point it would have been too late to deescalate, was interrupting the conversation, often in a mocking tone, often ending up in a fight of some kind.

She learned to deescalate it with a few well-placed affection. A hand to their chest. A kiss to their cheek. Anything to show that she was with this guy. That she was his.

So Emily might not be familiar with feeling jealousy, but she knew it to be ugly and violent. She was grateful that she had never felt it. She hoped she would never feel it.

The first time she felt jealous, Emily and Andy hadn’t even been dating.

It happened during one of their Friday Night meetups, months into their newfound friendship. Andy had wanted to try a new speakeasy bar. While it wasn’t usually Emily’s scene, being friends with Andy had opened her up to new experiences.

The bar had been pleasant enough. They played soft, jazzy music instead of the usual pounding music of other bars. But it was loud enough to require them to sit closely together. So they sat next to each other, huddled together, shoulders almost touching. Andy told her stories excitedly, and Emily appreciated the fact that she didn’t have to yell over the music just to get her point across.

From that distance, Emily could see everything. The way Andy’s eyes lit up when she talked about a feature article she was working on. The way her eyebrows would furrow and her lips would twist in a comical way as she imitated an annoying colleague. The way her hands continued to move animatedly as she talked. And the way the excessive movements caused a strand of her hair to fall down her face.

Emily reached over before her mind could catch up, fingers absently moving to tuck it behind Andy’s ear. It made Andy pause midsentence, her brown eyes wide and smile tugging on her lips. She was looking at Emily in that way, with awe, wide-eyed amusement.

Emily felt her cheeks heat up. She quickly retracted her hand, averting her gaze and uttering out a snappy. “What?”

It didn’t sound like it had any real bite, even to her ears. Andy must’ve thought so too, because her smile only grew wider. Real grin, all teeth and giddiness, the way it did when she first interviewed her in the new Dior flagship, “Nothing! It’s just—”

“Excuse me,” a waitress came just in time to cut her off, a cocktail in her hand. “I have one Negroni for you.”

“Oh,” Andy’s smile dropped for a second, she turned towards Emily. “Did you order this? Because I didn’t.”

Before Emily could answer, the waitress quickly added. “Oh, this was sent to you by that man over there.”

She made a move to point across the room, at a man sitting at the bar. He seemed tall. Blonde, sitting upright in a way that screamed cocky confidence. Emily realized he had been watching the entire interaction with the waitress unfold, because he stood up as soon as the waitress pointed at him.

As he walked over, Emily could see that he had a smirk on his face. When he was close enough, the smell of his cologne invaded their space. A hint of sandalwood, and some spice, but with a twinge of alcohol found in cheap perfumes. Emily knew well enough that he wanted to imitate the smell of a high-end cologne without the actual means to.

The waitress set the glass down on the table, then turned to leave in time to make space for him. He leaned over the table, entirely ignoring Emily and setting his attention to Andy.

Something low in Emily’s stomach started to churn. Slow, barely noticeable. But there.

“You look like a gin kinda gal,” he said, still with that obnoxious smirk. “Am I right?”

“Far off, actually,” Andy said, leaning back against her chair and crossing her arms across her chest. “I’m more of a whiskey girl.”

“Ah, that’s too bad,” he took the glass of Negroni in his hand, then sipped the contents of it. “Let me buy you another one, then?”

Emily held back a scoff, knowing that it would only draw unnecessary attention towards her. He seemed like a volatile man; He certainly wouldn’t appreciate being mocked.

“You know I have company, right?” Andy tilted her head towards Emily.

As if finally realizing her presence for the first time, he slowly turned towards Emily. His eyes scanned her, disinterested. He forced out a smile, turning back towards Andy. “How about I buy you both a drink then?”

Andy seemed to consider the offer, pursing her lips in thought. The stir in her stomach grew more insistent now, churning wilder and growing hotter.

“How about this–sorry, what’s your name?”

“Mike,” he, Mike, thrusted out his palm, expecting a handshake.

“Right, Mike.” Andy repeated, leaning over the table closer to him and firmly taking his hand in hers. Emily clenched her jaw at the display, the heat spreading across her body. “How about we do this some other time, just the two of us? Let me give you my number.”

“Sweet,” As if he just won a grand prize, Mike grinned widely, ear-to-ear, all teeth, and just repulsive. He fished into his pocket, pulling out his phone and giving it to Andy. “Put your digits in, baby.”

