Count Your Lucky Stars (Written in the Stars, #3)(9)

Olivia’s eyes darted to where Margot’s friends stood, and Margot followed her gaze. Brendon whipped around and stared up at the ceiling, honest to God starting to whistle. Olivia huffed out a quiet laugh and dropped her voice, whispering, “Are they always like that? Your friends?”

Margot arched a brow. “Are they always . . . what? Nosy?”

“No.” Olivia’s lips quirked. “Well, yeah. That, too. Are they always so bad at hiding it?”

She smiled fondly. “The trick is to let them think they’re stealthy. That way they never try to improve.”

“Clever,” Olivia praised. Her throat jerked, and her smile waned. “Look, I didn’t mean to imply that I didn’t want to—to take you up on your offer.” A faint blush rose in Olivia’s cheeks. “I’m surprised you’re offering. That’s all.”

Margot frowned. She had zero desire to rehash their past, not ever, but certainly not here, where her friends were listening.

“It’s ancient history, Liv,” she murmured, scratching her nose so Brendon—snoop that he was—wouldn’t try to read her lips. “How about we leave the past in the past?”

So what if they’d had a week-long fling while Olivia and Brad were broken up over spring break senior year? Brad had returned from Mexico, skin tanned and hair bleached from the sun, and when he’d begged Olivia to take him back, she’d said yes.

Sure, Margot had thought their week together had meant something, but clearly it hadn’t, and now it was nothing but a chapter in Margot’s past. No, a footnote. Time healed all wounds, yada yada whatever. Margot wasn’t carrying a grudge, she wasn’t carrying a torch, and she didn’t need to talk about it.

Olivia tugged her beanie down over the tops of her ears and gave a short, sharp nod. “Right. I can do that.”

Of course she could. She wasn’t the one who’d had feelings.

“Cool.” Margot cleared her throat. “So?”

“Are—are you sure about this?”

No, not one bit. But she wasn’t about to back out. Not after offering, not with her friends standing by. Not when Olivia wasn’t just someone Margot used to know, but Brendon and Annie’s wedding planner.

She’d show Brendon sunshine and rainbows.

“I wouldn’t have offered if I weren’t.”

Olivia’s lips curved upward in a tentative smile. “Thanks.”

Margot shoved her hands inside her pockets and jerked her chin at the door. “We should probably head out and grab your stuff before it gets too late.”

“Packing. Joy.” Olivia heaved a sigh. “I swear I feel like I only just got settled.”

“Packing?” Brendon rocked back on his heels. “Did I hear you say packing? Because we can help with that. I’ll order pizza.”

Olivia’s eyes sparkled with mirth, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip. She shot Margot a look, nothing more than a brief flicker of her eyes, but it put a weird lump in Margot’s throat because it was the start of something new, even if it was only a shared understanding that Brendon wouldn’t know subtlety if it bit him on the ass.

Margot rolled her eyes and took a step in the direction of the door. Olivia reached out, cool fingers brushing the back of Margot’s hand. Despite being a whisper of a touch, it made Margot’s pulse roar inside her ears.

A soft pink blush crept up Olivia’s jaw as she dropped her hand to her side and smiled sheepishly. “You’re not allergic to cats, are you?”





Chapter Three




Olivia hovered in Margot’s foyer, Cat mewling softly from the carrier at her feet. Poor thing was probably confused, not understanding why she’d been shoved inside a carrier, put in a car, and driven across the city. Olivia crouched down, slipping her fingers through the plastic grate. Cat leaned in, sniffing her fingers before rubbing her face against them. “I know. It’s been a long day.”

And it was nowhere close to being over.

Margot stepped out into the hall, Elle trailing after her. She jerked her thumb over her shoulder. “I didn’t know where the best place was to put to the litter box. The bathroom’s too small, so I set it in your room.”

Olivia’s room. Her room in the apartment she now shared with Margot, for the foreseeable future. Somebody pinch her.

Olivia stood, earning an aggrieved-sounding meow from Cat, who was probably sick of being cooped up in her crate, roomy though it was. “Thanks. I’ve got a mat that goes under it so she won’t track litter.”

Elle ducked low, peeking inside the carrier. It was difficult to see inside, with Cat tucked up in a tight little ball of dark, fluffy fur and glinting green eyes. “What’s her name?”

Olivia blushed. “Cat.”

Elle cocked her head, clearly confused. “How long have you had her?”

“Um.” She did the math. “Almost eight months.”

Elle frowned. “So . . . it’s not just a placeholder? Cat?”

Margot huffed out a quiet laugh and Olivia’s stomach somersaulted at the sound. “It’s from Breakfast at Tiffany’s. Holly Golightly names her—well, it isn’t hers, that’s the whole point. She names the cat Cat.” Margot’s lips twitched. “I’m assuming that’s where you got the name.”