Count Your Lucky Stars (Written in the Stars, #3)(13)

Olivia waved and immediately wished she hadn’t. How utterly dorky. “Good night.”

Margot’s lips twitched upward in a barely-there smile before she turned and disappeared down the hall. Her door shut, and Olivia slumped back against the couch.

What a day.

Not that it had been all bad. It certainly could’ve been worse. She and Cat could’ve been sleeping in a hotel or a sleeping bag on her coworker Kira’s floor. Even her car. She would’ve only been able to swing any of those options for a few days while diligently hunting for a new apartment. Had that not panned out . . .

She probably needed to let Dad know that she was living somewhere new. Not that he was likely to mail her anything, but he might. Stranger things had happened.

“Livvy, hey,” he answered on the first ring.

“Hi, Dad.” She picked at the label of her beer. It was soggy, easy to peel at the corners. “Now’s not a bad time, is it?”

Dad huffed. “Never.”

A pleasant ache radiated behind her breastbone. In the background, she could hear what sounded like the television. Football, probably. “So. Do you remember Margot?”

“Margot?” He hummed quietly. “Used to eat all our food?”

“Dad.” She laughed.

He chuckled. “What about her?”

She nudged her beer bottle further from the edge of the table and leaned back against the couch, tucking her feet under her. “I’m kind of living with her now?”

“How do you kind of live with someone?”

She rubbed her eyes. “It’s a . . . It’s new. I was just calling to let you know I have a new address. I’ll text it to you, okay?”

“Is everything okay, Liv?”

Her throat chose the worst possible moment to grow impossibly tight. “Mm-hmm. I’m fine. Everything’s fine.”

Dad went quiet. “Are you okay on money, because I don’t have much, but I can send you—”

“No. I’m good. It’s just been a long day. There was a plumbing problem at my old apartment; that’s why I moved. I’m—I’m really fine. I promise.”

Dad hmmed over the line. “You sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.” She forced a laugh. “I’m actually doing really well, otherwise. Lori’s letting me take point on a wedding, and it’s—it’s a really big deal, Dad.”

“Good for you, Liv. I’m sure you’re going to be great.”

Cat hopped off the other end of the couch and stretched, letting out a sweet, contented-sounding meow. At least one of them was feeling right at home.

“Enough about me. How are you? When’s your next doctor’s appointment?”

“Next Tuesday, I think. Or Wednesday, maybe? I’ve got it written down somewhere.”

Written down somewhere. All she could do was shake her head. “Speaking of writing things down, how’s your food diary going? You are still keeping up with it, right?”

Dad grunted. “Mm-hmm.”

Yeah, that sounded promising. “Dad.”

“I am. Honest.”

“And you’re filling it out properly?”

Left to his own devices, Dad would subsist on a diet of pork rinds and TV dinners laden with enough sodium to float a brick.

Dad chuckled. “It amazes me how you manage to hover from a hundred miles away. It’s a talent, really.”

“You’re exaggerating.” She smiled. “It’s only fifty miles.”

“I’m fine. I’m doing everything the doctor asked me to. And I’m even working fewer hours, okay? You worry too much.”

She worried the right amount. A heart attack was nothing to joke about, even a mild one.

“I’m glad you’re working less. That’s a relief. Stress isn’t good for you.”

Dad gave a soft grunt. “Why don’t you leave the worrying to me, okay? That’s my job. I should be worrying about you.”

“And like I said, you don’t need to worry about me. This wedding could be huge. If I pull this off, Lori’s going to promote me. That means a raise and more events and—this is what I came here for.”

Event planning. Turning other people’s dreams into a reality, bringing them to life. That was what Olivia wanted.

“How’s everything else going up there?” He coughed. “You, uh, meet anyone?”

“Dad.”

“I just want you to be happy, Livvy.”

She could be—she was. She was doing just fine on her own. Just fine. “I’m good.”

“Must be nice at least, having a familiar face around now,” Dad said. “Margot.”

Nice wasn’t quite the word she’d pick. Dizzying, maybe. Definitely surreal.

“Mm-hmm.” She pulled her phone from her ear and checked the time. “Look, I should I let you go. I’m pretty beat.”

“All right. Love you, kid.”

“Love you, too, Dad. Talk soon.”





Chapter Four





What Cocktail Should You Order Based on Your Zodiac Sign?

Aries—Dirty Vodka Martini

Taurus—French 75

Gemini—Long Island Iced Tea