Written in the Stars(97)

“I think I should tell that to Elle.”

Margot shoved her thumb under the ridge of her brow bone. “Shockingly, something else we agree on. Question is, are you going to say something or are you gonna fuck up all over again?”

“Aiming to not fuck up. Hence the reason I’m here.”

Margot dropped her hand, eyes lowering to stare at the plant in Darcy’s arms. “What the fuck is that?”

Darcy cleared her throat, heat creeping up the back of her neck. “It doesn’t matter. Could you please just tell me where Elle is?”

Margot sighed. “Look. I told Elle I wasn’t a fan of this, this fake dating shit you sprang on her. I told her from the beginning not to expend emotional labor you didn’t deserve. Quite frankly, I’m still not sure you deserve Elle because she’s my best friend and the greatest person I know. I will always think she deserves the absolute best and I don’t like you right now so in my book, you’re the worst. But who’s best for her isn’t up to me to decide. I pour the drinks and feed her ice cream and hold her hand when she cries and yeah, I give my opinion and plenty of advice, but Elle can make her own decisions. For whatever reason, she wants you. But so help me god, if you break her heart again, I will slash your tires, Darcy Lowell.”

“I sold my car when I moved here,” Darcy admitted.

Margot rolled her eyes. “Then I’ll break into your apartment and move everything three inches to the left and fuck with your flow, okay?”

Darcy stared because, shit, that actually sounded awful.

The sentiment, however, was nice. Nice that Elle had someone who had her back, who loved her enough to make those kinds of eerily unsettling threats. Good thing Darcy wasn’t planning on ever breaking Elle’s heart. Not if she had her way.

“Got it. Loud and clear. Now, can you please tell me where to find Elle so I can try to fix this?”

A slow smirk tugged at Margot’s lips, easily as unsettling as that threat to induce paranoia by subtly altering Darcy’s surroundings. “How do you feel about metaphysical bookstores?”

*

A bell above the door chimed loudly as Darcy stepped into the bookstore. Patchouli and sandalwood tickled her nose, nearly making her sneeze. She coughed lightly and gripped the plant tighter in her arms, glancing around the hole-in-the-wall bookstore.

A dizzying maze of wall-to-wall, floor-to-ceiling shelves were crammed inside the store, the aisles between them narrow, a fire hazard. Near the front of the tiny shop was a wide rectangular table wrapped in silver garland and covered in colorful, translucent crystals and nonfiction paperbacks. How to Awaken Your Third Eye. Tantric Sex 101. You and Your Yoni.

“Can I help you find something?”

Darcy jumped, nerves getting the best of her. Behind the counter stood a man in a red-and-green caftan and a woman decked out in a black corset, leather pants, and an ear full of piercings. Darcy glanced down at her wool trousers and sensible green sweater, plant cradled against her chest. Out of her comfort zone was putting it lightly.

They were both watching her expectantly. Darcy pasted on a smile. “Yes, actually. I’m looking for Elle Jones.”

The woman with the many silver piercings in her cartilage grabbed a binder from under the desk and ran her coffin-shaped candy-cane-striped nail down the page. “She should be finishing up with a client in the next few minutes if you—”

Beside the counter, a purple beaded curtain parted. Out stepped a woman who looked to be in her midfifties wearing a smile as she spoke in hushed tones over her shoulder.

Elle stepped through the curtain, batting the beads out of her face and Darcy’s heart seized.

Gently patting her client on the shoulder, Elle then waved good-bye. She performed a quick double take before staring at Darcy.

Darcy shoved down the nerves threatening to choke her, render her mute. That was the opposite of what she needed. “Hey.”

Elle sucked her lower lip between her teeth, eyes dropping to the floor in front of Darcy’s feet. Her shoulders rose and she lifted her eyes, pinning Darcy with a merciless glare. “Darcy.”

The look in Elle’s eyes turned Darcy’s stomach, weakening her resolve. No. She’d come this far. Hunted down this plant, faced Margot. She could do this. “Can we talk?”

Elle crossed her arms over her chest. “Not gonna have Brendon run interference?”

Ow. She deserved that but it didn’t make the jab sting any less.

Darcy squared her shoulders and shook her head. “No. I’m not. I’d like to talk to you.”

A flicker of interest passed over Elle’s face, her eyes narrowing briefly before her expression smoothed into a mask of indifference. Darcy knew that look. She’d perfected that look. “I’m busy. Working, in case you didn’t notice.”

Darcy hadn’t come all this way to have the door metaphorically slammed in her face. “How much for a . . . reading?”

“What?” Elle’s eyes bugged.

Darcy juggled the plant in her arms, shifting until she could reach inside her crossbody purse and grab her wallet.

A soft noise of distress slipped from Elle’s lips. “You don’t . . . you don’t believe in astrology. It’s a waste of time. Yours and mine.”

“You accept cards, I assume?” Darcy slid her Visa across the glass counter.