Written in the Stars(98)

Elle made a tiny choked sound in the back of her throat, half shriek and part huff. “Darcy.”

Darcy took her card back from the woman and signed the receipt with a flourish, turning back to Elle with wide, pleading eyes. “Please, Elle.”

She held her breath as Elle deliberated, chewing on the side of her lip, eyes locked on Darcy’s face. After a gut-wrenching moment wherein Darcy tried to mentally and facially communicate how sincere she was—likely looking crazed or worse, constipated—Elle finally sighed, tossing her hands in the air before stepping back through the beaded curtain. “Fine. You want a reading? I’ll give you a reading.”





Chapter Twenty-Two


Elle threw herself into the velvet wingback chair behind the slightly wobbly round table and watched as Darcy’s nose occasionally wrinkled, no doubt having all sorts of opinions about the Nag Champa wafting from the incense burner in the corner of the room.

She tucked her right leg beneath her and crossed her arms over her stomach. This was fine. Darcy wanted a reading? Elle would read her to filth.

“Have a seat.” She reached for her phone and pulled up the chart she’d saved weeks ago. She set her phone on the table, eyes staring shrewdly at Darcy’s houses and alignments. “Let’s see, you want to start with your Capricorn stellium? Maybe dig into your seventh house Pluto? Hmm, we could spend a whole hour talking about your south node in Virgo.”

Darcy shifted that stupid-looking plant—why in the world was she carrying a fucking shrub?—on her lap and nodded quickly. “Okay. Sure.”

Just like that, Elle deflated.

She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t take Darcy’s chart and use it against her. Astrology was a tool for empathy, not one to exact payback. She wasn’t going to twist something beautiful into something ugly, make it malicious, because her feelings were hurt. Understatement. But still. This wasn’t how Elle operated and she wasn’t going to change that, no matter how heartbroken she was. She wasn’t cruel and she didn’t want to hurt Darcy with barbed words, tear her down. Hurting Darcy wouldn’t mend Elle’s broken heart.

Elle flipped her phone over. “I can’t do this.”

Darcy pursed her lips, sitting up straighter. “I paid.”

“Go ask Sheila for a refund, then. I’m not going to waste my time giving you a reading when you don’t even believe in this. Especially not on Christmas Eve, Darcy.”

Darcy’s hands hugged that ugly terra-cotta planter, knuckles turning white from her grip. Her nail polish, that same boring pink shade she always wore, was chipped, peeling away from her thumbnail. All her nails were bitten down to the quick. “You’re right. I don’t believe in astrology.”

Despite having given Darcy the out, Elle’s throat narrowed, her chest tightening.

What hurt the most in that moment was that she’d thought Darcy had understood. That it wasn’t whether it was real, but it was about understanding each other. Connecting. Feeling less alone. “Cool. Like I said, ask Sheila for a refund.”

Darcy didn’t move, didn’t get up, didn’t leave the room. She barely shook her head. “But you do. You believe in it.”

Duh.

“It’s been a long time since I believed in something, anything,” Darcy whispered. She opened her mouth and a little hiccup of a gasp slipped out. “You make me want to believe in something, Elle. And I do. I don’t believe in astrology, but I believe in you and I believe in this, in what I feel. And I know you’re mad and it’s probably too late, but could you let me explain? Please.”

Elle’s heart went haywire. Stuttering, speeding, stopping before clawing its way up her chest. Speaking wasn’t something she could do with her heart lodged inside her throat. She nodded instead.

“Yes, I never planned for this. I didn’t want to fall in love, not again, not after—” Darcy broke off, air stuttering from between her lips, lips that quivered gently before she swallowed and got ahold of herself. She met Elle’s eyes across the table, didn’t so much as flinch at the contact. Her brown eyes were wide and vulnerable, brow lightly pinched, but the rest of her face was lax. “Brendon told me he already told you about Natasha. I’ll spare you the dirty details but putting myself out there again was the last thing I wanted. Then you came along.”

Elle snorted. Ah, yes. She came crashing into Darcy’s life, uninvited. How could she forget? Spilled wine and butting heads. Charming.

“You were the exact opposite of what I wanted,” Darcy said.

Elle clenched her hands into fists. She’d asked for sincerity, but she hadn’t asked for this. Hearing her worst fears confirmed. “That’s—”

“Please,” Darcy whispered, shaking her head. “I’m not . . . you were the opposite of what I thought I wanted but it turned out you were exactly what I needed and somewhere along the way you became the one thing I wanted more than anything. What I said to my mother, it wasn’t true, Elle. I lied to her and I lied to myself. This is so much more than me just having fun.”

Elle took the deepest breath she could with her arms crossed snug over her stomach. “I know I’m not the most punctual person and I can’t tell the difference between a cabernet sauv—whatever and a pinot to save my life. I believe in astrology and I follow my gut more than I follow my head. And all of that? It’s who I am.” Her stupid eyes had to go and water. Elle blinked fast and shrugged. “I like who I am. A lot. What I do, who I am, it makes me happy. And I . . . I deserve someone who likes me exactly the way I am, mess and all. I need to be able to know that. I need to hear that. I need to believe it. I deserve someone who can say it.”