Count Your Lucky Stars (Written in the Stars, #3)(42)

And staring.

“Mar? Are you still there?”

Margot sighed. “Yeah, I’m so sorry. I am. I’m just—this cat keeps staring at me and I don’t know if it’s a friendly stare or an I want to eat your face look.” Margot had woken up at four in the morning to the unsettling feeling of being watched. She’d rolled over, and sure enough, somehow Cat had found her way into Margot’s room, Margot’s closed room, hopped up onto Margot’s bed, lain down, and proceeded to purr like an engine. Whether that meant Cat was warming up to her or simply studying her, lying in wait for the right moment to attack, Margot had no fucking clue. “But I’m totally listening.”

Elle went quiet before clearing her throat. “Are you sure you’re okay? You sound a little . . . off.”

Off. Fuck. Margot dropped her head into her hand and swallowed a sigh. The last thing she wanted was for her—her weirdness and messy, all-over-the-place feelings to get out. She was dealing, working through them. Talking to Olivia had helped, but Margot wasn’t going to magically feel less like her friends were leaving her behind, and it definitely wasn’t going to happen overnight. It was going to take time and, honestly, seeing proof that just because everyone was getting married didn’t mean everything would change.

For Elle’s sake, for the sake of their friendship, Margot needed to pull her head out of her ass, stat. “You want to know the truth?”

Elle sucked in a sharp breath. “Hit me with it.”

“Darcy already told me she was planning to propose. She pulled me aside and told me after the cake tasting, so—so that’s why I sound off. I was trying to act surprised, and you know me, I can’t act for shit.”

Elle laughed, obviously relieved. “You had me worried for a second. Geez. Okay, I can see that happening. So you’ve known since Saturday?”

“Mm-hmm.” Margot scratched her jaw, eyes flitting to Cat and away. Cat kept staring, little head cocked slightly to the side, her small body forming a squat triangle as she sat. Her front paw reached out, patting the bed in front of Margot’s knee, and she meowed. Margot frowned. “Look, I absolutely want to chat more about this, okay? Maybe when we’re up at the lodge tomorrow for the bachelor-bachelorette trip, yeah? We can sip spiked cider and you can tell me all about it. Right now, I’ve got to figure out what this cat wants.”

“Good luck.” Elle snickered, then gasped. “Wait! Do you think Olivia could help with our wedding?”

Cat meowed louder, stomping closer, getting all up in Margot’s space, stepping on Margot’s socked feet with her front paws.

“Um, I don’t see why not. You should definitely ask her.”

“Okay, you go take care of your catastrophe.” Elle chuckled at her own joke. “I’ll talk to you later, ’kay?”

“Later.” Margot ended the call and tossed her phone down beside her with a groan. She looked at Cat and frowned. “How do you think I sounded? Pretty convincing?”

Cat sneezed.

Huh.

“Okay, whatever that’s supposed to mean.” Margot sighed. “I am happy for Elle, you know? I’m just . . . conflicted. Which is normal, I guess. I just need to—to get a grip. Pull it together. Because that’s what good friends do.”

Cat cocked her head, whiskers twitching. She patted at Margot’s leg—claws mercifully retracted—and meowed.

If only she knew what the cat was saying—oh, wait. She’d downloaded an app, the one that apparently translated cat-speak into English. It sounded suspect, the science behind it pretty much nonexistent, but there was no harm in trying.

Margot opened up the app and hit the record button.

Cat stared at her, silent.

“Meow?” Margot tried.

If she wasn’t mistaken, she could’ve sworn Cat’s eyes narrowed, judging her.

“Come on. Now you want to be quiet?”

She closed the app with a sigh.

Almost immediately, Cat gave a soft, kittenish-sounding mewl.

“You’re kind of an asshole, you know that?” Margot smiled. “It’s okay. I can be a little bit of an asshole sometimes, too.”

Cat’s tail swished from side to side. She stood, stretched, then hopped off Margot’s bed, sauntering across the room. She stopped just shy of the door and looked back over her shoulder, giving a sharp, insistent meow that made it clear she wanted something.

Margot sighed and stood. “What is it? Did Timmy fall down the well?”

Cat’s eyes narrowed into green slits.

Yeesh. Tough crowd. “Okay, to be fair, I’ll admit that a dog joke might’ve been in poor taste. But most of my cat jokes are in equally poor taste, so it was kind of a lose-lose.”

With a swish of her tail, Cat left the room, looking back once, as if making sure Margot followed.

Instead of turning left toward the living room, Cat went right, turning the corner into Olivia’s room. Margot’s footsteps faltered.

Because of Cat, Olivia kept her door open at all times, even when she wasn’t home. Like now. Olivia was downstairs in the basement, doing a load of laundry.

Cat gave another sharp screech, looking at Margot as if wondering what was taking her so long. Assuming that’s what that cat wanted. Margot didn’t know. It was all a guessing game.