Written in the Stars(19)

The plan, the promising, practically brilliant plan, was slipping through Darcy’s fingers. “I didn’t say lie, I said don’t say anything. There’s a difference.”

Elle stared.

“Look, I didn’t mean to rope you into this, I swear, but maybe . . .” Floundering, Darcy was trying and failing to fill in the blank. Maybes were flimsy, imprecise. She preferred probabilities and proof to perhaps. She met Elle’s eyes and somehow in her stare, she found her answer. “If you look on the bright side, this could be beneficial to us both.”

That was the sort of starry-eyed optimism that revved Elle’s engine, right?

Elle’s eyes narrowed. “How?”

Darcy knew how it would benefit her, but Elle’s situation was a bit less defined. Vague, even.

“I’m at my wits’ end with my brother’s matchmaking,” Darcy explained. “And you . . . you want your family to think you can hold down a relationship?”

“I—” Elle shut her mouth and frowned. “What I want is an actual relationship, one I don’t have to fib about.”

Each time Darcy felt like she was finally regaining her grip, the plan slipped further through her fingers.

“No one’s saying you can’t have that. This would only be for . . . a month, maybe two. Long enough for Brendon to think I’m trying.”

Elle covered her face with her hands. Her fingers pressed into the skin beneath her brows, massaging the ridge of her eye sockets before she dropped her hands and pinned Darcy with a stare. “You want us to . . . to fake a relationship? Are you serious?”

Was it what Darcy wanted? No. Not even close. This had escalated into something she hadn’t planned. This was decidedly more involved, requiring partnership when what she’d been aiming for was the soundness of singledom, Darcy Party of One. But she could adapt. She had no choice. “We can say we’re spending time together. Getting to know each other, feeling things out. It doesn’t have to be a thing. Just implied. We don’t have to . . . define the relationship.”

Elle’s tongue poked against her cheek. “This sounds like a supremely stupid plan. Like, awful. And if I’m the one saying that?” Elle snorted.

“A month or two, Elle. All you have to do is tell Brendon we’re talking and you will have done your good deed for the rest of the year. Then you can go back to trying to find your soul mate.” Darcy fought against the urge to cringe.

“You seriously think your brother’s going to buy that? No questions asked? Are we talking about the same guy?” Elle lifted a hand over her head. “About this tall, auburn hair, cute grin, shit at winking?”

Darcy sighed. She had a point. Brendon lived for details, sappy details, and if their stories didn’t align? Brendon was bright, too bright to accept inconsistencies. He’d sniff out Darcy’s lies and then she’d really be in hot water.

“That’s a fair point,” Darcy conceded. Not to mention, there was that pesky annual Christmas party of his. How was she supposed to act like she and Elle were together if they didn’t go together? “There’s an event or two I might need you to attend.”

Elle’s shoulders started to shake and it took Darcy a second to realize she was laughing. “Are you kidding me? You have some nerve, you know that?” She shook her head. “Why should I give a fuck about what you need?”

“I’d . . . I’d obviously return the favor.” Darcy winced through the offer. “If that’s what you want.”

Elle blinked. “You’re saying you’d come to something like . . . what, Thanksgiving? With my family?”

Oh Jesus. Darcy swallowed a groan. “I could do that.”

“And you’d . . . act like you’re smitten? Like the sun shines out of my ass?”

Darcy nodded. “Sure. Whatever.”

What was one holiday? As long as she got Brendon off her back, she could suffer through a family Thanksgiving with Elle. How bad could it be?

Arms crossed, Elle nibbled on the corner of her lip, eyes staring off into space over Darcy’s shoulder, going glassy. With a quick shake of her head, she snapped out of whatever thoughts were swimming around inside her head. “Darcy—”

“Please.” The word popped out, reflexive. Anything to make Elle say yes. “Just . . . please, Elle.”

Elle blinked, lips parting, pursing as she blew out her breath. “Fine.”

Darcy’s brows rose. “Fine?”

A muscle in Elle’s jaw twitched. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m in.”

She slipped past, arms brushing even though there was plenty of room for her to pass. Maple syrup and spice filled Darcy’s nose, making her mouth water. She swallowed and pivoted, watching as Elle shoved her feet back inside her shoes and opened the front door.

Fingers resting on the doorknob, Elle paused. “We can hammer out the details of this”—she made a face, lips twisting— “arrangement later.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Put my number in your phone. I’ll be in touch.”





Chapter Five


Am I losing my mind, or did you just say you’re going to fake a relationship with Darcy Lowell?”

Elle winced at the way Margot’s voice went shrill. “You’re perfectly sane.”