Olivia crept even closer to the edge of the couch until her knee gently butted up against Margot’s right arm. “You explained it really well.”
Margot turned her head, and, without makeup on, Olivia could make out the tiny spray of freckles on the bridge of her nose. The left corner of her mouth rose in a half-hearted smile. “Thanks.” She lowered the screen on her laptop before setting it on the coffee table. “All right. Roommate logistics.”
“Right.” Olivia nodded. “I made a list.”
Margot’s brows rose. “You made a list?”
“Just to organize my thoughts. I didn’t want to forget anything.” Olivia smoothed the edges of the paper against her bare thigh. “I haven’t had a roommate since freshman year of college—I lived with Brad, but that was different—so this is all kind of new.”
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 passed personal a 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 whole plucking Margot’s vibrator up off the floor after her cat had tried to maul it thing. Not I know what face you make when you come personal. 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 called them 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 by do 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 a week would go by without her speaking to Margot, let alone years. But of course 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 this still difficult 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.”