“I hope that’s okay,” Olivia offered belatedly, cringing slightly. “It’s hard to keep her off the furniture.”
More like impossible. Cat did what Cat wanted to do. Olivia could fuss, but Cat had no keeper.
Margot shrugged. “It’s fine with me.”
The front door swung open and Brendon stepped inside, cardboard boxes stacked two high in his hands. Annie followed, carrying Olivia’s vase of flowers. Olivia had drained the water, but the purple variegated carnations were fresh, purchased just yesterday. It had seemed a shame to throw them away. Annie set them atop the breakfast nook and smiled. “That’s the last of it.”
“Thank you so much.” Olivia tucked her hair behind her ears. “I—I really appreciate you all helping. You didn’t have to.”
“You’re helping make the wedding of our dreams happen, and in under a month.” Brendon shook his head. “Hauling a few boxes a couple of blocks is the least we can do.”
“I mean, that’s my job.” She laughed. They were paying her to help. Well, they were paying Lori, and Lori was paying her, but same difference.
“Still.” Brendon rocked back on his heels. “Any friend of Margot’s is a friend of ours.”
Margot averted her eyes.
Friends. So that’s the story Margot was going with. All right. Nice to know.
“Well, thank you.” She drummed her fingers against the outsides of her thighs. “Really.”
Brendon smiled, eyes crinkling. He turned to Margot. “We should probably get out of your hair. Let you settle in.”
“It’s been a long day,” Annie said, nose wrinkling softly in sympathy.
“You have lots of catching up to do,” Elle added. “Even more so now, considering . . .”
They were roommates.
Funny how years ago—before they’d grown apart and long before they’d fallen into bed—they’d talked about what it would be like, living together. It had been the plan. Graduate and move to the city, together. Margot had painted a pretty picture with her words. Late nights and libraries and watching the sunrise from rooftops, of all-night diners and coffee shops, parties that offered more than beer and Everclear. A city where all their dreams could come true. Olivia still had a corkboard hidden away in her closet back home, covered in purple-and-gold UW paraphernalia.
Olivia had never dreamed they’d live together under circumstances like these. It would’ve required her, at fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, to have imagined a future where she didn’t get that scholarship she needed, where she went to WSU instead so as to not burden Dad financially, where she and Margot stopped speaking, where she married Brad and spent a decade stuck in neutral, spinning her wheels before divorcing him, moving back home—a million bad decisions she tried not to beat herself up over because the past was the past.
Everyone slowly migrated in the direction of the door.
“See you for the cake tasting,” Brendon said.
Olivia nodded. “Looking forward to it.”
Elle waved as they disappeared down the hall. Margot shut the door, fingers lingering on the lock, her back to Olivia. Reality set in, and along with it, an oppressive shroud of silence. For the first time in eleven years, she and Margot were alone together. Really, truly alone. No one to barge in, no interruptions.
Olivia cleared her throat. “Thanks for letting me stay here.”
“No big.” Margot slipped past her, arms brushing. “You want something to drink?”
She could use a margarita the size of her head right about now, but she wasn’t about to make requests. Hard alcohol was probably a bad idea. It might’ve taken the edge off, but the last thing Olivia needed was to feel more unsteady than she naturally did around Margot. “Sure.”
Olivia hovered in the doorway of the kitchen while Margot ducked inside the fridge. Margot shut the door with her elbow, a beer held in each hand. “Here.”
Olivia stared at the bottle of proffered beer, its neck dangling from between Margot’s fingertips, her nails short and neat, painted a shade of red so dark Olivia had first thought they were black. If her hand shook when she reached out to take the bottle, it was only because it had been a long day and the adrenaline was wearing off. “Thanks.”
Margot lifted her own beer to her mouth, tipping it back, throat jerking when she swallowed. She lowered her bottle, tongue darting out against her bottom lip. A smudge of ruby lipstick lingered on the mouth of the brown glass.