Count Your Lucky Stars (Written in the Stars, #3)(41)

God, Olivia was so stupid. Getting her hopes up . . . over what? Sex? She should’ve learned her lesson the first time. That sex didn’t mean everything, didn’t necessarily mean anything. Eleven years later and she was none the wiser, repeating history.

Margot didn’t want her, not all of her. And Olivia couldn’t even be angry. Margot hadn’t promised her anything. Olivia had just assumed. And she couldn’t say anything. Margot was her roommate, they lived together, and Olivia was planning her best friend’s wedding. All complications that should’ve kept her out of Margot’s bed, but Olivia had wanted her so desperately she’d thrown herself at Margot, thinking—

Wrong. She’d thought wrong, and now she had to suck it up.

She needed this wedding to pan out. She needed this apartment. She—God . . . she wanted Margot.

She knew what it was like, not having Margot in her life. She’d lived that and—she didn’t want to go back, didn’t want to go through that again. Olivia refused to erase the progress they’d made, sacrifice their friendship all because what? Because she couldn’t have everything she wanted?

Everything she wanted. Olivia swallowed hard. Now that was a fairy tale. No one ever got everything they wanted, certainly not her, at least not in her experience.

She couldn’t have everything, but maybe she could still have this. Margot as a friend, maybe something more, and maybe one day—

No, Olivia wouldn’t indulge that desire. If she let it blossom, bloom, she’d get her hopes up and . . . this was good. This could be enough. She could be happy.

Something with Margot would always be better than nothing.





Chapter Eleven




Elle (9:57 p.m.): MARGOT

Elle (9:58 p.m.): !!!!

Elle (9:58 p.m.): ??????

Margot (9:59 p.m.): Are you okay?!

Elle (10:00 p.m.): <image attachment>





Oh.

Oh, wow.

Margot’s breath caught as stared at a slightly blurry selfie of Elle and Darcy beaming at the camera. In it, Elle had her hand held up in front of her, displaying a dazzling round-cut diamond that gleamed brightly from her ring finger.

Margot’s phone rang, and she took a deep breath, smiling when she answered because she’d read somewhere that people could pick up on that sort of thing in your voice. “Hey—”

A piercing screech made Margot wince and tug the phone away from her ear.

“Did you see? Did you see it?” Elle demanded. “Margot! I’m engaged!”

A genuine laugh escaped her. “I saw it, Elle. Congratulations!”

Elle let loose a softer, slightly more subdued but equally as joyful squeal. “Darcy took me up to the observatory and it was—God, Mar. It was perfect. And this ring! Oh sweet Saturn. Darcy said she wanted to get me my birthstone, but apparently amethyst isn’t very durable. Something abouts a Mohs’ scale? I don’t even know. But then she found this! The halo’s shaped like a star, and get this—the band is inlaid with actual meteorite. From fucking space.”

Margot chuckled at Elle’s out-of-control enthusiasm. “It sounds perfect, Elle.”

“It is, it really is.” Elle gave a happy-sounding sigh. “Darcy’s on the phone with Brendon right now, and I know I should’ve probably called my parents but . . . you’re the first person I wanted to tell.”

A knot formed in Margot’s throat, the backs of her eyelids stinging. “I’m glad you called.” She swallowed before her voice could crack. “I’m—like I said, I’m so happy for you.” She laughed. “Fuck. I mean, damn, Elle. You’re engaged.”

Engaged to be married. Holy shit.

Margot’s bedroom door inched open and Cat peeked inside. She inspected her surroundings with curious sniffs as she wandered further into the room, detouring to Margot’s closed closet door and smacking it with her paw. When it didn’t budge, Cat headed over to Margot’s bed. Margot tucked her feet up under her and frowned when Cat let out a demanding little trill.

“Margot?”

“Sorry.” She cringed. “I, um, got distracted. You were saying?”

“I asked if you’ll be my Maid of Honor, silly.” Elle laughed. “Darcy’s making faces at me—hold on.” The line went muffled, Elle’s voice distant. “Sorry, Darcy says I should’ve asked you in a note or a gift box or something.”

“Oh!” She pressed the heel of her hand into her chest as if she could massage away the ache inside. “I, uh, don’t need a gift box.”

“I could buy you a box of wine?”

Margot laughed. “I won’t say no to wine.”

“So?” Elle asked, sounding impatient but mostly just eager.

“So of course.” Warmth bloomed between her ribs. “I’d be honored.” Her lips quirked. “Ba-dum-tss.”

Just like she’d hoped, Elle chuckled. “I’m glad. Oh, this is going to be so great. It’s March, and obviously nothing’s set in stone, but Darcy and I were thinking about a winter wedding, so that would mean . . .”

Cat crouched low and leaped onto Margot’s bed, landing gracefully on all fours, the duvet barely depressing beneath her weight, which was made of mostly fur and sass. She stomped around, pawing at Margot’s pillows before stopping directly in front of Margot.