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Jinny looked up. “Under a J. Crew catalog in your bedroom. It’s like you wanted me to find it.”
“Well, I didn’t.” Esther dropped her laundry and walked over to snatch the script out of Jinny’s hand.
“Hey!” Jinny stood up and grabbed it back, shaking it at her in accusation. “Why didn’t you tell me about this?”
“Because it’s nothing.” Esther picked up her laundry basket and carried it into the bedroom. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”
Jinny followed, right on her heels, still shaking the script at her. “This is not nothing.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” Esther set her laundry on the bed and went to the closet for hangers.
“This script is about you.”
“Yes, I know.” Esther concentrated on sorting her laundry. She didn’t want to be having this conversation.
“He captured you so perfectly, it’s freaking uncanny. Who knew the guy was such a good writer?”
Esther didn’t say anything.
“Esther.”
“What?” When she looked up, Jinny was frowning.
“Jonathan wrote a whole screenplay about you and how much he loves you.”
Esther’s eyes skated away guiltily. “It’s not that big a deal.”
“It’s a big deal. You didn’t tell me he was in love with you.” Her tone was accusing, and a little hurt.
They hadn’t talked about Jonathan much when they’d had their heart-to-heart. They’d talked around the subject a lot, but not directly about him. Jinny had assumed Esther’s hookup with him had been nothing more than a drunken one-night stand, and Esther had avoided disabusing her of that notion.
“Because he’s not.” Even if he had loved her, he didn’t anymore. It was a moot point.
“Clearly, he is. This Emily character is totally you, and the character professing his love to her is totally him. You don’t write something like that about someone you’re not in love with. You don’t give them a copy of it unless you want them to know.”
Esther grabbed one of her work shirts out of the basket and shoved it onto a hanger. “It’s fiction.”
Jinny let out an exasperated breath. “I know you’re not that naive. Are you seriously in this much denial?”
“It doesn’t matter. We’re finished. He doesn’t want anything to do with me anymore.”
Shaking her head, Jinny sank down on the bed next to Esther’s laundry basket. “I can’t believe I didn’t see it before.”
“See what?” Esther focused on matching up socks, refusing to look Jinny in the eye.
“I thought you were acting weird about Jonathan because of me, but it wasn’t about me—it was about him. You really like him, don’t you?”
Esther stared at the socks in her hand. “It doesn’t matter,” she said again.
“Yes, it does. Tell me the truth.” Jinny was using her stern principal voice. There was no denying her when she used that voice.
“I did like him,” Esther admitted finally, her voice coming out thin and wobbly. “I do.”
“Esther!” Jinny grabbed her arm, beaming at her. Her face glowed like one of those sun lamps for seasonal affective disorder.
Esther winced. “What?”
“You’re in love!” Jinny said, beaming even brighter. Where did she get all that light from? It defied the laws of physics.
