Page 65 of Count Your Lucky Stars
Elle’s brows pinched. “Are you okay?”
“Me?” Margot scoffed. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
Elle dropped her eyes and twisted the stem of her wineglass between her fingers. “I don’t know. You’ve been acting kind of...offlately.”
“Off,” she repeated.
“Off.” Elle chewed on her thumbnail. “Look, I know weddings aren’t really yourthing, so if you don’t want to be my Maid of Honor I can always ask—”
“Whoa, whoa,whoa.” Margot held up her hands, cutting Elle off before she could finish that truly absurd statement. “You could always askwho?” There was a tightness in the back of her throat that made swallowing painful. The thought of being replaced, of some random cousin of Elle’s taking her place and standing up there beside Elle on her special day, was so far outside the realm of acceptable that Margot’s whole body rejected the idea, muscles stiffening. “You don’t need to ask anyone else, Elle. I’m—I’m game. I’msogame.”
She’d be the most enthusiastic Maid of Honor Elle had ever seen. Margot would be Pinterest-level enthusiastic, queen of DIY hacks and rustic elegance—whatever the fuck that meant—and Ball mason jars and inspirational quotes with unattributable sources. She’d tattoolive, laugh, loveon her ass if it would make Elle happy.
“That’s good, because I don’t have anyone else to ask, and even if I did”—Elle’s smile wobbled—“there’s no one I’d rather have as my Maid of Honor than you.”
Aw,fuck. Margot’s vision swam, eyes flooding with tears. She ripped off her glasses and tossed them on the cushion, quickly pinching the bridge of her nose. “Shit, Elle. You’re going to make me fuck up my eyeliner. Do you know how hard I worked to get these wings even?”
“Hey.” Elle nudged Margot gently with her knee. “I haven’t wanted to push, but... what’s going on with you, Mar?”
She opened her mouth—
“And please don’t saynothing, because there’s obviously something.”
Margot puffed out her cheeks. Well, there wentthatplan.
Elle leaned closer and dropped her voice to a whisper. “Does this have something to do with Olivia?”
Margot jerked back. “What?” In an attempt to cover the way her voice cracked, Margot laughed. “Why would this have anything to do withLiv?”
Elle stared at her, smile small and gaze knowing. The skin between Margot’s shoulder blades itched, and she rolled her arms back.
“I don’t know.” Elle’s lips tipped up in a wry smile. “Maybe because you keep looking at Luke like you’re imagining eviscerating with him your eyes or brainstorming new and inventive ways you might torture him.”
“There’s no need to reinvent the wheel,” Margot muttered under her breath. “Or rack.”
Elle stared.
“Joking.” Margot huffed. “One hundred percent not serious.”
Elle’s brows rose.
“Fine.Ninety-nine percent not serious, and that one percent only wishes he’d step on a Lego.”
Elle sighed. “Margot.”
“Ugh.Do we really have to do”—she gestured vaguely, tipping her beer bottle back and forth between them—“this? My feelings are—”
Margot’s heart seized, panic gripping her as she stared across the fire at Luke and Olivia. Their legs were angled toward oneanother, knees touching, and Olivia spoke with her hands, animated when she answered his questions, her flushed face lighting up each time she laughed.
Margot drew her bottom lip between her teeth.
Fuck.
Her feelings.
Feelings.
Margot wasn’t supposed tohaveany feelings, not of thechest variety. God, her chestwasdoing all sorts of ridiculous things right now, clenching and fluttering, her heart pounding against her sternum like a battering ram.
