Written in the Stars(23)

“You were really upset the other night. I know you were trying to put on a brave face, but it was obvious Darcy hurt you. Worse than you let on. Now you’re agreeing to fake a relationship with her? Because of your family? Elle, if they can’t see how amazing you are . . . this isn’t worth it.”

Elle ground the toe of her boot into the rug, tracing the singe mark in the paisley pattern from the Birthday Sparkler Incident of 2017.

“I don’t really know what I’m doing,” she admitted. The lump inside her throat grew, forcing her to swallow to keep her voice from cracking. “I’m just tired of falling short, Mar.”

Margot’s face crumpled. “Elle—”

She jerked her chin and sniffed hard, blinking away the film of tears blurring her vision. She smiled and shrugged. “If I can get my family to take me seriously about one thing, see that I have my life together in a way that makes sense to them, maybe they’ll come around to the rest.”

Margot shook her head. “So you’re throwing in the towel? You’re going to be like Lydia now? Dating the sorts of people your parents want and shrinking yourself down to be palatable to people who don’t get you? Who don’t even try?”

No. God no. Elle wasn’t going to actually compromise who she was or how she lived her life. No, this was a blip on Elle’s radar, a pit stop, a means to an end. Elle wasn’t settling. She just wanted her parents to be proud of her for who she was. If she had to speak their language for a brief bit of time, what was the harm? “No way. This is fake. I just want them to understand I’m not the letdown they think I am. Maybe hearing how awesome I am from someone else, someone like Darcy who’s the sort of person who satisfies their whole nine-to-five I’m a serious adult vibe, will help.”

Margot stuck out her tongue, eyes rolling. “Boring, you mean?”

Elle shrugged. “Besides, it’s cuffing season and Lydia’s got a boyfriend. Jane’s got Gabe and Daniel has Mike and I’m just—Elle. I’m not exactly jazzed about spending another holiday alone as the black sheep of the family.”

“Just Elle is pretty great.” Margot smiled. “But I get it. I mean, I might not be in your shoes, but I understand where you’re coming from. I just want you to remember that you deserve someone you don’t have to fake it with.” Both her brows rose. “And I mean that in all ways.”

Elle cracked a smile. “Thanks.”

“But seriously, have you thought about what you’re going to do when your two months are up? How are you going to spin your breakup that doesn’t make you look like you can’t hold down a relationship?”

Elle grimaced. That would be counterintuitive. “I’m thinking we’ll split because of some crucial but faultless incompatibility like . . . I don’t know, I want kids but she doesn’t.”

Breakups happened all the time. There didn’t need to be culpability. It could be a mature split that in no way served as a blight on Elle’s character.

“Does she want kids?”

“I don’t know.”

Margot frowned. “Don’t you think that’s something you should probably discuss before you start making plans? Kids might be excessive, but things? Her favorite color. Food allergies. I don’t know.”

She nodded. “I’m headed to her place now, actually. We’re going to get to know each other so we can make this whole thing a little more believable.”

Margot worried her lip. She wasn’t entirely sold, Elle could tell, but something was better than nothing.

Elle gave one last shrug. “It’s not ideal, but it’s better than nothing, I guess? It’s like hiring an escort but better because it’s beneficial for the both of us and on the bright side, I don’t have to pay.”

“You getting some other perks out of this you failed to mention?” Margot waggled her brows.

Her face warmed. “I don’t think it’s like that.”

“Something else you might want to hammer out, yeah?” Margot’s smile flattened into something tense. “Just watch your back. I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“It’s not like Darcy can hurt my feelings any worse than she already has. I know she doesn’t like me, so what’s the worst that could happen?”

*

Elle shifted the bags from her left arm to the right and tried—subsequently failing—to smother her smile when Darcy opened the door, this time wearing a camel-colored pencil skirt that hugged her hips, and a polka-dotted pussy-bow blouse in off-white that Darcy would probably dub something fancy like eggshell or mascarpone. On anyone else it would’ve been very blah, but the fall of Darcy’s copper hair over one shoulder and her curves made it less boring and more librarian chic. Never before had Elle met someone so pretty that it pissed her off.

Darcy shifted her weight from one foot to the other, hips cocking, emphasizing the crescent curve of her waist. She side-eyed the bags looped over Elle’s arm, looking equal parts intrigued and distrustful. “Hello.”

Elle lifted the bags. “I come bearing libations and craft supplies.”

Darcy’s brows rocketed to her hairline. “Craft supplies?”

Sliding past Darcy into the apartment, Elle bit back a grin. Score one for her for managing to knock Darcy off-kilter. “Mm-hmm. I figured we could hammer out the details of this arrangement and share some facts about ourselves.”