Emily physically cringed at the pet name, even if Andy appeared unbothered. She realized that the brunette really was typing something into his phone. The heat flashed hotter now. Emily couldn’t quite put it as annoyance or anger. She couldn’t believe Andy was giving this fraud of a guy any chance at all.

With a smile, Andy handed back his phone. “Call me later?”

“Of course, baby,” he pulled his shoulders back, triumphant that he got what he wanted. “You ladies have a great night.”

Emily and Andy watched as he left the table, sauntering back to his seat at the bar.

By the time he was out of their earshot, the redhead immediately downed her drink in one gulp, trying to ignore this unexplained, evergrowing heat she felt tingling all over her body.

Andy followed suit, groaning as soon as she finished hers. She then slumped forward on the table, head resting against her folded hands.

“What a pretentious asshole,” she heard Andy mumble out. Then she peered up at Emily, brown eyes finding hers through the mess of her own hair. “He wouldn’t leave otherwise, though.”

Emily scoffed, the heat and churning returning tenfold. She couldn’t dull the edge of her tone if she wanted to. “So, what? You sacrificed yourself for the greater good by giving him your number?”

Andy sat up then, a confused look on her face. “No, silly. I didn’t actually give him my number. Not even my name.”

Emily ceased all movements. Her eyes found Andy’s, watching carefully as they shifted from confusion to disbelief.

“You thought I actually gave him my number?!”

“Andrea.”

“I should be offended!” Andy faked a dramatic gasp. “You don’t think my standards are that low, do you?”

“Well, you did date Peter.”

“Oh, so rich coming from the woman who dated Benji Barnes.”

That earned Andy a playful smack against her shoulder. Andy was giggling in response, clearly finding the whole thing amusing. The weird churning feeling had started to settle then, slowly dying down into nothing.

“Well, I’m just glad you weren’t foolish enough to give that man a chance,” Emily said, trying to appear nonchalant as she smoothed down the nonexistent crease on her skirt. “I’m rather famished now. Can we find something to eat elsewhere?”

Andy smiled that silly, goofy smile, then nodded. “Sure, Em. Where do you want to go?”

And even as they left the building and made their way down the street, Emily still hadn’t figured out that the insistent feeling she felt low in her gut was jealousy.

The second time it happened was so ridiculous, Emily found herself cringing every time the memory conjured itself inside her head.

It happened during the New York Fashion Week, soon after Coach’s portion of the show was over. She was satisfied with how everything had panned out. She had various colleagues and connections tell her as much, too.

Out of the corner of her eyes, she could spot Andy and Nigel approaching her, arms looped around each other. She quickly wrapped the conversation, nodding and smiling politely before bidding them farewell. Just as the two reached her, she turned her full attention towards them.

Admittedly, Emily had always found a bit of comfort in Andy’s presence in one of these big events. Andy would always make time to drift towards Emily. If not to talk, just to squeeze her hand in passing, always been a reassuring force for Emily.

So yes, she had been looking forward to talking to Andy all evening. She could barely wait to have her company. She just wasn’t prepared to see Andy, specifically how great she looked.

Andy was wearing a powder blue boxy chore jacket, with a dark brown corduroy collar, paired with a pleated brown mini skirt, cutting just above her knees. The rest of her lean, long legs were covered by knee-high leather boots. To top it all off, she accessorized well. A structured brown baker boy cap with gold chain was sitting atop of her head, slim sunglasses framing her face. A Coach shoulder bag is hanging loosely on her shoulder.

Andy looked so stunning that it nearly knocked the breath out of her.

“Ah, someone is impressed by the way you look,” Nigel said, amusement lacing his voice. Emily realized a little too late that she was gaping, her throat going dry. She could swear Andy’s eyes twinkled behind those dark shades. “Lovely Fall collection you put together, Red.”

She cleared her throat, straightening her shoulders and pulling the corners of her mouth into a polite smile, “No snide remarks. I appreciate that, Nigel.”

“Ah, I’ll happily give credits when it’s due.”

“I believe you’re to be credited for Andy’s look today, then?” Emily asked, raising her eyebrow at Andy.

Andy took off her sunglasses, making a face at Emily.

“I wish,” Nigel chuckled. He made a sweeping gesture at Andy, from her head to her toes. “This was all Jin’s doing.”

