Page 25 of Count Your Lucky Stars
Margot let herself inside Darcy and Elle’s apartment for game night, leaving her boots at the door.No shoes insidewas Darcy’s rule, not Elle’s, but one Margot was happy to follow. As much as she enjoyedplayfullyruffling Darcy’s feathers, Margot had zero desire to discover what Darcy would do if she were to track dirt on the impeccable—if not impractical—cream-colored carpet.
Sitting on the floor with her back to the door, Elle didn’t so much as lift her head when Margot entered the living room. “There’s wine in the kitchen. Don’t worry, it’s the good stuff.”
Bygood stuff, Elle meantof the boxed variety, as opposed to Darcy’s favorite wine, the price as difficult to stomach as the name was to pronounce.Goodwas a bit of an overstatement in Margot’s book, but she’d take Franzia any day over a glass of wine so expensive she’d feel guilty drinking it.
“You do realize I could be anybody, right?” Margot veered to the right, careful not to slip as she stepped from carpet ontothe kitchen tile, her socks offering no grip. “I could’ve been a murderer for all you knew, and you invited me in.”
“Murderers don’t knock, Margot,” Elle said from the other room.
“You don’t know that.” Margot searched the cabinet for something sturdier than Darcy’s thin-stemmed wineglasses. Game night called for durability, not delicacy. “I’m sure that’s what they want you to think. Lull you into a false sense of security all while hiding in plain sight.”
“You’ve been watching too much true crime again, haven’t you?” Elle sounded amused.
“It was a true-crime podcast, actually.” Margot grabbed a stemless glass from the back of the cabinet and filled it with rosé before returning to the living room.
“I thought I heard voices.” Darcy stepped out from the hall. “Brendon and Annie still aren’t here?”
Elle shook her head. “Not yet. They had to stop by the nursery, remember?”
“Excuse me?” Margot must’ve misheard her. “Did you just saynursery?”
Darcy snickered. “I’m going to finish this report. If I’m not out by the time they get here, come get me.”
“Um, hello, can we please address what you just said about Brendon and Annie stopping by anursery?”
“Aplantnursery, Mar.” Elle giggled. “Oh my God. If you could see your face.”
“Okay, color me confused. It’s game night. What do we need plants for?”
Elle gestured to the coffee table, and for the first time, Margot actually examined everything Elle had laid out, beyond the gel pens and Sharpies. A spool of twine rested beside a pair of scissors, two differently sized hole punches, and a stack of cobalt-colored card stock. Two boxes of flat-bottomed glass globes had been shoved beneath the coffee table beside a folded plastic tarp.
Thisdidn’t look like game night. This looked like Margot was about to get suckered into her three least favorite letters—DIY.
Margot groaned. “But it’s game night.”
And she’d been looking forward to this for weeks. Letting loose with a little wine and trouncing her friends at board games. It was supposed to be the highlight of her week.
“We’ll totally have time for charades after,” Elle promised. “Annie’s swamped with work, and she asked if we could help her with the wedding favors.”
“They couldn’t, I don’t know, hand out mini bottles of booze instead?”
Elle gestured to the spread atop the coffee table. “They’re buying mini succulents so every guest can have their own little love fern.”
It was a bit of an inside joke between Brendon and Annie, a play on the love fern inHow to Lose a Guy in 10 Days. Brendon had gifted Annie with a miniature succulent, dubbing it their love fern, hard to kill.
“Cheesy, yet adorable,” Margot conceded.
Elle leaned back, resting her weight on her hands. “A littlecheesenever hurt anyone.” She wrinkled her nose. “Unless you’re lactose intolerant like Darcy, but that’s only if you’re being literal.”
Margot snorted. “True.”
“Come on, Mar.” Elle snagged a handful of markers and spread them out like a fan. “It’s arts and crafts! What’s not to love?”
“What’s not to love?” She set her wine on the table atop one of Darcy’s fancy marble coasters and lifted her left wrist. “I’m pretty sure I got carpal tunnel from addressing wedding invites, because I couldn’t climb for over a week.” She schooled her expression in an attempt to unequivocally express how serious this was. “I couldn’t masturbate without my elbow twinging, Elle.”
“Oh, boo-hoo.”
Margot took back every good thing she’d ever said about Elle, who was not actually a ray of sunshine but instead a heartless monster. “Excuse me, MissI have a girlfriend who will make me come whenever I damn well please.”
