Page 102 of Written in the Stars
She could fill in the blanks, but that was all she ever did. Fill in other people’s blanks. Darcy’s blanks. “Spell it out for me.”
“My sister has trouble letting people in. She’s scared, Elle.She doesn’t think I know. Darcy does everything she can to keep me in the dark because she’s got it in her head that she’s got to be strong all the time, but I know her better than she realizes. I’ve been pushing her to put herself out there because if I didn’t, she wasn’t ever going to. Because she thinks it’s easier to be alone than risk falling in love and getting hurt again.”
Elle shook her head. “I understand. I get it. But your sister doesn’t love me, okay? She’s not—we’re not anything, okay?”
Brendon cut his eyes. “Nothing? You don’t feel anything for her? Nothing.”
That’s not what she said. “Look, Brendon. I love that you care about your sister. You’re a great brother, clearly. And I like you and I like working with you. You’re a good friend. But it’s not fair for you to try to turn this around and make it about what I feel, okay? Because I’ve been up-front about what I’m looking for since day one. Since day one I told Darcy what I wanted. I never stopped wanting to find someone to fall in love with. My soul mate. And Darcy knows that.” Her next inhale was shaky. “I understand that your sister has baggage, but we all have baggage, Brendon. We’ve all got shit and I’m—” She sniffed, stupid eyes watering. “I’m tired of having to constantly put myself out there and not be met halfway. That’s not fair.”
Elle wasn’t so naïve as to believe life was fair, definitely notlove, or at least the pursuit of it, but she wished she didn’t have to keep stripping her skin off and showing the whole world her tender heart to get her point across.
Brendon bit his knuckle and nodded.
Elle’s head ached, her eyes burning with tears unshed. Shestood, arms dropping to her side. “And no offense, but next time, if Darcy has something to say to me, she can say it herself. I... I deserve that.”
Margot would be so proud. But Elle would celebrate that tiny victory later. Right now, she felt like she was going to either cry or be sick and doing either in the middle of Starbucks sounded like a recipe for humiliation.
Brendon covered his mouth with his hand and nodded, eyes full of despair yet nowhere close to what Elle felt. “Yeah. That’s... you’re right.”
She was. She didn’t need Brendon to keep acting as Darcy’s emotional intermediary, constantly translating.
Elle clenched her back teeth until her jaw creaked. She needed to get out of here. “I’m gonna... I’ll see you around, okay?”
She didn’t wait for Brendon to reply. Turning on her heel, Elle booked it out of the coffee shop, stepping out into the cool, gloomy afternoon light. Gray skies and low-hanging clouds promised rain.
Elle stopped at the crosswalk and stared hard at the red light until she saw spots, the glow burned into her glassy eyes.
I deserve that.
Maybe if she kept saying it, she’d start to believe it. Not in her head, but in her heart, where for her, it mattered most.
Chapter Twenty-One
Darcy’s apartment was quiet in a way that had nothing to do with noise.
She’d always appreciated that her neighbors were considerate and the noises from traffic never penetrated the serene little neighborhood pocketed in downtown. This was different. Never before had the loudest sound inside her apartment been the ever-persistent thud of her heart.
Darcy cradled her coffee cup against her chest and spun in a slow circle. Perhaps the loudest sound wasn’t the thud of her heart, but the echoes of Elle that lingered in the kitchen and on the couch, the floor, the shelves, the Christmas tree beside the window. The curious hum Elle had made when running her fingers down the spines of Darcy’s books. The sweet chime of her laughter in the kitchen when she’d dunked her finger in the pancake batter and dotted a dollop on Darcy’s cheek. How that laughter had evolved into the prettiest moan that had resulted in burned pancakes and a blaring smoke alarm and sheepish smiles and Darcy whispering the wordsfuck itagainst Elle’s neck.
The longer she stood studying her apartment, the less quiet it seemed.
How the hell was Darcy supposed to get rid of anecho? A sage smudge stick? Even that sounded like something Elle would say, and she would’ve gotten a kick out of the look on Darcy’s face when she suggested it.
Darcy glared at her bookshelf and chewed on the inside of her cheek. No, she’d do things her way. Erasing all traces of Elle would be her first step, a sound one. She’d scrub her apartment from top to bottom, bust out the Ajax, then she’d spackle over the void with all new furnishings if that’s what it took.
Erase all traces.
Darcy inhaled deeply and set her coffee cup on the table. She could do this.
She’d alphabetized the shelves by author’s last name. An hour later, they were now alphabetized by title, books lined neatly in a row, nary a one sticking out farther than the rest. Darcy had double-checked, taken a goddamn ruler to the shelves to make sure. Elle might’ve touched those spines, but not in that order. And she’d never touch them again. Darcy bit the inside of her cheek and nodded.
Don’t think about it.
Next, Darcy hauled the box of rosé over to the sink and twisted the nozzle, pink wine swirling down the drain. The wine bladder went into the trash and the box into recycling. Kitchen back to normal, Darcy moved back to the living room, checking off items from her mental to-do list, spring cleaning in the middle of winter.
She got down on her hands and knees and fished out the gelpen that had rolled beneath her television stand.Indigo Sky. Darcy frowned at the pen. It was a close match to the shade of Elle’s eyes.
Don’t think about it.
