Page 95 of Written in the Stars
At least the baristas on shift had taken mercy on her, letting her use the store’s phone. Then they’d gone above and beyond, embodying the real spirit of the holiday season by pouring free peppermint tea in her until she’d thawed and Margot showed up with her car, Elle thankfully having left her keys and phone in the pocket of the jacket she’d checked at the hotel.
“I don’t want soup,” Elle mumbled.
For a moment, Margot was quiet. The song switched from “Love Is a Battlefield” to “I Fall Apart” by Post Malone and Elle’s chin wobbled.
“All right.” The freezer opened again. “I bought Chunky Monkey, Half Baked, Phish Food and”—there was rustling, followed by the sound of something wet hitting the floor, then more of Margot’s colorful swearing—“we’ve still got half a pint of Chocolate Therapy, but it’s been tucked behind the frozen peas so I think it might be freezer burned.”
Ah, the frozen peas. Without a doubt freezer burned, then. She and Margot only kept the frozen peas on hand in case of emergencies. They were cheaper than an icepack.
“Elle? Which do you want?”
Elle gulped in a breath of stagnant air beneath the blanket. “Both. Both is good.”
“I gave you four options. Whichboth?”
“Yes.”
Margot sighed and shut the freezer. A minute later, the blanket lifted, and Margot pressed something cold and hard against Elle’s cheek. Elle yelped. A spoon. Margot had pressed a spoon to her hot, puffy face.
With a flourish of her fingers, Margot gestured to the coffee table where she’d shoved some of the takeout containers aside, making room for the four pints of Ben and Jerry’s she’d lined up. “Ice cream therapy. Dig in.”
Elle adjusted the blanket around her shoulders like a cape and jabbed her spoon into the pint of Half Baked. Spoon laden with cookie dough goodness, Elle collapsed back against the couch and nibbled. That was enough energy expended.
“Okay, now that you have ice cream, you want to tell me aboutthis?” Margot gestured to the table and surrounding area.
“It’s not that bad,” Elle mumbled around her spoon. “I’m gonna clean it up.”
Margot sighed and dipped her own spoon into the Chunky Monkey. “Elle, it’s a mess.”
Itwasn’t. It was some takeout and some tissues. And paper. A cup. Socks. Elle’s eyes burned.
“You’re right.” It was a mess.Shewas a mess. “My mom’s right. Darcy’s right. I’m a mess.”
Margot’s eyes widened. “What? No. I didn’t say that. Darcy’s not right about anything. Fuck Darcy.” Margot set the ice cream down and crawled her way across the floor, heaving herself onto the couch and wrapping her arms around Elle, squeezing until Elle could barely breathe. “Say it with me. Fuck. Darcy.”
Elle shook her head. She couldn’t do it. Rendered mute, she sniffed instead.
“Elle, you’re not—” Margot sighed. “Okay, right now, you’re a little bit of a mess. But it’s temporary. You’ll clean this up and you’ll stop being a mess, yeah? Eat your ice cream.”
Elle shoved her spoon in her mouth and closed her eyes.
If only it were that easy. Clean up the mess and be okay. Problems solved. “’m not a Virgo, Mar.”
Margot leaned back, dropping her arms. “You’re right. It’s— Shit, Elle. Just... tell me what you did today. You’ve obviously been busy with”—she reached over the edge of the couch and grabbed a handful of crumpled paper off the floor—“lists! You’ve been making lists. Oh My Stars lists?”
Elle nodded.
Focus on work. That’s what she had planned to do after that awful first date with Darcy. Her plan had been waylaid, butshe could pick it up now. Who says heartbreak had to ruin her focus?
Margot stared down at the crinkled paper in her hand. “Asphyxiation, decapitation by elevator, burned alive in a tanning booth...” Margot looked up at her with startled eyes. “What the actual fuck, Elle? This is morbid.”
She pointed her spoon at the television. “Horror movie marathon. How would you die inFinal Destinationbased on your eighth house?”
“That’s... I don’t know what to say.” Margot scrunched the piece of paper back up and threw it across the room. “Moving on. What”—she tilted the paper to the side and furrowed her brow—“I can’t read this. It’s all smeared. What does this say?”
She shoved the paper in Elle’s face. Once Elle had uncrossed her eyes and pulled the paper back, she grimaced both because of what it said and because the paper was blotted with tears... snot, too. “This one’s dumb.”
“Does it involve death and dismemberment?” Margot grabbed the pint of Chunky Monkey off the table and cradled it in her lap.
