Using the sleeve of her sweater, she mopped beneath her eyes. “I’m just worried I messed up. What I said wasn’t great. I don’t know.”
Like Margot, everything Olivia had said had come from a place of care only . . . her words had been reactionary, in response to Margot pushing her out of her comfort zone. She didn’t regret what she’d said as much as she regretted the way she’d said it, lashing out. Not fighting fair. Margot had made it clear she cared about Olivia, but had she?
“This isn’t your first rodeo, kid. You know not every argument means it’s over.”
No, but sometimes all it took was one argument. And this was their first, their first real one, not a mere difference of opinion. It could be make-or-break. Besides . . . “Look how my first rodeo, as you call it, turned out. That’s a shit—crappy example.”
Dad snorted. “Fair point. But Margot’s not Brad.”
“Thank God,” she muttered, making Dad laugh.
“What is it you said that you’re so worried about? Something about Margot having a fear of abandonment?”
She nodded. “It’s—not just me. It’s with her friends, too, and . . . I stand by what I said. Just not how I said it.”
Dad puffed out his cheeks. “And she wanted you to stay? To wait until after the wedding to drive here?”
She nodded.
“And you left anyway?”
“I had a reason,” she defended. “And I’m coming back tomorrow.”
Dad squeezed her shoulder. “Sometimes the things that trigger our fears don’t make the most sense. Sometimes they aren’t the most logical.”
She winced. The same could be argued for her own actions. “True.”
Except maybe Margot’s fear was rooted in something logical. Not the truth, but Margot’s version of it, her version of the past that she’d believed to be true up until only today. Believing that eleven years ago Olivia had chosen Brad over her. That Olivia had thrown their plans out the window in favor of following Brad across the state.
“You want to know how you make it right?”
She lifted her head and blew out a breath, ruffling the strands of hair that never quite made it into her sloppy bun in the first place, others having escaped confinement since. “I am all ears.”
Dad chuckled and patted her arm. “You show up tomorrow and you keep showing up.”
Olivia nodded. Show up and keep showing up. She could absolutely do that. Prove to Margot that she was in this, all in. “Thanks, Dad.”
“Anytime.” He stepped back and tucked his thumbs in the front pockets of his jeans. “You eat dinner yet?”
She shook her head and pressed a hand to her stomach. “No, I was too nervous to eat.”
Dad’s mouth twisted briefly before he jerked his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the kitchen. “I made chili. With ground turkey, don’t worry. I’m sticking to the heart-healthy diet.”
Her stomach growled. “Sounds good. Is it okay if I spend the night here?” She bit her lip, shrugging softly. “Maybe we could find a movie or something?”
As long as she hit the road no later than ten, she should make it downtown with time to spare.
“Sure thing, kid. You should know you’re always welcome wherever I live.”
She smirked. “I’ll withhold judgment on visiting you wherever you move, in case that whole clothing-optional community idea grows on you.”
“I don’t know. I’m starting to think Margot’s not the best influence.” Dad shook his head, lips twitching like he was fighting a smile. “I’ll go heat you a bowl. You want to find something on TV?”
“Sure thing.” She smiled. “Thank you, Dad.”
He winked and disappeared around the corner into the kitchen.
She collapsed onto the couch and yawned. The stress of the day—skiing, Margot getting hurt, her panic, their argument, the drive down here, all of it—plus the lack of sleep from the night before, seemed to be catching up with her.
Before reaching for the remote, she fished inside her pocket for her phone, swiping and pulling up her text thread with Margot. She’d promised to text, and she was going to keep her promise.
Olivia （9:08 p.m.）： Hey. Made it to Dad’s safely. He’s okay. We had a good talk, cleared the air.
She stared at her screen. It was probably silly to wait for Margot to text back. It was the last night of Annie and Brendon’s bachelor-bachelorette trip. Margot should be spending it with her friends, not—her phone vibrated in her hand.