Page 22 of Count Your Lucky Stars
Margot folded her arms atop her knees. “Feel free to tell me to fuck off, but can I ask you a personal question?”
Something about the way she’d phrased that, straddling the line between bluntness and propriety, made Olivia laugh. It was so perfectly Margot. “I think we passedpersonala while ago, don’t you?”
It was only after the words were out that she realized how Margot might take them. Olivia had only meant with the wholeplucking Margot’s vibrator up off the floor after her cat had tried to maul itthing. NotI know what face you make when you comepersonal. But that, too.
Margot’s tongue swept against her bottom lip. “You and Brad wanted different things. What does that mean?”
Olivia dragged her eyes from Margot’s mouth before she got caught staring. “It’s kind of a long story.”
Margot’s expression shuttered. “If you don’t want to talk about it—”
“No, that’s not it.” She didn’t relish talking about it, no, but more than that she didn’t know where to start. It was a mess. A drama-filled mess. “Long story short, Brad wanted a baby and I didn’t.”
Children had never been and would never be what she wanted, and she’d told Brad that from day one, but then she’d turned twenty-six and he’d started dropping hints. He’d calledthem jokes at first, and she’d rolled her eyes and laughed—her mistake. But it kept happening. And then one day Brad had asked her point-blank when they were going to start a family. The saddest part was that all along, she’d been under the impression they already were a family.
Margot frowned. “You never wanted kids.”
“He thought I would change my mind, I guess.”
Olivia had budged on practically everything else; Brad had assumed this—a baby—would be the same.
“Brad thought you would change your mind.” Margot’s eyes narrowed. “Or he thought he could change it for you?”
Olivia forced a laugh past the lump in her throat. “Am I really that transparent?”
She’d always admired Margot’s quiet confidence, how Margot knew what she wanted and she didn’t let anyone stop her from going after it. How easily she could tune out other people’s opinions of her or her dreams. Olivia wasn’t built that way, wasn’t brave like Margot was, didn’t know how to live bydo what you love and fuck the rest. It took Olivia forever to make decisions, and she cared too much about what people thought. It wasn’t anything for her to be proud of, but she’d never felt quite so ashamed of it as she did now, Margot looking at her like she felt sorry for her.
“I guess I just know you.” Margot rested her head against the back of the couch. “Or I did.”
Did.Olivia hated that, that the entirety of their friendship existed in the past tense. Back when they were in school, she never would have imagined the possibility that aweekwould go by without her speaking to Margot, let aloneyears. But ofcourse she wouldn’t have. No one ever dreams of their problems when they think about the future.
“Anyway, Brad wanted a baby and I didn’t, and when I made it crystal clear he seemed to accept it. Or I thought he did.” For a split second, her chest constricted, making it difficult to breathe. “I hadn’t told my dad the specifics, but he knew things between Brad and I weren’t great and I wasn’t happy. He suggested we go to couples counseling, which we did,once. It didn’t do much because Brad was different there... more open, but less honest? If that makes sense.”
Margot nibbled on her lip, listening intently.
“After that didn’t work, Dad finally told me if I wasn’t happy, I should... consider my options. Which was surprising, because Dad always got along with Brad. I mean, they still get along, which is good. I’m glad Dad has someone in town who he could call if he needed something. Anyway, I didn’t want to. Consider my options. I made a commitment. I figured every couple has a rough patch.” Olivia picked at her nails. How was thisstilldifficult to talk about? “Then Emmy Caldwell—you remember her from school, right?—showed up at my front door to tell me she and Brad had been sleeping together for the past six months and she was pretty sure she was pregnant with his baby.”
“Jesus, Liv,” Margot murmured. “That’s...shit.”
Olivia sniffled then laughed, even though it wasn’t funny. It was either laugh or cry and she’d cried enough over Brad to last a lifetime. “It was pretty awful. I was shocked? I don’t—maybe I shouldn’t have been. There were probably signs, and the fact that I’d missed them speaks to how bad things between Bradand me had become. Anyway, I moved back in with my dad and I filed for divorce and we didn’t have many assets—we were renting the house from his parents—and he didn’t contest the filing, so it all moved pretty quickly. Within six weeks, we were divorced.”
“Damn, Liv. I don’t really know what to say.” Margot reached out and squeezed Olivia’s shoulder.
Olivia didn’t mean to, but she swayed into Margot’s touch, into the warmth of her hand seeping through the thin cotton of Olivia’s T-shirt.
She’d received plenty of warnings and advice before moving to Seattle, from Dad and from the internet. No one had ever warned her of the very specific loneliness that came with living in a city where you knew no one, how easy it was to become touch-starved.Of courseshe leaned into Margot’s touch. She was honestly surprised she didn’t climb into Margot’s lap andpurr.
“There’s nothingtosay, really. It was a mess.” She snorted. “Want to know the real kicker?”
Margot dropped her hand and cringed. “Do I?”
“Turns out, Emmy wasn’t even pregnant. Total false alarm. She found out and didn’t say anything to Brad because she was worried he’d... I don’t know, change his mind or something.” Which he had. He’d called and left voicemails and finally knocked on Olivia’s front door, begging her to come back, alternating between issuing apologies and being irate when she didn’t swoon. It was too late for that. “Long story short, I married the wrong guy. Wrong person.”
Her heart stuttered when all Margot did was stare.
“Anyway, enough about me.” Olivia curled her fingers around the edge of the list of roommate logistics she’d compiled, leaving damp fingerprints behind that turned the paper translucent. “I’ll just start at the top here. Laundry.”
“It might help if I told you where that was, huh?” Margot rolled her eyes at herself. “It’s in the basement, which is significantly less creepy than it sounds. Promise. You’ve got to use your key—the one for the outside door—to get inside, so it’s pretty secure. The lighting’s a fluorescent nightmare, but they put in new washers and dryers last year. Everything’s high-efficiency, so you don’t have to worry about wasting umpteen quarters to make sure your shit’s dry.”
