Page 106 of Written in the Stars
The lock flipped, the door opening. The beautiful, haunting voice of Joni Mitchell singing “River” poured out into the hall as an arm rested against the doorframe, blocking her view into the apartment.
Margot.
A decidedly pissed-off-looking Margot. Darcy gulped andstood up straighter, smoothing her expression into a mask of disaffection no doubt undermined by the terra-cotta planter cradled in her arms.
“Margot.” Darcy dipped her chin in a polite greeting.
Margot glared.Hard.
Fuck. The air was stifling, the building’s heat turning the hall into a sauna. Darcy shifted the plant again and swept her hair over one shoulder.
“Elle’s not here.” Margot began to shut the door.
She had not hiked all the way to the market to buy this stupid, precious plant and then all the way up to Elle’s apartment only to get turned away. No. This was not her dead end. All she needed was a chance. Needed to try, needed Elle to know how she felt.
Darcy clenched her back teeth and shoved the boot of her toe in between the door and frame, wincing a bit when the door bounced off her foot. “Then where is she?”
“Alexa, stop.” The music cut off midverse. “In case you hadn’t noticed, it’s Christmas Eve. I have an hour-long drive ahead of meiftraffic’s clear, which it won’t be. All I want is to finish packing, hit the road, make it home before my dad eats all the gingerbread cookies, and then I want to drink several strong glasses of eggnog. Talking to you doesn’t rank very high on my to-do list. In fact, it doesn’t even warrant a spot. So, piss off, Darcy.”
“I just want to know where Elle is and then I’ll leave you alone.”
Margot narrowed her eyes. “Why do you care?”
“Look—”
“No, you look.” Margot let go of the door and leaned against the frame, crossing her arms over her chest and thrusting out her chin. “You don’t get to come here, demanding to see my best friend if you can’t even tell me why you want to see her.”
Darcy bit the side of her tongue. Not that she’d ever thought for a second Elle hadn’t told Margot about what had happened between them, but there was the confirmation. Confirmation that Darcy had fucked up.
She met Margot’s eyes so she’d see how sincere Darcy was. “I fucked up.”
Margot pursed her lips. “Huh. Something we agree on.”
Darcy huffed. “Well. Can you help meun-fuck up?”
“I could.” Margot’s way of making it painfully clear Darcy’s fate partially rested in her hands.
Between the nerves and the hike to Pike Place and her difficulty finding this plant, therightplant, Darcy was at her wits’ end. “Are yougoingto help me?”
Margot cocked her head, one slender brow arching sharply above the frames of her glasses. “Depends.”
“On?”
“Do you love her?”
That question. A flicker of fear lit up her brain, the part that signaled to her legs to flee the danger. Darcy planted her feet and gripped the plant in her arms tighter.
“I think I should tell that to Elle.”
Margot shoved her thumb under the ridge of her brow bone. “Shockingly, something else we agree on. Question is,areyou going to say something or are you gonna fuck up all over again?”
“Aiming to not fuck up. Hence the reason I’m here.”
Margot dropped her hand, eyes lowering to stare at the plant in Darcy’s arms. “What the fuck is that?”
Darcy cleared her throat, heat creeping up the back of her neck. “It doesn’t matter. Could you please just tell me where Elle is?”
Margot sighed. “Look. I told Elle I wasn’t a fan of this, thisfake datingshit you sprang on her. I told her from the beginning not to expend emotional labor you didn’t deserve. Quite frankly, I’m still not sure you deserve Elle because she’s my best friend and the greatest person I know. I willalwaysthink she deserves the absolute best and I don’t like you right now so in my book, you’re the worst. But who’s best for her isn’t up to me to decide. I pour the drinks and feed her ice cream and hold her hand when she cries and yeah, I give my opinion and plenty of advice, but Elle can make her own decisions. For whatever reason, she wants you. But so help me god, if you break her heart again, I will slash your tires, Darcy Lowell.”