“Jin? Andy’s former assistant Jin?” Emily asked, a little taken aback and unsure. She had barely heard Andy mention her. The Junior Reporter had only come up in a handful of conversations, mainly just in passing and never anything worth nothing. Emily hadn’t realized that they were close at all.

“Yeah, I kinda called her in a panic yesterday, so she came over and helped me put this together,” Andy did a dramatic twirl to show off her entire outfit.

And usually Emily would find it a little silly and amusing, how Andy would always pull out all the theatrics no matter the setting. But instead there was that churning, low in her stomach.

Because why would Andy call Jin? While she worked at Runway, surely Andy had much more fashionable friends. Emily, for instance. She could’ve called Emily to help her with her look. She wouldn’t mind spending her night brainstorming the perfect look with Andy. And she surely could suggest her better looks. She's a Senior Executive at Coach, for God’s sake.

Or Nigel. He could also do a great job.

But it was Jin Chao instead. A girl Emily knew nothing about. A girl who Andy was apparently close enough to call up during a fashion emergency. A girl who Andy apparently trusted enough to give her address. And worse of all, Emily knew nothing of the extent of their relationship.

The churning grew more insistent, paired with an intense twist in her chest.

“I didn’t realize you two were that close,” came out of her lips before she could stop it, bitter and unpleasant, that it caused Nigel’s eyebrows to shoot up and Andy’s face morphing into confusion.

Nigel waved at someone across the room. Emily was fairly sure that there was no one waving him over. “If you’ll excuse me.”

As Nigel left in haste, Andy drew in closer. Emily hated how it only took Andy a couple of long strides to reach her. Hated to admit that despite this sudden bitterness she was feeling, she still thought Andy looked gorgeous.

“What’s that about?” Andy asked, genuine concern in her voice.

“You look great, by the way,” Emily tried, maybe a little flattery would make her drop the conversation.

But this was Andy, so she pressed with a gentle, “Em.”

“It’s nothing!”

“Well, something’s clearly bothering you and I’m not leaving til you tell me.”

Emily groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. That twist in her chest was still present. She still felt agitated, though she couldn’t really understand why. Maybe it didn’t hurt to talk about it? Maybe she would understand after talking to Andy about it.

“You are going to laugh at me, because it does sound a bit silly.”

“When have I ever laughed at you?”

“A lot of times, Andy.”

“I’m always laughing with you, not at you.”

“Oh, like the time when I accidentally dyed my hair green? I remember not laughing and yet you were rather hysterical about it.”

“Okay, that was one time.”

“And that time I accidentally ate your special cookies and panicked.”

Andy snorted out a laugh at the memory, “To be fair, you only had a bite of my edibles but you acted like you were gonna get coked out, Em,” Emily narrowed her eyes at her, but Andy seemed to be immune to her glare at this point. She simply stared at Emily with that impossibly soft gaze of hers—warm eyes and infinite patience “Just please tell me, I won’t laugh.”

Emily let out a long breath, rubbing her clammy hands against her dress. “Well, I just thought it weird that you didn’t think to call me with your fashion emergency. I thought I’m your…”

Best friend? Close friend? Why does saying it feel a bit gooey?

“Pal,” she settled.

Understanding dawned on Andy’s face. She didn’t laugh; she simply processed what Emily said. There was that crease between her brows—earnest and thoughtful, in the way Andy always was. The twist in her chest started to cease, so did the churning in her stomach. Andy was taking her seriously.

“I get that. But you have to understand, I think you already have a lot on your plate, having to oversee all this,” Andy gestured blindly. Emily understood that she meant the event itself. “And I didn’t want to add anything on your plate. Especially with something as trivial as picking out what to wear to this event.”

Emily wanted to say that nothing about Andy was ever trivial to her. But she bit her tongue. She had exceeded her gooey quota of the day.

“And besides,” there was this sheepish look on Andy’s face now, her hand moved to rub the back of her neck. “I wanted to look my best for your event, you know, as a surprise.”

It was Emily’s turn to feel confused.

Andy was evidently familiar with her expressions, because she immediately added, “You know, I just wanted to look proper for your first big event. Like, I wanted to impress you.”

And maybe it was the way Andy avoided her gaze as soon as she finished her sentence. Or maybe it was the way she wrought her hands together in that way she always did when she was nervous, that made Emily’s heart skip a beat.

