Count Your Lucky Stars (Written in the Stars, #3)(73)

A knock sounded against the door. Not the one that led out into the hotel hall, but the door adjoining her room to Olivia’s.

Margot tried to swallow, her mouth suddenly dry. She stole a stuttered breath in, air whistling between her lips. “Come in.”

Olivia poked her head into the room. In the time since they’d returned to the hotel, she’d changed into a pair of leggings and an oversized hoodie. The arms were too long, slipping past her wrists and over the back of her hands, hiding all but the tips of her fingers. She shoved her sleeves up to her elbows and shut the door, leaning against it, leaving the entire room between them. The space felt larger than it really was. “Hey. How are you doing?”

Awful. Better now that Olivia was here.

Margot sniffed and shrugged, dropping her gaze to the embroidered coverlet folded at the foot of the bed. “You know. Been better.”

“Your foot?” Olivia shoved away from the door, approaching the bed where Margot lay, three pillows behind her back keeping her propped up, another stack keeping her foot elevated. “How’s it doing?”

Margot pressed her lips together, offering a wry smile. “Hurts like hell. Looks even worse.” She sat up, adjusting the pillows, wincing at the sharp twinge that traveled along the side of her foot from her pinky to her ankle. “Gnarly, right? I took two extra-strength Advil and am hoping they kick in sometime this century.” She snagged a spare pillow from beside her and hugged it. “But I think Luke’s assessment was right. It’s not broken. I can move it, it just hurts like a bitch when I do. I guess it’s only badly bruised.” She bared her teeth in a grimace. “Same as my pride, apparently.”

Talk about feeling like a complete idiot. Not only had she wiped out, but she’d done it publicly, in full view of a dozen skiers. Olivia and Luke had had a front-row seat, and granted, she’d been more focused on the pain that anything else in the moment, but she had a vague recollection of several small children pointing at her. Yikes.

Olivia nibbled on her bottom lip. An hour after their kiss and Margot would swear she could still taste the buttery sweetness of Olivia’s vanilla-flavored ChapStick.

“Why would you do that, Margot?” Olivia asked. She shook her head slowly. “I mean, no offense, but you are terrible at skiing.”

“I—”

“The worst.”

Margot pursed her lips. It was on the tip of her tongue. Not everyone can be perfect at everything like Luke, but that would’ve taken bratty to a whole new level, even for her. Jealousy and insecurity had gotten her into this mess in the first place, leaving her with a swollen foot, bruised pride, and a tender heart.

Maybe it was time to try something new. Take Elle’s advice. Be honest.

“There isn’t a chance we could put a pin in this conversation and circle back around in, say . . . a few days?” she joked.

Olivia didn’t laugh. Her teeth sank into her bottom lip, no longer nibbling, but biting down on it outright. Her lashes fluttered with every rapid blink, the skin around her eyes turning pink. “Do you realize how scared I was?” Her voice broke and Margot’s chest splintered open. “Watching you hit that barrier? Not knowing if you were okay or hurt or—”

“I was fine, Liv.” She gestured to her propped-up foot. “A little bruised, and I’m going to have to limp down the aisle on Saturday—no heels for me, un-fucking-fortunately—but I’m fine.”

Olivia sniffed hard and scrubbed the side of her hand under her eyes. “I didn’t know that. How was I supposed to know you were fine? I saw you careen down a hill, collide with a barrier, and collapse. My mind went to the worst places, but can you blame me?”

Margot hugged the pillow tighter, chest panging with remorse, a sharp stab between her ribs that stole her breath for a split second. She hadn’t meant to make Olivia worry, to give her any cause for concern. Hurting Olivia was the last thing she wanted, right up there with losing her.

Collapse might’ve been a bit of an overstatement, but what had Margot told Elle this morning in the gift shop? Not to underestimate Margot’s ability to catastrophize? Margot could definitely relate, imagining the worst possible scenarios, watching them play out inside her head.

Contradictory to the ache in her chest, her stomach fluttered. The timing was completely terrible, but the proof that Olivia cared about her enough to get choked up made Margot hope that maybe all of her worst-case scenarios were as far-fetched as Elle had guaranteed they’d be. The way Olivia had kissed her at the base of the slope, trembling hands cradling her face, was the first sign. This was the second. Now all Margot needed was confirmation.

“I’m sorry, Liv. I didn’t anticipate crashing. Who would? You can’t see something like that coming.” She swallowed hard, the analogy hitting a little close to home, making her pulse flutter wildly inside her veins, nerves turning her stomach queasy. “You and Luke made it look so easy, and I was doing great on the bunny slope.” When Olivia’s brows rose, her expression calling bullshit, Margot amended, “I was doing okay on the bunny slope. I figured I knew how to stop at least.” But it was different, stopping after gaining that much speed. “I just . . .”

Saw Luke with his hands all over Olivia, watched her put her number in his phone at the top of the taller slope, saw red, didn’t think. Naturally, Margot was a competitive person. At the time, it had made perfect sense to push herself a little harder, put the skills—she was being generous, in hindsight—she’d acquired to the test. Prove that she could be every bit as athletic as Luke, as desirable as Luke. She wasn’t proud of it, but that’s where her brain had been at, what had driven her to ride that people mover to the taller slope before she was ready.