Count Your Lucky Stars (Written in the Stars, #3)(95)

“Darcy’s right,” Elle said. “We can wait right inside by the window. You can see the street and stay dry. So when Olivia shows up you won’t look like a drowned rat.” Her lips quirked. “Though I’m sure you’d make an adorable drowned rat, Mar.”

Margot snorted. “Nah. You go on. I’m going to wait out here.”

Something about going inside the venue, even to wait by the window, carried a note of finality she wasn’t ready for. Like if she walked through that door without Olivia by her side, she’d be accepting that Olivia wasn’t going to show. That this thing between them was over. Over before they’d barely gotten the chance to begin.

Maybe it was silly and symbolic, but Margot was going to wait right here, on this sidewalk. Where she was standing gave her a perfectly unencumbered view down the street in each direction. Even if the clouds overhead opened up and unleashed a torrential downpour, Margot’s feet were glued to the pavement. Nothing short of Olivia showing up would make Margot come inside before she absolutely had to. Until she had no choice.

“Meet you inside?” Elle gave Margot’s hand one last squeeze before letting go.

Margot nodded. “I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

Elle slipped away, and a moment later, the heavy door behind Margot shut with a boom that made Margot lurch, nerves shot from lack of sleep and spending most of the day on edge.

Despite being midday on a Friday, the street was quiet. This part of town was far enough away from the downtown market to attract fewer tourists, but there was usually a little more action. Several cars zoomed down the road, and across the street a group of friends laughed before ducking into a coffee shop.

The door opened a minute later, and Margot shut her eyes. “I said I’ll be there shortly, Elle.”

A throat cleared and Margot craned her neck, looking over her shoulder. With one hand braced against the door, Brendon poked his head out from under the awning and frowned up at the sky for a second before lowering his gaze to stare at Margot. His lips turned down at the corners and—her stomach dropped. She knew that look. What it meant.

Her raked his fingers through his hair. “It’s, uh, one o’clock. The officiant’s already here and the facility manager has”—he winced—“kindly reminded us that we need to be out of here no later than two so they can start setup for the event they have here tonight.”

Right. The, uh, show must go on. Margot clenched her back teeth together and pasted on a smile. “I’ll be right in.”

Brendon stared at her for a moment before shaking his head and throwing the door open the rest of the way. He stepped out onto the street, rain be damned, apparently, and wrapped her up in a hug so tight that something in her chest cracked and her toes actually skimmed the ground. She buried her nose in his shirt, breathing in the smell of his aftershave and the faint smell of Annie’s perfume that clung to his collar.

She pressed on his shoulders and ducked her chin, sniffling hard at the sidewalk. “Just give me a minute, Bren. Just—one minute, please?”

One of his fingers lifted her chin. When she raised her eyes, he offered her a crooked smile. “I’ll stall for you, okay? I can ask a bunch of questions about . . . I don’t know . . . the timing of the dove release or something.”

She smacked him on the arm. “You didn’t.”

He snickered and shook his head. “No. No doves. But I bet if I ask, I can buy you at least a couple minutes. Sound good?”

She scratched the tip of her nose and nodded. “Thanks, Brendon.”

“What are best friends for?” He squeezed her shoulder before backing up toward the door. “You just take your time.”

As soon as Brendon was inside, Margot hugged her arms around herself. Take her time? There wasn’t time.

But Margot had to trust that Olivia would show up. And if she didn’t, she had to believe she had a reason.

She relaxed her death grip on her phone and stared at the screen.

1:01 p.m.

Four more minutes. Margot would give her four minutes before she sucked it up and accepted that Olivia wasn’t coming.

Each second inched by. A horn blared from several blocks over, and across the street, that group of friends who’d ducked inside the coffee shop hurried back out onto the street, zipping up their jackets and hiding under their hoods, the rain falling heavier than before.

1:04 p.m.

One arm still wrapped around her stomach, Margot jammed the heel of her other hand against her breastbone—it was time to accept that, for whatever reason, Olivia wasn’t—

An engine roared a split second before a bright red monster truck took the corner, tires—all six of them—squealing. Margot stared, dumbstruck. In Seattle, she saw Priuses and Subarus and Hyundais, small cars ideal for squeezing into tight spaces, street parking the norm. Even the parking spaces in garages were narrow, all but encouraging drivers to pick smaller, more fuel-efficient vehicles than the gas-guzzler burning rubber as it ate up the pavement, coming toward her up the hill.

Holy shit. Margot leaped back as the right front tire of the truck hopped the curb, brakes screeching obnoxiously, drawing the attention of every pedestrian in a two-block radius.

Who the fuck was this asshole, and where in God’s name did they get their license?

Heart racing for an entirely different reason than before, Margot inched a little closer to the door to the venue, focus still firmly on the truck. She covered her ears when the driver’s-side door opened, hinges screeching like nails on a chalkboard. The door slammed, and Margot froze.