Was Andrea Sachs feeling shy?

Which could also mean nothing! So, Emily did what she did best.

Ignore it. Don’t think too much of it. Move on.

“Well, you do look fantastic,” Emily finally said, touching Andy’s shoulder. Andy looked up at her with those big, brown eyes; they were practically sparkling at the praise. Emily’s heart did that silly little stutter yet again. “Certainly a much better upgrade than when you first stepped into the Runway office.”

Andy playfully rolled her eyes at that, “You can’t ever give a compliment without reminding me of my horrid past.”

“And you wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Andy simply gave her a smile that told her that was exactly the case.

The third time it happened was a little after they started dating. It was the first time Emily dared to put a name over the feeling.

Emily had heard that Andy finally hired a new assistant, after letting the position vacant for months. Frankly, Emily couldn’t comprehend how she survived those months without an assistant, considering how insane her workload and responsibility was.

Though it may have been helpful that Jin was so thorough with her work, she already had a Google Calendar set up of all the appointments and meetings Andy was gonna attend months in advance. So even if she no longer worked as Andy’s assistant, she had made Andy’s life easier.

(Emily had also gone out with Jin a couple times at that point. She thought she was pleasant to be around, definitely just a dear friend of Andy’s.)

Emily knew that Andy had been gearing up for the September issue, so she had been busier than usual. Andy had a habit of simply relying on caffeine and crappy instant ramen for fuel during these critical times, so she decided to stop by and buy her an actual lunch. She had a meeting near the Elias-Clarke building, anyway.

The ascent up was familiar; she had spent years of her life in this building. It also wasn’t the first time she had visited Andy during work hours. The first time, she was admittedly terrified of running into Miranda, and if there would be any conversation that would follow about her… betrayal.

But Miranda was Miranda. She passed by her in the hallways, gave her a quick glance, but made no effort to acknowledge her in any way. As if she was a fleck of dust that happened to just fly by. An insignificant material in her path.

The elevator dinged, announcing her arrival at the Runway office. She stepped out, smiling at the receptionist at the front desk. Her feet took her to the familiar path to Andy’s office.

Just as she passed the entrance, the sight of Nigel and Amari greeted her.

“Oh if it isn’t Emily Charlton,” Nigel said in greeting. “To what do we owe this office visit from Coach?”

Emily rolled her eyes. “It is lunch time, Nigel. I am not here for a business meeting.”

“Ah, on a quest to see the lone princess in the isolated tower then?” Nigel dramatically took a step back, making way for Emily in the narrow hallway. “I’ll have you know, she’s busy.”

“Yes, Nigel. I’m not here to take her away from her work, only to take her for lunch.”

“Mighty prince. Chivalry isn’t dead,” Nigel said, already walking past Emily with Amari tailing after him. He gave her a small pat on her shoulder, playful and warm, as if he approved of whatever she was doing. Emily couldn’t help but bite back a smile.

She continued her way deeper into the office, until she eventually arrived in front of Andy’s office. Emily immediately frowned at the sight before her.

Beyond the glass of Andy’s office, she could see her seated on her chair, deep in thought as she constantly switched between the papers in her hand and her laptop. She had that scowl she always had whenever she was deep in thought, the one that caused a deep crease between her brows. The one Emily always poked whenever she was around.

It wasn’t her that was an issue. It was her new assistant. Tall, slim, blonde, beautiful, and young. Much younger than them.

Her hands were firm on Andy’s shoulders. Even from this distance, Emily could see the way her fingers moved, kneading the muscles there. Something hot and sharp coiled in her chest, close to annoyance—no, anger.

Because who gave a massage to her new boss, just days into the job? She certainly never gave Miranda a massage. She booked her appointments with a masseuse, like any professional assistant would.

Before her mind could catch up, her feet had already taken her across the halls terrifyingly quick. The click of her heels echoed behind her, before her hand pushed open the door to announce her arrival.

Andy looked up from her work, her entire face immediately lighting up. The sight did help soothe the heat flaring in her chest, but it immediately returned upon seeing that the assistant’s hands had remained on her shoulders.

“Emily, hi!” Andy exclaimed, standing up to greet Emily. A sense of satisfaction, petty and childish, washed over Emily as the assistant’s hand fell limp on her sides. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

“Yes, Andy. You don’t have any appointments until 4 PM,” the assistant said, rather unhelpfully. Emily noted that she had called Andy by her nickname, making the heat in her chest flare and curl into something else. Possessive.

