“Oh, Jesus.” Margot slapped herself on the forehead. “Fuck, Elle, I’m sorry. Holy shit.” She grasped Elle’s hand, shifting it side to side and oohing when the light caught on the facets, reflecting a sparkling rainbow against Elle’s sweatshirt. “Damn, go Darcy.”
“Right?” Elle laughed and held her hand out, wiggling her fingers, and Margot kind of loved that Elle’s nail polish was chipped, that she hadn’t bothered fixing it just because she had a ring to show off. It was very Elle.
“I think you said something about a winter wedding?” Her eyes flitted to the patio door. Luke had a bottle of beer in each hand and was heading straight for Olivia. He handed her a bottle, leaned in and whispered something in her ear, then tapped the neck of his bottle against hers with a laugh that Olivia returned. “Did you and Darcy discuss . . . um . . .”
“Dates?” Elle supplied, eyes crinkled at the corners. “A little. Nothing set in stone. We’re kind of torn—December carries a lot of significance for us, but it’s also a hectic month, and do we really want to organize a wedding around the holidays?” Elle shrugged. “I don’t know. Ideally, I’d like to avoid the month of January. Not that I have anything against the month, but Venus is retrograde from the first to the twenty-ninth, so . . .”
“Yeah, probably not a bad plan to avoid that if you can help it.”
Luke took a seat on the empty cushion beside Olivia, close enough that their thighs touched. He snagged the bag of marshmallows off the patio deck and offered it to Olivia with a broad smile. “Marshmallow?”
“Thanks.” Olivia beamed.
“。 . . definitely want to avoid the week of Christmas, you know?” Elle continued.
Margot nodded. “Mm-hmm.”
Luke passed Olivia a roasting stick, holding her beer for her while she skewered her marshmallow and set it over the fire.
“。 . . not like Darcy or I have much family that would be flying in, but I do have my cousins over in New Jersey, and Mom would probably have a fit if I didn’t at least invite them, you know? And flights are going to be more expensive around the holidays, so that won’t work . . .”
Luke said something that made Olivia laugh, this time so hard she threw her head back, golden hair spilling over her shoulders and down her back, her beanie slipping and her eyes shutting. Luke bit his lip, staring unabashedly.
Margot narrowed her eyes. So far the guy had done very little to ingratiate himself to Margot.
Olivia, on the other hand, seemed to be eating it up.
Literally.
When a tendril of inky smoke curled from the crusted black shell of the marshmallow Olivia accidentally burned, Luke whistled. “Here.” He handed Liv a preassembled smore, golden-brown marshmallow oozing out from between the graham crackers. “You can have mine.”
“Oh.” Olivia accepted it from him with a smile. “Thanks.”
“Hold on, you’ve got a little something . . .”
Seriously? Luke reached out, thumbing away a smudge of chocolate at the edge of her bottom lip.
Olivia wasn’t a toddler. She could wipe her own mouth.
Luke smiled affably and popped his thumb into his mouth with a wink.
Olivia ducked her chin, cheeks turning a rosy shade of pink. “Um, thanks.”
“Happy to be of service.”
Margot rolled her eyes. Could this guy possibly be more textbook?
“Earth to Margot.” Elle snapped her fingers. She frowned. “Did you hear what I said?”
“Of course I was listening. You said the thing about the stuff, um . . .” Shit. Margot winced. “Sorry?”
Elle’s brows pinched. “Are you okay?”
“Me?” Margot scoffed. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
Elle dropped her eyes and twisted the stem of her wineglass between her fingers. “I don’t know. You’ve been acting kind of . . . off lately.”
“Off,” she repeated.
“Off.” Elle chewed on her thumbnail. “Look, I know weddings aren’t really your thing, so if you don’t want to be my Maid of Honor I can always ask—”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Margot held up her hands, cutting Elle off before she could finish that truly absurd statement. “You could always ask who?” There was a tightness in the back of her throat that made swallowing painful. The thought of being replaced, of some random cousin of Elle’s taking her place and standing up there beside Elle on her special day, was so far outside the realm of acceptable that Margot’s whole body rejected the idea, muscles stiffening. “You don’t need to ask anyone else, Elle. I’m—I’m game. I’m so game.”