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When Emily walks in the door, she can hear Andy laughing. Not the polite simpering little laugh that the guy down at the bodega will sometimes get when he makes a comment about her makeup or the way she’s chosen to wear her hair, or the throaty laugh that Charlie might earn with one of his terrible jokes and that Emily herself longs to hear far more than she would ever admit. No, this one is pitched high and girlish, the way Andy sometimes laughs when she thinks she’s getting away with something, trying to edge herself away from Emily before Emily can sigh and pout it out of her. No, this is almost…dare she say? A giggle.
Emily frowns, her fingers still lightly curled around the sides of her jacket even as it dangles from the hook by the door. She tilts her head, listening. She can’t hear another voice, either an answer to Andy’s laugh or whatever is prodding her into that…that giggle. She drops her bag onto the couch and toes off her shoes, walking through the house toward the sound of Andy’s voice. She’s in the office, the door open, and first Emily can only see Andy’s shoulders and the long curtain of her hair as it flows between her shoulder blades. Then, a voice, tinny and faraway and there’s a slightly pixelated face to match on the laptop open on Andy’s desk.
It’s Leighton van Pelt, the ridiculous fortune and good looks she’d inherited from her family at least doing their utmost best to match the ridiculous name. Seeing her face on the screen tickles at the back of Emily’s brain, rooting a memory buried beneath layers of distraction -the invoices she’d been combing on her phone while pretending not to look at the curve of Andy’s wrists as she’d rubbed serum into her cheeks, skin still flushed pink from the warmth of the bath, her fingers moving in a bewitching dance that had left Emily feeling more than a little flushed herself. Andy, mid-skincare routine, explaining how she would be interviewing Leighton van Pelt about a new charity she’d started. Elephants or orphans or…some such thing, who can even be bothered to remember?
But here’s Leighton van Pelt now, making Andy laugh from some bougie glamping set up in the Congo or wherever she’s planted herself. Emily frowns before she can remind herself to school her face, lest Andy ask what she’s willing to risk wrinkles scowling about.
Not that Andy has so much as glanced over her shoulder. Instead, she’s just grinning, writing something in the notebook open beside the screen. “I can’t believe you actually managed to get them down from there,” Andy chuckles, shaking her head.
“I know! It was completely-”
Emily clears her throat. Politely.
Pointedly.
Andy looks over her shoulder, face brightening. “Em. I didn’t hear you come in.”
“I suppose not,” Emily demurs, gaze flickering toward the screen. Leighton van Pelt. Who wears designer khaki to…well, to be fair she isn’t entirely sure where the woman is at the moment but Emily is certain her wardrobe is trying far too hard.
Andy beckons to her, an absent curve of her fingers even as she’s already angling back toward the laptop. Emily goes anyway, because she is nothing if not polite. To the screen, Andy says, “Leighton, you remember Emily, right?”
Emily. No superlatives or further explanation. Just…Emily.
Just Emily presses her lips together.
On the screen, Leighton beams, jerky and pixeled. “Oh, right, Emily! Of course!”
“Leighton was just telling me about the nonprofit she’s been working on to facilitate the building of new school buildings in parts of the Global South,” Andy says, her hand reaching for Emily’s and giving it a tug like they’re children on the playground. “The initiative is creating so many opportunities for different areas.”
Well isn’t that just lovely. On the screen, Leighton certainly seems pleased with herself. “It’s all been very exciting.” She pauses, a small smile on the corners of her lips. “How’s…Dior, is it?”
Emily sniffs, refusing to stoop to answer. Instead, she just keeps her focus on Andy. The connection is spotty, surely she can’t be expected to listen to every word out of Leighton’s mouth, is she? “I’ll be in the kitchen.”
“Okay.” Andy nods, her fingers falling from Emily’s wrist. She turns back to the screen, already eager to resume her conversation.
Well then.
In the kitchen, Emily puts the kettle on, the sound of Andy’s continued interview drifting in from the office. Punctuated, of course, by that occasional giggle. Honestly how much laughter can one interview possibly require? It all seems a bit unprofessional. She’s met Leighton van Pelt before at the occasional gala and fund raising event and, well, she’s not that funny.
By the time the kettle has come to boil, Andy is still in there yapping away. Emily takes down a mug from the cabinet and then, after a moment, takes out a second mug. She fixes Andy’s tea exactly as she prefers it, wrapping both her hands around the warming mug as she heads back toward the office. Andy is leaning back in her hair, a grin on her face, running a hand through her hair so that it falls back from her face in curtains. The heat from the mug seems to spread throughout her entire body suddenly.
“Here you are, darling,” Emily says, leaning close enough that Leighton can see her on the screen. She makes sure to press into Andy, shoulder to shoulder, her chest what Emily hopes is an enticing distance from Andy’s field of vision. “Thought you might need this. You’ve been at it quite a while.”
Andy takes the cup, seeming surprised either by the gesture or Emily’s close proximity. Though it doesn’t escape Emily’s attention how the bridge of Andy’s nose seems to pinken. “Thanks.” She sets the mug aside, seemingly oblivious to Emily’s huff of breath.