And yes, Emily knew it to be ridiculous. Andy had always introduced herself as Andy Sachs, rarely ever Andrea Sachs. So it wasn’t like the nickname was reserved for her.

Emily didn’t like feeling like this, didn’t like the way the feeling spread down to her stomach, the way it made her feel sick. She fought against the urge to say something sharp, clenching her jaw.

Andy, ever so sweet, and admittedly a little lovesick, simply beamed at Emily, “It’s okay, she can come by whenever she wants.”

Emily could’ve sworn she saw a flash of disappointment on the assistant’s face. What is even her name? Why hasn’t Andy introduced them?

“Will she be joining us for lunch?” Emily could see right through her smiling, polite facade. There was visible tension on her shoulders, impatience lacing her tone “I’ve ordered your favorite.”

And it’s the way she said it, with a sense of unearned familiarity. The way she wasn’t even addressing Emily directly—like she wasn’t in the room with them—caused that feeling to settle and take root inside her. It rose up her chest, fast and hot, threatening to spill past her lips.

Emily realized this was jealousy. She bit her tongue hard before she could say anything she would regret.

“You can go ahead and have lunch time to yourself, Stephanie,” Andy turned to her assistant, looking apologetic. Okay, so at least she knew her name now. “And go ahead and cancel that order, I’m so sorry.”

The assistant, Stephanie, frowned. Oh how lucky that she was working for Andy, not Miranda. “Why cancel a perfectly good meal?”

Andy laughed, warm and bright. “Because my girlfriend being here must mean she wants to take me out for lunch, right?”

Emily couldn’t help the lurch of her heart at being referred to as her girlfriend, in front of the girl who was so clearly trying to flirt with Andy. Or at the very least suck up to her. The sharpness in her chest dulled; she became acutely aware of the warmth replacing it instead. The fondness that is only reserved for Andy.

At her silence, Andy’s expression grew uncertain. ”Unless this is actually work related?”

Emily had to physically shake her head out of her trance, clearing her throat. She made sure to school her expression, offering her a reassuring smile. “No of course not, darling. I’m here to take you out for lunch.”

“Darling?” a smile spread across Andy’s face, wide and infectious. Emily found that a smile had started blooming on her face too, along with the surely blooming crimson on her cheeks. “I quite like that.”

“Oh, don’t go all gooey now,” she uttered despite herself, quickly trying to change the topic to save herself, “Shall we, then?”

“Yes,” Andy looped her hand around Emily’s, because Emily wouldn’t be caught dead initiating any physical contact in public. She started leading Emily out the door, barely looking back at Stephanie as she said, “I’ll be back by one!”

Emily chanced a glance back, past her own shoulder, and found the sight of Stephanie looking like a kicked puppy. She felt a slight pity for the girl. But mostly, she felt triumphant that the assistant was finally put in her place.

The fourth time it happened, Emily finally saw what jealousy looked like on Andy.

It all happened rather fast. They had only planned to stop by for a coffee on their way to a double date with Lily and her husband. Andy was especially in need of one after pulling an all -nighter, hyperfocused on an article she had been writing.

Emily had insisted that Andy should just wait in the car. She argued that Andy was sleep-deprived and needed as much rest as she could get if she were going to survive socializing for the next few hours. Reluctantly, with an exaggerated pout, Andy sat back on the passenger’s seat, dramatically noting that while she was grateful, she felt like Emily was just looking for excuses to get away from her.

The redhead simply rolled her eyes, kissing her cheek before leaving the car and making her way into the coffee shop.

To her relief, the coffee shop was rather vacant. She immediately made her way to the register, catching the attention of the barista behind the counter.

The barista was a woman, probably in her late 20s. She was tall, with brunette hair and tattoos going up her right upper arm. She was pretty, Emily noted, with wide brown eyes that reminded her of Andy’s.

She paused when her gaze found Emily’s, gaze lingering a second too long before she cleared her throat and flashing a warm smile “What can I get for you today?”

“A large iced Americano, please,” Emily said, already moving to find her wallet inside her purse.

“Can I get your name?” the barista asked, moving to write on the cup.

“Emily,” she said, offering a polite smile under the barista’s expectant gaze.

“Coming right up, Emily,” the barista said with a wink, putting emphasis as she said Emily’s name.

