Olivia shrugged. “They’re your friends.” And Margot was ninety-nine percent sure Brendon was trying to adopt Olivia into the fold. “I don’t want it to be weird.”
“Zero weirdness,” Margot said. “At least not for me?”
Olivia drew her lip between her teeth. “Have you, um, told them . . . ?”
About what? Saturday? Or years before?
Margot shook her head. She was going to assume Olivia meant the former, otherwise she probably would’ve brought it up before now. “It hasn’t really come up. With the wedding and everything.”
“Right.” Olivia nodded quickly. “Makes sense.”
Plus, there was that whole thing where Margot didn’t know how to begin explaining this to her friends. The past, the now, none of it. Knowing Brendon, he’d probably get it in his head that casual was a pit stop on the way to falling in love. He’d take it upon himself to play Cupid, to make their relationship into more.
He’d hassle her, his heart in the right place, but the road to hell was paved with good intentions. This, her and Olivia, felt precarious enough without added meddling. Even if it was well-meaning.
“This is kind of a weird ask, but . . . do you think we could keep this quiet?” Margot winced. “That sounds terrible. Jesus. It’s just, you’ve met Brendon. You’ve seen how he can be, and that’s only in the handful of interactions you’ve had.”
Olivia nibbled on her bottom lip, staring over Margot’s shoulder into the mirror. “They’re your friends, Mar. You can tell them or not tell them whatever you want.” She flashed Margot a smile and shrugged. “I’m just their wedding planner.”
And the wedding was in under a week. Olivia would no longer be just their wedding planner. Hell, she was already more than that. Margot’s roommate, Margot’s friend, Margot’s—something.
“It doesn’t have to be forever,” Margot said, her stupid voice cracking on the last word. Forever. Wow, way to imply that this thing between them had longevity. Fuck. Margot’s stomach knotted. Something else to talk about.
“I guess it wouldn’t hurt to, um, keep things under wraps until after the wedding,” Olivia said. “Keep things focused on Brendon and Annie.”
“Right.” Margot nodded quickly. “And, um, we can decide to tell them or not after.”
“Sure.” Olivia smiled and resumed tracing shapes into Margot’s skin. “The grocery store down the street is open twenty-four hours, right?”
“No. Only until midnight. Do you need something?” Something that couldn’t wait?
“Cat’s out of food. I thought I had another can in the pantry, but I don’t.” Olivia’s lips twisted to the side. “That, and I know Annie and Brendon said no gifts at the bachelor-bachelorette party, but I don’t want to show up empty-handed. I was thinking I’d bake cookies, and you have no sugar.”
Typical Liv, needing to bring a hostess gift. Margot smiled. “You know, most people bring alcohol or . . . I don’t know, a dip.”
Olivia’s brows rose. “A dip?”
“Yeah. You know, sour cream or hummus or—I don’t know. Dip.”
Brendon was the first of her friends to get married. The whole of her knowledge of bachelor and bachelorette parties came from movies like The Hangover and Bridesmaids.
Olivia smiled. “I guess I’m not most people, then.”
“No,” Margot agreed, warmth spreading through her chest. “You aren’t.”
Olivia ducked her head, but there was no mistaking the way her smile began to curl. “If I’m baking cookies, I need sugar. A few other odds and ends, too.”
“We’ve got break-and-bake dough in the fridge,” Margot said, erring on the side of simplicity. That, and it was hard, though not impossible, to fuck up premade dough.
Olivia wrinkled her nose. “I want to make real cookies. My grandma’s cookies.”
Oh, shit. “You mean the chocolate cookies with—”
“White chocolate chunks?” Olivia nodded. “Yup. My grandma’s tar cookies.”
Margot’s mouth watered. She stepped away from the counter and fished her phone out of her pocket. “It’s only after ten.”
Olivia cocked her head. “Want to go with me? Keep me company?”
Margot shrugged. She wasn’t doing anything. “Sure. Let me grab my jacket.”
Three minutes later, they were out on the rain-splattered sidewalk. Margot tugged her hood over her head and crossed her arms against the chill, setting off down the street in the direction of the QFC.