Margot hugged the book she was holding to her chest and scowled. “Are you serious?”
Olivia drew her knees up and ducked her chin, feigning interest in the purple polish on her toes so Margot wouldn’t see her blush. “Unfortunately.”
She knew how it sounded, how it made her sound—pathetic. That this was Margot she was talking to only magnified her shame. Margot had always been so self-assured, so confident, so what you see is what you get, and if you don’t like it, tough. Olivia had wished she were like that, that she cared less about what people thought of her. She was trying, but it wasn’t easy, and with Brad, she’d never stood a chance, their relationship broken for so long there’d been no fixing it.
Giving in had been easier than pushing back, less exhausting than arguing. When she was in it, too close to see the forest for the trees, it was easy to convince herself that giving was natural, that it was what made a marriage work, last. It took Brad asking for the one thing she wouldn’t give for her to realize her concessions didn’t count as compromises, not when she was the only one ever giving. Brad never met her in the middle, never even came close.
Margot’s cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright, and her scowl furious. Her jaw ticked, her nostrils flaring delicately. “He didn’t deserve you, Liv.”
Olivia’s tongue felt thick in her mouth. Maybe not, maybe Brad hadn’t deserved her, but he’d wanted her for longer than a week, which was more than Olivia could say for Margot. “I don’t know if it’s about deserving, but thank you.”
Margot turned the book over in her hands, scowl softening as she read the back. “Mind if I borrow this one?”
Olivia’s mouth popped open. “No. No, go for it. Help yourself.”
“Thanks.” Margot traced the swooping letters that made up the title. “I saw someone talking about it online. I guess it’s getting adapted?”
The tension knotting her shoulders loosened. “I heard that, too.”
She should’ve known Margot wasn’t going to judge her for what she liked or ask her to tuck away parts of herself like Brad had. Just like she should’ve known Margot wouldn’t call her weak for putting up with Brad and his bullshit for too long.
She should’ve known she was safe with Margot.
Margot crawled across the carpet on her knees and set her borrowed book down on the edge of the coffee table before dragging one of Olivia’s half-unpacked boxes closer, two fingers tucked around the edge of the cardboard. She peeked inside. “You’ve got more books in here.”
Olivia’s heart crept inside her throat. “Those aren’t—”
Too late. Margot had already reached inside, plucking one of the books from the depths of the box, brows inching their way toward her hairline as she scanned the cover. “Hole-Hearted to Whole-Hearted: Moving On and Starting Over.”
Heat licked at the sides of Olivia’s face. “That’s not mine.”
Margot stared.
“Okay, it’s mine,” Olivia amended, squirming under Margot’s curious stare. “But I didn’t buy it.” She coughed. “My, uh, my dad bought it. For me. He thought it would be helpful or something. He’s supported all my decisions, but he only understands not being married anymore from the standpoint of . . . grief. And there is that, but for me it’s all tangled up with relief, too.”
Margot flipped the book over, skimming the back, just like she had Olivia’s romance novels. “Was it?”
“Was it what?”
Margot looked up. “Helpful.”
“Oh.” She tucked her hair behind her left ear and shrugged. “I guess? It talks about setting boundaries and looking to the future instead of wasting time playing the blame game. That just because your ex wasn’t the right person for you doesn’t mean that person isn’t out there.” She smiled. “Nothing I didn’t already know.”
Whether she believed it was a different story. Or if they were out there, what were the chances she would be the right person for them, too? Life was far from fair; it would be just her luck that her perfect person would find her wanting.
Margot set the book back into the box before she reached out and plucked her old friendship bracelet off the table, rolling it between her fingers. The knotted ends were frayed, the black letters on the pastel rainbow beads faded from wear. Her lips quirked at the corners. “Watch out using that phrase around Brendon.” She huffed gently. “Right person.”