While making the drink, the barista asked if she was in a rush. And because she was, Emily said yes. The barista had chuckled, saying that she was lucky that she came just as the rush had died down. Emily made a joke that maybe the crowd dispersed as soon as they felt her intimidating presence. The barista laughed like it was the funniest thing she had heard all day.

It wasn’t long until she finished making the drink. She handed the drink to Emily, her finger brushing lightly against hers “The only thing intimidating about you is your beauty.”

Emily raised an eyebrow at that. Was that a pick up line?

The barista flashed another smile. “Don’t forget your napkin. Have a great day!”

She plucked out the napkin from the barista’s hand, a little taken aback and admittedly, confused. Emily turned on her heels and left the building without another word.

By the time she made it back to the car, Andy was already sitting up, expectantly waiting for her with a smile. She immediately reached out for her drink as soon as Emily entered the driver’s seat, making grabby hands—evidently a little of Roark had rubbed off on her.

“Alright, darling, here’s your coffee and napkin because you have a habit of making a mess.”

“I do not,” Andy said defensively, gently taking the cup and napkin away from Emily’s hand. “Thanks, baby.”

Emily simply hummed in acknowledgement, moving to wear her seatbelt and to immediately pull out of the parking lot. According to her own mental clock, they would need to speed a bit if they were going to make it in time to the restaurant.

So she focused on pulling out of the parking lot, while Andy was focused on her own beverage.

She made the mistake of swerving too quickly, though, and could see Andy spurting her drink out in the corner of her eyes.

“Sorry!” she immediately exclaimed.

“Em!” Andy complained. Emily glanced to see that none of the coffee had stained her nice blouse, thank god—it was simply dripping down her chin. “People would think you’re the one who’s sleep-deprived.”

“I made one mistake and you’re on my neck,” Emily huffed. Despite the complaint, she reached over to grab the napkin on Andy’s lap, handing it out to her girlfriend. “Luckily, I brought the napkin with me.”

Emily focused back on driving soon after Andy took it out of her hand. She expected Andy to launch into a ramble of how she was the better driver but instead, she was silent. Her hand still hovered mid-air, the napkin in her hand.

She was quiet. Far too quiet.

“What is it?”

“Who is Amber?” Andy’s voice didn’t come out harsh. It sounded level, calm, almost professional. Emily had heard it before, during her interviews, when she was trying her hardest to remain objective about the subject of her interview.

“Who on God’s green earth is that?” Because Emily genuinely didn’t know anybody named Amber.

“I don’t know,” Andy said, her voice faltering by a fraction. “but apparently she wants you to call her.”

Emily’s mind flashed to the wink, to the brush of fingers, and to the definitely pick up line. With the realization, she sighed “The barista.”

Emily didn’t have to elaborate more, because Andy immediately understood. Her tone remained impassive, as if she was making a passing comment about the weather. “Ah, so the barista was flirting with you.”

There was a beat of silence. Andy’s hand remained still. Emily could sense that she was reading what was written on the napkin over and over again.

“She wrote you a message on this napkin, you know.”

Emily truly didn’t care. She offered a hum of acknowledgement and kept her eyes trained on the road ahead.

But Andy remained silent, as if waiting for Emily to respond.

“What does it say?”

They were approaching a crossroad, the traffic light ahead lighting up red. Emily pressed on the brakes and looked over at Andy expectantly.

Andy’s gaze immediately caught hers. She batted her eyelashes once, then twice, before she started dabbing the coffee on her chin with the napkin. Emily watched as the liquid seeped into it, smudging the ink thoroughly, obscuring whatever was written on it.

Emily knew it to be a deliberate move, because Andy’s grin was nothing short of satisfied. Her tone was cheery when she finally said, “Doesn’t matter now! You can’t really read it.”

And if the light hadn’t turned green up ahead, Emily would’ve kissed her.

Instead, all she could do was snicker and turn her attention back to the road. Andy’s hand immediately found hers, before bringing it up to her lips to kiss the back of her hand. Emily bit back a smile.

She had an inkling that Andy was jealous, and for once in her life, she had found jealousy to be cute rather than ugly.

The fifth time it happened, it was in the grocery store.

Soon after they began dating, Andy had insisted that she should come with her to go grocery shopping. She had said it was the best way to get to know her routine and her children’s preferences. Emily would argue that it was just an excuse to spend more time with her.

