Count Your Lucky Stars (Written in the Stars, #3)(4)

At the end of the hall, Elle drew to an abrupt stop and gasped. “Wow.”

Margot hurried to catch up before following Elle’s gaze up to the ceiling. “Holy shit.”

The ceiling of the ballroom was stunning, painted in shades of lilac and lavender, bleeding down into periwinkle and pink, all the softest shades of dusk, when twilight descended into night and the stars came out to play. Little pinpricks of silver and champagne dotted the ceiling, and the glow of the chandeliers made everything ethereal and dreamy. Perfect for Brendon and Annie.

Across the room, Brendon beamed. “It’s great, isn’t it?”

Tucked into his side, Annie smiled up at him. “I like what I see.”

Elle greeted Darcy with a quick kiss before lacing their fingers together. “It’s like something straight out of a fairy tale. If you guys don’t get married here, I will.”

Darcy stared at Elle as if she were the source of all the light in the room.

A bittersweet pang struck Margot in the chest, stealing her breath.

She didn’t always feel like a fifth wheel—her friends were good about keeping the PDA to a minimum, and even then, a little PDA didn’t bother her—but it was happening more often lately.

A wedding was a party, marriage a piece of paper and permission to file your taxes jointly; Brendon and Annie, Darcy and Elle, they were already coupled up, wholly committed, and madly in love. It was silly to let an event that was, more than anything, symbolic mess with her head, but Margot couldn’t help but feel like her friends were all forming a club and she wasn’t invited.

Not unless she brought a plus-one.

“Elle’s right,” Margot said, trying to echo her enthusiasm. “I think this place might be it.”

Brendon laughed. “You’re just saying that so you don’t have to tour another venue.”

Is that what he thought? Jesus. “I know I’m not always sunshine and rainbows, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care.”

Of course she cared. Flowers and first-dance songs weren’t her favorite topics, but Brendon and Annie cared about it all, so she cared about it. She was the Best Woman. Caring about Brendon was pretty much what the role dictated. But even if she weren’t the Best Woman, she’d have still cared because he was her friend. He was stuck with her.

“Trust me,” he said, eyes still crinkled with laughter. “No one expects you to be sunshine and rainbows.”

Her brows knit. What was that supposed to mean?

“It’s not an indictment,” Brendon tacked on, eyes widening in alarm as if he’d realized he’d said the wrong thing. “We like you exactly as you are.”

Annie nodded briskly in agreement, but Margot couldn’t help but feel like maybe it wasn’t true. That maybe her friends would like her better if she were a little more sunshine and rainbows.

Margot dug inside her bag for her lip balm. She’d just have to try harder, lay it on thicker. “Who are we waiting on?”

Brendon fished around inside his pocket. “The facility manager had to step out to make a call, and the wedding planner texted a couple minutes ago and said she’s trying to find a place to park. She should be here—”

“I’m so sorry I’m late.” Breathless laughter came from behind their group. “Parking was a pain.”

The lid to Margot’s ChapStick slipped out of her fingers and bounced against the floor before rolling a foot away. Great. She crouched, shuffling forward to snag it from beside Darcy’s foot.

Brendon grinned. “No worries. Olivia, right? I’m Brendon.”

“It’s so nice to meet you.”

“Likewise. This is my fiancée, Annie; my sister, Darcy; her girlfriend, Elle.”

“Hi,” Elle chirped.

Margot stood, dusting off her knees.

“This is my friend and Best Woman—”

“Margot?”

All the air left Margot’s lungs in a punched-out exhale as soon as she locked eyes with the statuesque blond across the room.

Olivia Grant. Holy shit.

Olivia’s pouty, lush lips parted, mirroring Margot’s shock. An abundance of tawny hair spilled out from beneath her dark red beanie, tumbling down her back in soft waves, longer than Margot remembered. For a moment, Margot was too tongue-tied to speak.

Elle’s forehead furrowed, and Margot coughed.

“Olivia.” Her voice actually cracked. Kill her now. “Right. I thought you looked . . . familiar.” Familiar. Ha. Familiar was for acquaintances. Not whatever the hell they once were. “It’s, um, Olivia Taylor now, right?

Not that Margot had looked Olivia up online or anything. Not that she’d specifically not looked, either. Maybe she’d taken a peek at her Facebook profile, but only because it had popped up under suggested friends. Margot hadn’t sent her a friend request or anything like that. They weren’t friends. Not anymore. Olivia whatever-her-last-name-was was just someone Margot used to know.

Someone Margot had once spent the better part of a week with naked, tangled up in the sheets of Olivia’s childhood bed, wringing multiple orgasms out of, until Margot’s jaw had ached and Olivia’s voice had grown hoarse. Five days that were, arguably, the best of Margot’s life, full of toe-curling sex and laughter that made her stomach hurt. The start of something, a new chapter between them, one where Margot didn’t have to spend another second secretly pining for her best friend because all her feelings were returned.