Maybe that conversation was the reason. Maybe it was the pure glee on Jo's face as she tapped her foot to the bluegrass music concert they'd gone to.
Maybe Edith's patience just finally wore out.
Whatever it was, sitting in Jo's car outside her own apartment building, she found herself saying instead of goodnight, "Do you want to come up? I've got ice cream."
Jo's expression tipped into almost exaggerated surprise for a moment, but she rallied fast, turning the engine off and reaching into the backseat for her jacket. "I've always said every good evening should end with ice cream."
They walked up the two flights of stairs to Edith's apartment in a silence that really didn't help her suddenly churning stomach or her nervous, hummingbird thoughts.
They could just have ice cream, she rationalized. It had maybe sounded a bit too much like a come on for just friends, but she knew Jo would accept it if she gave a clear signal that the evening would be over after ice cream. Just because they hadn't ever been to each other's apartments didn't have to mean anything. They'd been friends for the better part of two months. It was about time they extended it out of the purely public arena.