Not that she was complaining.

And so that Saturday, while waiting for Bronwyn to finish her ballet class, she takes Roark and Andy to go grocery shopping with her.

Roark is always ecstatic to have Andy around, mainly because she’s always eager to listen to him ramble about his recent interests. Lately, he had been successful in getting Andy to play Fortnite with him. Now, Emily would often find them playing together after getting off from work. It turned out to be rather a hassle, because instead of just Roark, Andy is also now trying to get her to play Fortnite with them.

Fortnite aside, Roark is now evidently excited for a mere grocery store trip with Andy. He is talking animatedly about the snacks he wants to try, and Andy is listening with rapt attention. Out of the corner of her eyes, from the driver’s seat, she could see Andy googling the nutritional fact of the snack Roark has just mentioned.

“Slow down, buddy, I think the one you mentioned has peanut butter in it,” she says afterwards. “So none of that for you, unfortunately.”

“Aw, man!” he sighs in defeat, slumping in the backseat.

Emily tries to find his eyes through the windshield mirror. “We’ll find other snacks for you, alright, Love?”

“Okay,” Roark says, sporting a pout on his lips.

Their arrival at the grocery store is a well-rehearsed routine. Emily finds a parking spot as they walk into the building. Emily gets the cart, Andy pulls out their list, and they shop. Sometimes, Emily and Andy would divide and conquer—like today, when Andy decides to be in charge of food stocks.

So they go their separate ways, with Roark staying with her as she shops for hygiene needs and cleaning supplies. With her angel of a son helping her load the items into the cart, the matter is done quickly. They make their way to the food section of the grocery store to find Andy.

Emily makes sure to scan the perimeter to locate Andy. However, she freezes as soon as she finds her by the dairy section, talking to a man she immediately recognizes as Peter.

She can tell that Andy wants to leave; she makes a move to step back but Peter makes another step to match her. His hand reaches out to grab on Andy’s wrist, and the familiar heat flared inside Emily’s chest, her grip tightening around the cart handle.

Emily can see him take another step towards Andy. And considering their past—considering how insistent he’s being to her Andy—she decides that enough is enough.

“Roark, Sweetheart?” She calls for her son. Roark immediately turns toward her, her perfect little boy who is always ready to hear his mum out. “Why don’t you look for that snack now and find Mummy when you’re done?”

He squealed, already skipping away. “You’re the best, Mummy!”

She watches as Roark turns to the snack aisle, squatting down to look at the snack options. After she makes sure that Roark isn’t straying away, she takes decisive steps towards the pair. She allows the simmering heat to spread across her body. She allows herself to be fully immersed in the seething anger she used to hate.

She decides on a script in her head. She knows what to say, how to time it, and how to play it out. And when she’s finally close enough, she sets the cart to the side and approaches them gracefully.

Emily’s hand finds Andy’s waist, fingers curling in a way that demands attention from Peter. She makes sure that Peter’s eyes are on her before she says, “Darling, Roark needs your help–”

Then, comes the time for her to pretend to be surprised by his presence. She interrupts herself, eyes finding Peter’s. She makes a show of pursing her lips in distaste, gaze moving down his body, then up, deliberately sizing him up. She purposely stops her gaze at his hand around Andy’s wrist, arching her eyebrow.

“Peter. I see that you are still self-centered as ever, practically holding a woman against her will.”

She feels Andy’s shoulders shake. Emily’s unsure if she is holding back laughter or not. She watches Peter’s face drop, his hand going slack then falling down to his side.

It was a little amusing to see him try to regain any semblance of confidence. He clears his throat, offering her a polite smile. “Emily, isn’t it? What a surprise to see you here with Andy.”

Emily makes a dismissive gesture with her hand, clicking her tongue. “It shouldn’t be a surprise considering I’m Andy’s girlfriend. But you wouldn’t be inclined to know that, would you? I’ve heard of your tendency to make everything about yourself, after all.”

And that positively makes Peter gape, a look of hurt passing on his expression. His gaze goes to Andy, back to Emily, then back to Andy.

Andy shrugs from beside her, she can picture her girlfriend sporting a look of polite sympathy. “I’ve been trying to tell you I’ve moved on, Peter. You wouldn’t stop talking.”

“I’m–” he starts, shaking his head and taking a step back. He just looks mortified now. “I’m terribly sorry–”

Emily nods solemnly, “You should be.”

