Written in the Stars(21)

Darcy took a sip of water. “Right. I was doing—that.”

The waitress swung by the table, dropping off her coffee before taking Brendon’s drink order. As soon as she was gone, Brendon leaned in, resting his elbows on the table, and gave her his best shit-eating grin.

“Speaking of Elle.”

Darcy took a long, slow sip of her coffee and stared at him over the rim. “What about Elle?”

He rolled his eyes. “Darcy.”

She smoothed the linen napkin on her lap and cocked her head. “All right. Should I start with how you did the one thing I expressly asked you not to? Not even twelve hours after you promised you wouldn’t go blabbing to Elle, what did you do? You ran your mouth, in front of her mother no less. You told her I was smitten, Brendon. Do you know how mortified I was when Elle told me?”

She had been, just not for the reasons he might think.

“She tattled?” Brendon had the decency to look sheepish for a whole two seconds before his expression shifted into a gloating smirk. “Come on. Tell me this won’t make for the greatest toast at your wedding one day.”

Wedding. It was almost Pavlovian how the word inspired a visceral reaction, chills racing down her spine, a cold sweat breaking out along the nape of her neck, her molars clacking together. “Slow the fuck down, Brendon. Elle and I aren’t getting married.”

How she managed to string together complete sentences when her throat was narrower than her coffee’s stir straw astounded her. She counted it as no small miracle that she could even say the word married at the moment.

Brendon snagged her cup of coffee, taking a sip before his whole face screwed up at the taste. And he called her a snob.

“You don’t know that.”

She did. But she couldn’t say that. Not without calling her own bluff.

“Quit trying to marry me off like I’m some Regency spinster in one of your favorite Austen novels.”

“Your name is Darcy.”

“And I might be a single woman in possession of a good fortune, but I’m not in want of a wife.” Once upon a time, she’d wanted that. Look how it had gone. No, thank you. “You’re putting the cart in front of the horse. Elle and I aren’t even officially together. We’re testing the waters. Getting to know each other. Don’t get your hopes up, is what I’m saying.”

The waitress dropped off Brendon’s Arnold Palmer and took their orders—salmon salad for Brendon and steak carpaccio for Darcy.

What with how Brendon was going around telling everyone, Elle included, that she was smitten—God, she detested that word—she’d oversold herself. This, walking it back, was all part of the plan. Make Brendon think she was trying with Elle, putting her heart out there, eradicating any and all belief on his part that she was scared to fall in love. But she had to hold back just enough to make their eventual split believable. It was a balancing act, appearing cautiously optimistic without making excessive promises.

“I can’t believe you right now.”

Darcy’s head snapped up. “Excuse me?”

Brendon slouched in his chair. “You’ve got this great thing started with Elle, you’re in the midst of the magical time at the beginning of a relationship when you’re supposed to be on cloud nine thinking anything’s possible, and yet here you are, being a total downer.”

“Brendon—”

“No.” Brendon shoved his chair back, metal legs squealing, and sat up straight, leaning his elbows on the table. “You’re self-sabotaging right now, Darce. I know it isn’t always easy to break the habit, not with—with what’s happened, but you’ve got to stop seeing a dead end around every corner or else you’re going to turn it into a self-fulfilling prophecy. And the only person you’re going to have to blame is yourself.”

Darcy traced the rim of her coffee cup with her pointer finger, pausing to rid the porcelain of her red lipstick smudge. If she was avoiding Brendon’s eyes, it was completely coincidental. “I’m not self-sabotaging. I’m getting to know Elle and she’s—she’s more than I bargained for,” Darcy conceded, letting Brendon make of that what he wanted.

Never before had Darcy ever seen someone’s face look quite so much like the human equivalent of the heart-eyes emoji. Like drippy ice cream on a hot summer’s day, Brendon melted in his chair, shoulders slumping as his whole face screwed up, lips pressed together to no doubt keep from awing. “Darcy.”

Darcy had to bite the tip of her tongue to maintain her glare. “I swear on all that’s holy, if you so much as make a single joke right now or butcher a playground nursery rhyme about trees and kissing and baby carriages, I’ll let myself into your apartment and use your comic book collection as kindling. Capiche?”

He had to know she was all bark and no bite, but still, Brendon gave a full body shudder. “Got it.” Brendon thanked the waitress when she dropped off his salad. Fork poised to dig in, Brendon paused, stare going serious and sincere. “I’m happy you’re happy.”

Her stomach twisted itself into a pretzel. “Thanks, Brendon.”

“You know,” he said, picking the tomatoes off his salad and tossing them on her plate. “You do kind of owe me for introducing you to Elle.”

She owed him something all right.