Count Your Lucky Stars (Written in the Stars, #3)(97)

Olivia sniffled softly and nodded. “It’s not the easiest, letting someone care about me.”

“Well, you’ll have lots of time to practice,” Margot joked, stepping closer until their knees bumped. “Because I’m not going to stop caring about you any time soon. Definitely not after one fight. I’m a lot harder to get rid of than that.”

Olivia’s laugh was watery, her smile bright. The hand resting on the small of Margot’s back traveled higher, tangling in the back of her hair. “So am I. I’m not going anywhere.”

Heat crept up Margot’s jaw, and the inside corners of her eyes prickled. “I know.”

“What were you doing standing out here?” Olivia asked.

“Everyone else went inside.” Margot lifted her free hand and rested it on the side of Olivia’s neck, her thumb brushing the hinge of Olivia’s jaw. “But I was waiting for you.”

Olivia smiled, and the hand in Margot’s hair tightened, drawing her close. Olivia dipped her chin and her nose slid against Margot’s, her breath warm against Margot’s mouth. Olivia’s lips brushed hers, a whispered tease of a kiss. Her hair smelled like shampoo and rain and her breath like toothpaste, and Margot wanted. She smiled and chased Olivia’s lips, gripping the front of Olivia’s blouse, dragging her in, and sealing their mouths together.

“I’m pretty sure a part of me has been waiting for you for eleven years. Just like I’m pretty sure, no matter what happens, I’m always going to be at least little bit in love with you, Liv. Waiting a few extra minutes wasn’t going to kill me.” A drop landed on the tip of Margot’s nose. A little rain wouldn’t kill her, either.

Olivia’s lips parted, hazel eyes widening. “Really?” she whispered.

Margot’s heart raced from the confession, from Olivia’s closeness, the warmth of her hand against the back of Margot’s neck. The thumb of Olivia’s other hand swept gentle circles over the inside of Margot’s wrist, where she could probably feel Margot’s pulse flutter wildly. “Really.”

“Always?” Olivia whispered against Margot’s mouth, seemingly as reluctant to drag herself from the kiss as Margot was.

“Always.”





Epilogue





About Two Years Later



“Margot. You can say it. Margot.”

“Buh!” Caroline Lowell smacked her lips together. A bubble of spit dribbled from the corner of her mouth as she burbled incoherently, staring up at Margot with wide brown eyes.

Margot jostled the baby on her lap and snorted. “My name isn’t buh, but I have the utmost faith in you, Care Bear. It’s simple. Mar-go. Margot.”

Caroline Lowell clapped her chubby little hands together and giggled. “Buh!”

“I’m going to cut you some slack because you’re not even a year old. Or”—she rolled her eyes—“sorry, twelve months. Why does everyone do that? I don’t go around telling everyone I’m . . .” She did the math. “Three hundred seventy-two months, do I? No, because that would be ridiculous.”

Caroline laughed and kicked her legs, bouncing atop Margot’s thighs. Beneath her dress—a sparkling silver number with a full crinoline skirt dotted with multicolored glitter—she sported dark blue leggings. Atop her head, her crown of evergreen sprigs and eucalyptus sat askew. One tiny tuft of hair had been scraped into the world’s saddest ponytail atop the center of her mostly bald head. The silver bow meant to hold it in place kept sliding, her strawberry blond hair too fine, too sparse.

“You are great for my self-esteem, kid. I hope you still laugh at all my jokes once you can understand them.”

“Buh!” Caroline pointed at Margot’s half-empty bottle of beer. Not just any beer, but the recently released Aries brew from Bell and Blanchard Brewing Company in partnership with Oh My Stars. It was a hazy IPA with a slightly peppery bite that paired perfectly with the fruitiness of the Galaxy and Simcoe hops. Profitable and delicious. As far as Margot was concerned, it was the best business partnership she and Elle had made yet.

She glanced at the dance floor. Second-best business partnership.

“Yes, that’s beer,” Margot said, turning back to Caroline. “But you can’t have that for another . . .” She wrinkled her nose. “We’ll talk about it when you’re a little older, yeah?”

Caroline gurgled and lurched forward, smacking Margot’s cheek with damp fingers. Why Caroline had such sticky fingers was a touch unsettling. “Buh buh BUH!”

Margot nodded. “If you say so.”

Caroline dimpled and pressed her other hand to Margot’s cheek and—that hand wasn’t merely a little moist, it was covered in something. Something she smeared all over Margot’s cheek with undisguised glee, babbling excitedly, her fingers creeping closer to the edge of Margot’s mouth.

“What the fu—fudge is on my face?” she muttered, equally as horrified to find out what it was as she was to simply leave it there, ignorant. “This had better not be from your diaper.”

Reluctantly, she reached for her napkin and dabbed at her cheek. Caroline blew spit bubbles and watched with wide brown eyes. Margot sniffed and sighed in relief.

Frosting. It was the lemon buttercream from the wedding cake. Margot didn’t exactly want it on her face, but it could’ve been worse. It could’ve been far worse.