“Emily, I’m–”

“Mummy! Andy! I found the snack!”

Peter stops himself at Roark’s voice. His gaze slowly shifts towards her son, probably skipping his way towards them. Peter looks back at Emily, his lips pressed into a thin line and an apologetic look in his eyes.

Emily gives him another once-over, making sure that he sees the look of utter disdain she has for him, before turning to Roark with a smile.

“What did you find, sweetheart?”

She feels Andy’s hand around her waist, faintly hears her bid farewell with a polite now if you’ll excuse us. She can feel Andy subtly ushering them away from the dairy aisle.

A sudden sense of dread washes over her. She briefly wonders if that was too much. If Andy is ashamed at all.

“I don’t know if it’s any good, though,” Roark says with a thoughtful expression, walking backwards “What do you think, Andy?”

Andy plucks it out of his hand, eyes scanning for the nutrition fact. She makes a face, then shows it to Emily. “I think you can’t eat this at night, bud.”

“Oh this sugar level is diabolical. He won’t be able to sleep a wink,” Emily huffs under her breath, only for Andy to hear. She puts it into the cart anyway, smiling tenderly at Roark, “Just promise me you’ll only eat it on the weekends.”

“Okay!” he exclaims happily.

“Now let’s pay for everything, shall we? We should be picking up your sister soon.”

Roark nods then skips towards the register, Emily and Andy tailing not too far behind him.

As soon as Roark is out of hearing range, Andy starts. “So, you were jealous.”

It’s not said in an accusatory tone; it’s said with amusement. Emily turns her head to properly look at Andy.

She’s trying hard to bite back a smile. Her cheeks are dusted pink and her eyes are wide, expectant.

Emily realizes she loves this. She loves knowing that Emily is jealous.

It startles her, because she practically lashed out. Jealousy has always been an ugly emotion in her book. 

Maybe it helped that Emily doesn’t direct her frustration and anger towards Andy. Or the fact that Peter honestly deserves what was coming for him.

But Andy is here, looking at her as if she has done a grand, romantic gesture. 

Andy must’ve sensed Emily’s confusion, because she continues: “It’s cute. And a little hot. You truly put him in his place.”

Emily’s cheeks grow warmer at that. “You cannot possibly be serious.”

Andy chuckles, leaning in until her lips brush against her ear. Her voice drops an octave lower, with a sultry edge. “Baby, if Roark wasn’t here, I’d drag you to the nearest restroom and remind you that I’m yours.”

Emily feels the tip of her ears growing hotter, a shiver running down her spine.

She clears her throat and decides to ignore Andy entirely, pushing the cart to catch up with Roark, who has started running around as he waits for them by the register. “Roark, sweetheart, what did Mummy say about running?”

She hears Andy laughing to herself as she follows her from behind.

Epilogue:

“Who was that man talking to Andy?” Roark asks as soon as they make it back into the car.

Emily and Andy share a glance. Andy is about to open her mouth, before Emily quickly says: “Nobody for you to worry about, Sweetheart.”

She makes sure to say it gently, her tone neutral. Andy nods as if she approves of her response.

“He looked scared,” Roark muses, eyes trained to the roof of the car as if he is deep in thought. “Like, really scared. It looked like he was about to pee himself. Did he see a ghost?”

Andy clamps a hand over her own mouth, trying her best to hold herself back from laughing. Emily glares at Andy, who clearly isn’t in the best condition to help her navigate this situation.

“He didn’t see a ghost, Sweetheart.” Emily says, focusing on the ghost bit instead of addressing the Peter situation of it all. “Ghosts aren’t real.”

“Why was he scared, then?”

God fucking damn it. Children and their curiosity. It won’t kill the cat but with the rate this conversation is going, it will kill her.

“He wasn’t scared, Buddy,” Andy finally speaks up, after taking a few breaths to calm herself. Her hand finds Emily’s, squeezing lightly. “He was just sad, and really sorry, because he made your Mom upset.”

“Oh okay,” Roark says, from the rear-view mirror, Emily can see him nodding to himself.

This surely is the end of the conversation, right?

“I don’t think he was sad, though. I know Bronwyn gets scared whenever Mummy is upset.” he pauses, then adds, “It is scary, Andy.”

If Emily wasn’t driving, she would deliberately hit her head against the steering wheel.