Except me, Jules thought, her heart racing. Vivian seemed to believe what she was saying. She probably did. She’d married three men, and she hated being wrong. “Then what do you want from me that you’re not already getting?”

Vivian sighed. The incredible intensity had vanished from her eyes, and now she appeared resigned. “Your companionship.”

Companionship, which was apparently not the same thing as friendship. Jules had been an English major who’d also taken a queer studies class, and she had an idea of the distinction Vivian was drawing.

She cleared her throat. “Let me understand this: you’re suggesting I find another job so you and I can be…uh…romantic companions?”

It wasn’t like Jules had never heard of such arrangements before. People got together in all sorts of combinations. This just wasn’t a combination she had ever imagined for herself.

Vivian folded her hands. “Well put, Julia. Better than I was putting it, anyway. I know it sounds unusual.”

That’s one word for it. “Yeah, that’s what it sounds like, but what does it look like? What do you imagine us as, if we’re not, you know…” She gestured back and forth between their bodies as if that was supposed to imitate passionate sex.

Vivian leaned against the back of her stool and crossed her arms. “Did you enjoy Christmas dinner?”

It took Jules a second to figure out that Vivian wasn’t asking about the quality of the turkey. “I did,” she said slowly. “I really did.”

“And sitting in a bar with me?”

“That was pretty awesome,” she admitted.

“And accompanying me to places where you, as my assistant, weren’t expected to be? Lunches and dinners?”

“You made me do that, and it was stressful.” Hey, Vivian wanted honesty. “But under other circumstances, it would’ve been nice. I think I’d like that a lot.”

“I think you would too. And I—” Vivian took a deep breath and met Jules’s eyes. “I might as well just say it. You’re good company. You’re a good writer. You’re intelligent. I like having you around. I…eventually realized that I want to have you around all the time.” She scowled. “You want to talk about being embarrassed? Going home early all those days so I could rest and wishing you were coming with me? That was embarrassing.”

Really? The whole time Jules had hated watching her leave, Vivian hadn’t wanted to go? It seemed impossible, incredible. “I wanted to go with you too.”

“There!” Vivian slapped her palms against the counter, looking triumphant. “That’s what I’m talking about. I wouldn’t want that from a friend, much less an assistant. And if you want the same thing—”