Count Your Lucky Stars (Written in the Stars, #3)(8)

Speak of the devil. Olivia returned, looking pale-faced and wan, her phone clutched tightly in her right hand. She stopped just inside the room and cleared her throat. “Hi. I’m really sorry, but I’m going to have to bail on dinner. Something came up, and I have to go take care of it.”

Margot frowned at the way Olivia’s voice quivered. She opened her mouth to ask if Olivia was okay, but stopped before she could voice the question. It wasn’t her business.

Brendon didn’t have the same reservations. “Is everything all right?”

Olivia started to nod before the move morphed slowly into a shake, her head swerving. “I just got off the phone with my landlady. Apparently there was a—a problem with the plumbing in the unit directly above mine that caused the bathroom to flood. My ceiling is . . . The damage was pretty extensive, I guess, and they’re going to have to bring in fans so mold won’t set in, and after, they’ll have to replace the joists and the . . . I guess the drywall or plaster or . . .” Olivia shut her eyes. “I’m not even really sure. It was a lot to take in.”

“Jesus,” Margot muttered. That sounded like a nightmare.

“I’m imagining you’ll have to find somewhere else to stay,” Darcy said, face pinched with concern.

Olivia nodded. “I guess the integrity of the ceiling is questionable. It’s leaking and . . .” She laughed, frazzled. “It’s a mess.”

Annie pressed her fingers to her lips. “Oh, shit.”

Brendon raked his fingers through his hair. “Did they say how long the repairs are going to take?”

“No. My lease is month-to-month.” Olivia’s bottom lip started to tremble, and she quickly pursed her mouth, a dozen little dimples forming in her chin. “I have a feeling I won’t be moving back in any time soon.”

A sharp twinge of sympathy shot through Margot’s chest.

“I’m sorry,” Olivia blurted, batting at the air. “Geez, you don’t want to hear about this. This is—this is not your problem. I’m, um, I’m just going to go—”

“Do you have somewhere you can stay?” Brendon’s eyes flitted to Margot, then back to Olivia. “A friend’s place, maybe?”

What.

No.

Shit.

Olivia’s eyes went glossy, welling with tears. “I’ll figure something out.”

Margot’s stomach dropped.

Fuck.

Brendon turned, his brows rising pointedly, managing to communicate plenty without him having to open his mouth to say a thing. I’ll figure something out wasn’t an answer. Or, it was, just not the one Margot had been hoping to hear.

Clearly, whether Olivia was willing to admit it or not, she was in need of a place to stay and Margot . . . fuck her life . . . Margot had a spare room. All her friends knew she had a spare room. And as far as they also knew, she had no reason not to offer it up to Olivia . . . the girl she knew from high school.

An old friend.

Nothing to tell was swiftly coming back to bite her in the ass.

Margot swallowed a groan because, fuck, she was probably—no, definitely—going to regret this. It was a catastrophe waiting to happen, but she couldn’t not offer, not when Olivia was standing there, close to tears but refusing to let them fall, putting on a brave face instead.

It was so typical of her, of the girl Margot once knew. Olivia was so quick to blot everyone else’s tears, to serve as a shoulder to cry on, but never to let anyone see her fall apart.

The ache in Margot’s chest grew sharper, harder to ignore. She wouldn’t be able to sleep at night if she didn’t at least extend the invitation.

“Hey.” She crossed her arms, standing straighter even though Olivia still towered several inches over her. “If you need a place to stay, you can crash at mine. If you want.”

Olivia’s lips parted, hazel eyes rounding. “That’s kind of you to offer, but I wouldn’t want to impose.”

Annie tugged on Brendon’s arm, leading him across the room. Elle and Darcy followed, giving Margot and Olivia some semblance of privacy. Except for the part where they were conspicuously quiet, eyes averted but clearly listening in.

Margot focused on Olivia and tried to tune out her well-meaning-but-nosy-as-fuck friends. “You wouldn’t be. Imposing, I mean. I’ve got two bedrooms and no roommates, which I’ve been meaning to do something about.”

Margot hadn’t anticipated the universe giving her a big ole kick in the pants, but hey. Unexpected.

Olivia stared at Margot with big, unblinking eyes.

“Roommate?” she asked, sounding unsure.

“I’m not suggesting it has to be permanent. Not that I’m not suggesting . . .” Damn it. Why was this so difficult? With anyone else, Margot had no problem saying exactly what she meant. “It could be on a trial basis. Or if you just need a place to crash for however long it takes you to find somewhere else, that’s chill, too.” Margot’s throat narrowed, more words creeping up without her consent. “It’s not like you’re a stranger. We—we know each other. I mean, I think my parents honestly tried to claim you as a dependent on their taxes one year.”

A smile played at the edges of Olivia’s mouth, and Margot . . . was staring at Olivia’s lips. Margot didn’t know where to look. She crossed her arms, but that felt defensive, so she dropped them to her sides, where they hung, aimless. Margot had no idea what she was doing.