Written in the Stars(38)

“Wait. Slow down. Back the fuck up.” Annie sighed. “Ich spreche mit meinem freund.”

“Are you speaking German?”

“I’m in Berlin. Business trip. Did I forget to mention that?” The better question was since when did Annie speak German. “Sorry. My cabdriver thought I was talking to him. You were saying?”

“It’s nothing. Brendon told me the deal with Oh My Stars was finalized this morning and then he asked if the two of us had plans to celebrate and I didn’t know what to say and Brendon looked at me like I had dropped the ball. Like I was, I don’t know, being a bad girlfriend. So I’m buying Elle a box of wine because it’s her favorite. You know. To congratulate her.”

Annie didn’t say anything for so long that Darcy glanced at the screen, checking if the call had been disconnected. “Huh. Okay. That’s. Hm.”

“That was a lot of noise for managing to say nothing.”

“I was emoting, you bitch. Read between the lines.”

“If you have something to say, say it.”

Annie laughed. “Is your brother going to be there when you gift Elle with this box of wine?”

“You sound like a snob, Annie.”

Like the drama queen she was, Annie gasped. “Said the pot to the kettle. Stop avoiding my questions.”

“No.” She leaned against the aisle endcap. “Brendon’s not going to be there. What’s your point?”

“Just interesting is all. What’s the point of giving Elle a gift if your brother isn’t there to see it? Unless you like her.”

“I—”

She did. She liked Elle. She just didn’t know what it meant or if it meant anything. It was the last thing she wanted to think about, but of course, because her brain was a fucking traitor, that kiss was all she could think about. That kiss. Elle’s smile. The way her eyes had shone beneath the streetlights. Her laugh.

Brendon might’ve planted the seed that brought her to this liquor store, but she wanted to see Elle.

Annie gasped. “Oh my god. You’re shitting me. You like her? Elle? The girl who spilled wine all over your favorite dress and believes in one twu wuv?” She giggled. “This is perfect. You realize that, right? You’re starring in your own romantic comedy, Darcy. Next thing you know, there’s only going to be one bed at the B&B and you’ll have to huddle for warmth beneath one tiny blanket and—”

“Stop.” Darcy pinched the bridge of her nose. “Annie.”

“You just whined at me.” Annie cackled. “Oh my god. I’m dead. You’re so fucked. I love it.”

She was right. Darcy was well and truly fucked.

“I hate you.”

“You love me.”

“You had the audacity to compare my life to a romantic comedy.” Darcy scoffed. “You sound like Brendon.”

Annie said, “Speaking of your brother. You didn’t tell me he’d gotten so cute.”

Kill her now. “Don’t be gross, Annie. That’s my little brother you’re talking about.”

“I know.” Annie said something else to the driver in German, too fast for Darcy to catch. “He was always adorable, but now he’s—”

“Stop. Do not pass go and whatever you do, do not finish that sentence.” Darcy shivered.

“I’m just saying! Objectively. He rarely posts pictures of himself and when he does, they’re these shoddy cropped selfies with the worst lighting and half the time he’s got his thumb partway over the camera. You’d think with limbs as long as his he’d get his whole self in the frame, but no. He posted that group picture of you guys and it was a shock. Little Brendon grew up nice, is all I’m saying.”

Darcy sniffed. “Brendon is handsome, yes. Of course, he is. He’s my brother.”

Annie chuckled. “Okay, okay. No more drooling over your little bro. Got it.”

Gross. “Thank you.”

For a moment, Annie was silent. “How are you really doing, Darcy?”

Darcy sucked on her lower lip, shrugging even though Annie wasn’t there to see. “I’m all right.”

“Darcy.”

She dropped her chin. “I’m confused.”

Annie’s sigh was soft. “I didn’t mean to laugh. Not if you’re not laughing, too.”

Friends since fifth grade, Annie had been there through it all—Darcy’s parents’ divorce, moving away to the same college, the death of her grandmother, new jobs, new relationships, failed relationships. Annie had packed up most of Darcy’s apartment, the apartment she’d shared with Natasha, just so she wouldn’t have to deal with it. Annie might tease, but if anyone could imagine how confused Darcy felt, it was her.

“I know you didn’t. It’s fine. It’s— I just need to calm down. I’m blowing everything out of proportion.”

She’d give Elle her wine and get out, go home, and put her head down. With eight weeks until the FSA exam, she needed to focus. Not on how Elle tasted or how her laugh made Darcy’s chest throb, but on studying. Just yesterday, her boss had asked how her exam prep was going before dropping the bomb that her coworker Jeremy was also scheduled to take his final FSA exam in January. Mr. Stevens wanted to give the promotion to Darcy since Jeremy had only been at the company four months to Darcy’s six, but if she didn’t pass . . .