Margot groaned and slipped her glasses off, setting them down on her stomach. She rubbed her eyes, pressing hard until colors burst behind her lids. “No, God no. That’s not—of course it’s fantastic.” She exhaled harshly and lowered hands, blinking into the brightness of the living room. Her vision blurred softly at the edges until she slipped her glasses back on. “I’m happy for Elle—and Darcy—but it’s just . . .” She swallowed twice, throat aching. “It’s nothing. Forget I said anything.”
Margot’s eye burned, her lids itchy, like the skin was too tight. Fuck.
Olivia’s fingers curled around Margot’s ankle, thumb brushing the bare skin along the inside of her foot. “It doesn’t sound like nothing.”
“I’ll sound like a bitch.” Margot choked out a laugh. “Scratch that, I am a bitch.”
A good friend would be doing a fucking happy dance when their best friend got engaged, and here Margot was, sinuses burning, signaling the impending rush of tears.
Olivia made a soft sound of dissent. “You aren’t a bitch, Margot.”
She took a deep, pained breath and pinched the bridge of her nose, eyes scrunching. “I’m happy for Elle. I am. But—fuck.” Her stupid chin quivered. “There shouldn’t be a but. I should be happy, full stop, no qualifier. Just over-the-moon thrilled that my best friend is going to be marrying the love of her life.”
“You’re allowed to feel more than one emotion at a time,” Olivia said, squeezing Margot’s ankle gently. The sweep of her thumb back and forth was soothing, soft without tickling. “It doesn’t make you a bitch.”
“I feel like it makes me a bad friend,” Margot confessed.
“You’d be a bad friend if you decided to take your feelings out on Elle or Darcy, if you let your feelings change your friendship with them.”
“I don’t want to do that,” she agreed. “That’s the last thing I want.”
For Elle to think Margot was harboring anger or resentment about her good news. To let her feelings get in the way of their friendship, to push Elle away.
“I guess that’s the thing,” Margot whispered. “I don’t want my friendships to change.”
“And you’re worried they will?”
“I don’t see how they won’t.” Margot sniffed. “Elle’s going to be someone’s wife, Darcy’s wife. And that’s—I am happy. They’re perfect for each other. Darcy’s everything Elle ever talked about wanting.”
Despite being total opposites, neither ever asked the other to change, to be someone other than exactly who they were. They loved each other, flaws and all.
“I’m just so used to being Elle’s go-to, you know? The person she calls when she needs someone to talk to, a shoulder to cry on, her best friend, and now . . .”
“You’re worried you won’t be that person anymore.”
“I don’t want to lose her,” she confessed.
Margot didn’t want to lose any of her friends.
“You’re right,” Olivia said. “Elle’s going to be Darcy’s wife, but you’re still going to be her best friend. It’s apples and oranges. No one else can bring to the table what you do.” Olivia’s lashes swept against her cheeks when she lowered her face, smiling softly. “No one can replace you, Margot. You’re one of a kind.”
“One of a kind, huh?” Margot’s voice shook, heart rising into her throat. “Like one of those imperfect pieces of produce in that subscription box?”
Olivia’s bright bark of laughter made Margot’s heart swell further. She shook her head, earrings dancing against the sides of her neck. “What are you talking about?”
“You know.” Margot scooted back until she was sitting, propped against the arm. She wedged her toes under Olivia’s thigh. “The ugly produce no one wants but there’s nothing wrong with it, so they created a subscription box to reduce food waste. Watermelons with weird scars and funky-shaped squash and curly carrots. Bell peppers with extra little offshoots, appendages that look awfully phallic.” She shrugged. “You said apples and oranges and my brain kind of ran with it.”
“You are definitely one of a kind,” Olivia teased, smile as soft as the fingers now tracing the tops of Margot’s feet. “I mean it. You’re irreplaceable, and I can promise you that your friends don’t want to lose you anymore than you want to lose them.” Olivia’s eyes locked on Margot’s, the intensity of her gaze sending a shiver skittering down Margot’s spine. Olivia’s shoulders rose and fell, her full lips parting as she exhaled, and for a split second Margot could’ve sworn a tiny fleck of gold foil still clung to her bottom lip. “Trust me. I’d know.”