Written in the Stars(20)
Margot stared. “Are you?”
“I have my reasons, all right?”
“Name one.”
“We haven’t hammered out the details yet, but we agreed it’s only for a month or two tops.”
“That’s not a reason, that’s an excuse. You know what, I actually don’t even know what that is, but it makes zero sense.”
“Darcy put me in a real bind, okay? Lying to her brother who then blabbed at breakfast in front of my mom.”
Margot slammed her laptop shut and tossed it on the cushion beside her. “So tell Darcy to go fuck herself.”
“It’s not that easy, Mar.”
“You open your mouth and say it. Fuck. You.” Margot shook her head. “Elle. Elle. This isn’t what you want. This is the opposite of what you want.”
A fake relationship wasn’t what she wanted. What she’d told Darcy was true—Elle wanted a real relationship. And not just any relationship, but the one. Her end game. She wasn’t picky, no matter what Mom said, but she was tired of going on first dates that never turned into second dates because either they were all wrong for her or she was wrong for them.
“You should’ve seen the look on my mom’s face,” Elle said. “Five minutes before that she was accusing me of being afraid of success, setting myself up for failure, and making life harder than it needs to be. In waltzes Brendon, talking about how his sister’s crazy about me. I was caught between a rock and a hard place. What was I supposed to say?”
“I don’t know. The truth, maybe?” Margot scowled. “Lying to your family isn’t the way to get them to take you seriously. What you need to do is tell them if they don’t like how you’re living your life, they can go fuck themselves because it’s not their life to live.”
“Jesus, Margot. Is that your solution to everything? Just tell everyone I know to fuck off?”
Talk about oversimplification. Her family might get on her nerves, but she wasn’t upset enough to burn bridges.
Margot drew a breath in and exhaled noisily before speaking. “It’s better than lying. You’re trying to find a short-term solution to a long-term problem. What are you going to do after your two months are up, hm?”
“When the time comes, I’ll . . . I’ll cross that bridge. Until then, I’m just . . .” Trying her best and hoping, like always, it would be good enough. “Making the most out of a weird situation.”
Margot grabbed her laptop and shoved it inside her messenger bag, hauling the strap onto her shoulder. “Lying to your family’s bad enough, Elle. Don’t start lying to yourself, too.”
*
What Rom-Com Are You Based on Your Zodiac Sign?
Aries—Fools Rush In
Taurus—Sweet Home Alabama
Gemini—She’s All That
Cancer—While You Were Sleeping
Leo—How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days
Virgo—The Proposal
Libra—Sleepless in Seattle
Scorpio—My Best Friend’s Wedding
Sagittarius—The Holiday
Capricorn—Two Weeks Notice
Aquarius—Clueless
Pisces—Never Been Kissed
“Whatcha lookin’ at?”
Heart rocketing into her throat, Darcy smashed the back button on her phone and aimed a withering stare at Brendon over her shoulder. “Jesus. Could you try not sneaking up on me?”
“Boring.” Brendon straightened from where he’d been crouched and rounded the table, dropping down into the chair opposite hers. “Besides, it’s practically my birthright as a younger brother to give you hell.”
“You’re twenty-six.”
He snagged a menu and ran his finger down the list of beverages. “Point being?”
“Point being, you should be above giving me grief on a daily basis. Don’t you have more important things to worry about? Running a company? Being featured on Forbes’s Thirty Under Thirty list?”
Flipping the menu over, Brendon shrugged. “Are you done deflecting? Can we discuss the fact that you were scrolling Oh My Stars?”
“I was not.” Darcy slipped her phone behind the salt and pepper shakers as if moving it out of sight might further refute Brendon’s accusation. Based on the way his smile grew even as he studied the menu, it did not. “I was . . . okay, fine, I was glancing. It doesn’t mean I believe in any of it. It’s ridiculous. How does my astrological sign correlate in any capacity to my preference for rom-coms? It doesn’t. I don’t even like Two Weeks Notice.”
Brendon gaped at her. “Blasphemy. It’s got Sandra Bullock and Hugh Grant. Rom-com royalty. Don’t let me catch you saying that sort of thing again or else I’ll sit on you and force you through a remedial rom-com marathon.”
She took a sip of her sparkling water and mock-shivered. “Oh, the horror.”
“I, for one, think it’s cu-te”—he drew out the word, turning it into two obnoxious syllables—“you’re reading Oh My Stars. Taking an interest in your partner’s job and hobbies is important, Darce.”
Spare her the touchy-feely mumbo-jumbo, please. For starters, she wasn’t relationship illiterate, and two, there was nothing cute about it. Elle was not her partner. Partner in crime perhaps, but Darcy’s perusal of Elle’s Twitter account had nothing to do with caring about astrology and everything to do with preparedness. Like studying for an exam. Clearly, all this astrological malarkey meant something to Elle. If Darcy wanted to sell this relationship, she needed to understand what made Elle tick. If such a thing could even be pinpointed. So far, the verdict was out, the inner workings of one Elle Jones less of a neat little package to be unwrapped and more like a clown car full of increasingly random and terrifyingly endearing quirks.