“They offer facials, too,” Margot added.
Olivia bit the inside of her cheek. “That’s nice.”
A heavy electronic dance beat filled the car, and Margot groaned, chuckling at the same time.
Olivia only let go of the wheel for a brief second to crank up the volume until the bass thumped, shaking her seat. “Come on. You know you love this song.”
“No.” Margot shouted over the music. “I don’t. And I still don’t understand how you thought they were saying like a cheese stick.”
“Excuse me for not knowing what a G6 was when I was seventeen.”
“How does cheese stick make even a modicum of sense? I think you need to get your ears checked.” Margot turned the volume down until they could speak without shouting. “Maybe if you didn’t listen to your music this loud, you wouldn’t be constantly hearing the lyrics wrong.”
“Constantly?” Olivia scoffed.
Margot spared her a quick glance, brows flicking upward. “You thought Madonna said like a virgin, touched for the thirty-first time.” Margot snickered. “How the fuck does that even work?”
“Shut up.” Olivia flicked her turn signal, taking the next exit. “I was nine when I thought that! I didn’t even know what that song meant.”
“Mm-hmm, sure.”
“I mean it, I didn’t—”
The song cut off abruptly and a soft chime came from the speakers, her phone connected to the speakers via Bluetooth.
Olivia glanced at the display screen. Dad was calling.
She glanced briefly over at Margot. “Do you mind if I take this? I’ll be quick.”
Ever since his heart attack, she made a point of answering when Dad called. Not that she hadn’t before, but . . . she didn’t want to risk sending him to voicemail if he needed her. Especially since she was usually the one reaching out, the one calling and checking in.
From the corner of Olivia’s eye, Margot shrugged. “No worries. Don’t rush on my account.”
“Thanks.” Olivia pressed her thumb into the button on the wheel to answer the call. “Hey, Dad. I hope that it’s okay you’re on speaker. I’m driving.” Olivia licked her lips. “I’m in the car with Margot.”
The line crackled for a second before Dad said, “Speaker’s fine, Livvy. Hi, Margot.”
Margot sat up straighter. “Hi, Mr. Grant. It’s been a while. How are you doing?”
Her voice changed subtly, the pitch rising. Olivia’s eyes flickered over briefly to discover Margot nibbling on her bottom lip, looking nervous.
“Hanging in there. Keeping busy.”
“Hopefully not too busy,” Olivia interjected.
Dad’s sigh was exaggerated, heavily put upon. “Do you hear what I deal with, Margot? You don’t hassle your folks like this, do you?”
Margot laughed. “They’re usually the ones hassling me, sir.”
Dad chuckled. “The way it’s supposed to be. Livvy here worries too much.”
Olivia rolled her eyes. “What’s up, Dad?”
“Not much,” Dad said. “Just hadn’t heard from you in a few days.”
A few days? That couldn’t be possible. She’d last talked to Dad on . . . Oh God, it really had been a few days. At least four, whereas normally she tried to call every other day, if not daily, for at least a quick checkin.
“The wedding’s been keeping me pretty busy, actually,” she said. That and Margot, but Dad absolutely did not require details there. “The singer in the band we hired for the reception was rushed to the hospital yesterday with a ruptured appendix. He’s fine, but we’re obviously out a band, so I had to make a few calls to find a suitable DJ—”
“Livvy,” Dad interjected. “It’s fine. I just thought I’d check in with you for once. Make sure Margot’s not getting you into too much trouble.”
Margot snickered. “Only the best kind of trouble, sir.”
Dad barked out a laugh, and if Olivia weren’t driving she’d have slumped down in her seat, mortified. She reached for the air vent, aiming it directly at her face.
“Good, good. That’s what I like to hear,” Dad said. “Livvy could use a little fun in her life.”
“Oh, geez,” she muttered under her breath, still loud enough for Dad to hear through the speakers, apparently, because he only laughed harder.
And Margot, traitor that she was, joined in, laughing brightly and chiming in with, “I couldn’t agree more.”