Count Your Lucky Stars (Written in the Stars, #3)(29)

Margot winced. Shit. “Um, what was the question?”

Everyone chuckled, Olivia included, her laughter ringing out like a bell, pretty and sharp. Margot’s heart stuttered then sped. It was difficult to get up in arms about being made fun of when Olivia’s smile made her eyes brighten.

“You care, but you don’t know what it is you care about?” Darcy’s brows rose.

“I personally think it’s a testament to my boundless capacity for caring, that it’s not even a prerequisite knowing what it is I care about.”

Darcy grinned. “And I personally think it’s a testament to your ability to bullshit that you were able to say that sentence with a straight face.”

Across the table, Olivia pressed her fingertips to her mouth, stifling her smile.

“Fine, you caught me. I spaced out for a second.”

Margot tossed her napkin down beside her plate and slouched back in her chair, ankle accidentally brushing against Olivia’s beneath the table. Olivia’s whole body twitched at the contact, her eyes flitting up, gaze locking on Margot’s. Whoops. Margot slid her foot away and Olivia broke eye contact, dropping her eyes to the table. A few seconds later, Olivia’s foot bumped up against Margot’s and didn’t move.

Margot swallowed hard. Okay. She was officially Victorian-era-level horny if a—potentially?—accidental game of footsie was making her sweat.

None the wiser, Brendon smiled. “Cake flavors, Mar. You got a preference?”

“They were all pretty tasty,” she hedged, not wanting to put her foot in her mouth and perform a repeat of the time she’d told Brendon—gently—that “At Last” by Etta James wasn’t, in her opinion, the right choice for his and Annie’s first dance.

That was the song you dance to when you’re . . . you’re fifty or on your second marriage. Brendon was younger than Margot, only by a year, but still. At last his love had come along? Sure, he’d crushed on Annie long before they got together, but come on. He hadn’t waited that long.

They’d selected a different song, a song that was a much better fit for them in the end, but Brendon had been bummed. The last thing Margot needed was to inadvertently insult his or Annie’s favorite flavor in the name of being honest.

Margot shrugged. “Can’t go wrong with any of them.”

Unless they picked lavender honey or coconut or—ew—pistachio. Cake was supposed to taste like cake, not like the ingredients in a DIY face mask or potpourri. But, hey, it wasn’t her wedding, and the last thing she wanted was for someone to accuse her of being anything but supportive. She’d force down a whole slice of lavender-pistachio-coconut grossness with a smile on her face if it kept her friends happy.

Across the table, Olivia stared at Margot dubiously.

Brendon shrugged. “Huh. Okay.” He turned and looked at Annie. “Um—”

“Margot likes the peanut butter chocolate,” Olivia said, smiling. “She’s always been a sucker for that combo.” Her eyes dropped to Margot’s empty plate, the one where the peanut butter–chocolate petit four had been before Margot had devoured every last crumb, almost licking the plate before ultimately deciding that would’ve been rude. “I guess some things don’t change.”

Her body didn’t know what to make of that; her chest went pleasantly warm, touched by the sentiment, but a tendril of heat slithered down, pooling low beneath her belly button, affected by the way Olivia’s voice had lilted, almost flirtatious.

“Yeah?” Brendon sat up straighter. “You liked that one?”

Margot nibbled on the edge of her lip. She had . . . but not as much as she’d liked watching Olivia enjoy the pink champagne cake.

“Maybe you should stick with something less likely to pose an allergy risk,” Margot said. “I liked the pink champagne cake, too.”

“That’s a good point,” Annie said. “About possible allergies. I wasn’t even thinking that, but you’re completely right.”

“You could do extra cupcakes,” Olivia suggested. “One layer cake, so you have something to cut for photos and so you can save the top tier for your anniversary, if that’s a tradition you want to follow. Or, instead of cupcakes you could have a separate groom’s cake.”

Brendon cringed. “No groom’s cake. It makes me think of the red velvet armadillo cake in Steel Magnolias.”

Margot shivered. “Please, no.”

“No red velvet, either,” Darcy said, wrinkling her nose. “It’s pretentious chocolate.”

“And you don’t like it?” Margot teased. “Color me surprised.”

Darcy’s eyes narrowed, lips twitching at the corners. “Cute.”

“I try.” Margot flipped the ends of her hair.

Olivia grinned, eyes flitting around the table. “No groom’s cake. And no red velvet. This is good. We’re narrowing our options down.”

“Cupcakes do sound nice,” Annie mused. “We could have more flavors that way, too. Make picking a little easier.”

“So, peanut butter chocolate for some of the cupcakes,” Olivia said. “And—”

“Pink champagne,” Margot blurted, the image of Olivia tonguing her fork baked into her brain.