Though Andy is already turning her focus back to Leighton, Emily lingers, making sure that the delicate strands of her perfume tickle Andy’s nose, her bare arm brushing against Andy’s shoulder. “Perhaps you should-”
“I’m just finishing up here,” Andy says at the same time, an apologetic smile on her face. “Leighton’s schedule is packed so we gotta fit this when were we can.”
“Of course.” Emily straightens, clearing her throat. Even Leighton in her stupid outfit, thousands of miles away, looks amused and a little too triumphant at Emily’s inability to coax Andy away from her computer.
Without further comment, Emily lifts her head and leaves the office. Her own cup of tea no longer seems enticing in the slightest. Instead, she heads up the stairs toward the bedroom. What she needs is a bath. Yes, that’s right, a bath. A nice, warm, relaxing bath…and a bottle of wine, perhaps? And several closed doors to prevent her from hearing Leighton’s inane comments and Andy’s laugh.
If only the sound of the water thudding into the tub could make it easier to forget that Leighton is also getting the benefit of Andy’s smile and Andy’s attention and hell where is that bottle of wine?
As the tub fills, Emily studies herself in the mirror. Lipstick fresh and impeccable. She lifts her chin. Quirks an eyebrow. Nary a hair out of place. Flawless, if she does say so herself.
Far more enticing than pixels on a screen. If someone where to keep score about that sort of thing.
Emily has yet to actually make any moves toward disrobing and sinking beneath the steaming water filling the tub when she hears the bedroom door creak as it opens. Andy’s voice proceeds her, unsurprisingly; the woman does enjoy a good chattering on.
“Sorry I wasn’t planning to still be in the middle of that when you got home.” Andy flops down on the bed, legs hanging off the side. “We just got to talking and everything was just so interesting, there didn’t seem to be a good stopping point.”
Emily hums, walking over to the tub to switch off the water.
“This new program Leighton has started is just going to do so much good and provide so many opportunities that just didn’t exist before,” Andy continues, further input on the conversation entirely unnecessary. “What she’s doing is just so interesting. Leighton is in the trenches, actually getting hands on with the building and the hiring of all the teachers and she’s just got all these crazy stories you should’ve heard them.”
And then Andy laughs again, purely thanks to the memory of Leighton van Pelt’s wonderful and amazingly entertaining jungle stories.
Emily turns to face her, crossing her arms. “Sounds far more important and exciting than your lovely girlfriend’s drab and insignificant day at Coach.”
Andy sits up, a surprised expression on her face. She lips part slightly, no doubt to immediately rush to reassure Emily that all of her stories are equally as important and fascinating, but rather than contrition, her expression slowly shifts to one of amusement.
“Wait.” Andy tilts her head, a smile toying at the corner of her lips. “Are you…” She stands, moving toward Emily with that smile only growing. “Are you jealous? Of Leighton?”
Emily scoffs, rolling her eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
That ridiculous, annoying smile stays rooted firmly in place. “You are. You’re jealous.” She reaches for Emily, but Emily waves her hands away, stepping around her and toward the window ledge by the tub where they keep the bath salts and essential oils. “It was just an interview.”
“Perhaps I didn’t want to come home to find my girlfriend all wrapped up in some…interview.” Emily sniffs, shaking lavender powder into the water.
Andy comes up behind her and this time Emily doesn’t ignore her efforts, allowing Andy to slip her arms around her waist, pressing her body to Emily’s back. It’s annoying, really, how effortless it all is. How Andy just magically manages to make her body forget its frustration, even while her feelings still try to cling stubbornly to the feelings of indignation. But her muscles seem to care little for the slights that have been done to her, relaxing against Andy the second Andy’s breath ghosts the side of her neck.
“Did you have a bad day?” Andy asks, the words brushing against the crook of her neck as Andy uses a palm against Emily’s stomach to move them closer together.
“No.”
Andy just smiles and Emily can feel herself melting, surrendering, the smells of lavender and the warmth of Andy’s body making her heady. “Do you want to tell me about it?”
“No.” Emily forces herself to move, to turn around to face Andy, lifting her eyebrows. “Surely it won’t be as interesting as-”
“Oh stop,” Andy chides, grinning, shaking her head. Her hands cup Emily’s cheeks, cradling her face, pulling her closer. “You know you’re far more interesting than Leighton van Pelt.”
Emily turns her head away just as Andy’s lips brush hers, an impressive force of willpower if she does say so herself. “I’m sure you have a feature to edit-”
In spite of her previous determination, Emily doesn’t protest when Andy readjusts the angle of her face so that their lips meet properly. Emily feels like she can hardly be held responsible for the way her body leans into Andy’s, deepening the kiss. It is a very persuasive argument.
“Offer is still on the table to tell me about your day,” Andy murmurs in between another kiss or two. Her eyes drift past Emily’s shoulder, her chin lifting slightly as she glances pointedly toward the tub. “Looks big enough for two…”
The warmth currently radiating from her chest downward is making her thoughts sluggish, her skin prickly. It takes Emily a minute to remember exactly what Andy is even talking about. But she swallows, nodding, allowing Andy’s fingers to curl around the loops of her slacks. “Yes. I suppose.”
It would be a shame to waste a perfectly good bath. And Emily has clearly made her point. After all, she quite obviously has Andy wrapped around her finger.