One of Margot’s hands rose, cradling the back of Olivia’s head, fingers threading through her hair. Her hand trembled, or maybe it was Olivia that was trembling. It was hard to tell, pressed so close, Olivia’s knuckles aching from the ferocity with which she clutched at Margot’s jacket, keeping her from going far. Keeping her from going anywhere.
A throat cleared from somewhere behind her, and with great reluctance, Olivia loosened her stranglehold on Margot’s coat. She lifted her head and froze.
Luke smiled, albeit awkwardly. “Looks like you fell pretty hard there.”
Olivia’s heart stuttered over one beat then sped, crashing against the wall of her chest as she met Margot’s eyes.
Yeah. She had.
Chapter Eighteen
Margot glared at the purple bruise mottling the side of her left foot. Her pinky toe was swollen, double the size it was supposed to be. It throbbed in time with her pulse, an annoyance more than anything, though when she put pressure on it, pain licked at the top of her foot, radiating all the way to her ankle.
A knock sounded against the door. Not the one that led out into the hotel hall, but the door adjoining her room to Olivia’s.
Margot tried to swallow, her mouth suddenly dry. She stole a stuttered breath in, air whistling between her lips. “Come in.”
Olivia poked her head into the room. In the time since they’d returned to the hotel, she’d changed into a pair of leggings and an oversized hoodie. The arms were too long, slipping past her wrists and over the back of her hands, hiding all but the tips of her fingers. She shoved her sleeves up to her elbows and shut the door, leaning against it, leaving the entire room between them. The space felt larger than it really was. “Hey. How are you doing?”
Awful. Better now that Olivia was here.
Margot sniffed and shrugged, dropping her gaze to the embroidered coverlet folded at the foot of the bed. “You know. Been better.”
“Your foot?” Olivia shoved away from the door, approaching the bed where Margot lay, three pillows behind her back keeping her propped up, another stack keeping her foot elevated. “How’s it doing?”
Margot pressed her lips together, offering a wry smile. “Hurts like hell. Looks even worse.” She sat up, adjusting the pillows, wincing at the sharp twinge that traveled along the side of her foot from her pinky to her ankle. “Gnarly, right? I took two extra-strength Advil and am hoping they kick in sometime this century.” She snagged a spare pillow from beside her and hugged it. “But I think Luke’s assessment was right. It’s not broken. I can move it, it just hurts like a bitch when I do. I guess it’s only badly bruised.” She bared her teeth in a grimace. “Same as my pride, apparently.”
Talk about feeling like a complete idiot. Not only had she wiped out, but she’d done it publicly, in full view of a dozen skiers. Olivia and Luke had had a front-row seat, and granted, she’d been more focused on the pain that anything else in the moment, but she had a vague recollection of several small children pointing at her. Yikes.
Olivia nibbled on her bottom lip. An hour after their kiss and Margot would swear she could still taste the buttery sweetness of Olivia’s vanilla-flavored ChapStick.
“Why would you do that, Margot?” Olivia asked. She shook her head slowly. “I mean, no offense, but you are terrible at skiing.”
“I—”
“The worst.”
Margot pursed her lips. It was on the tip of her tongue. Not everyone can be perfect at everything like Luke, but that would’ve taken bratty to a whole new level, even for her. Jealousy and insecurity had gotten her into this mess in the first place, leaving her with a swollen foot, bruised pride, and a tender heart.
Maybe it was time to try something new. Take Elle’s advice. Be honest.
“There isn’t a chance we could put a pin in this conversation and circle back around in, say . . . a few days?” she joked.
Olivia didn’t laugh. Her teeth sank into her bottom lip, no longer nibbling, but biting down on it outright. Her lashes fluttered with every rapid blink, the skin around her eyes turning pink. “Do you realize how scared I was?” Her voice broke and Margot’s chest splintered open. “Watching you hit that barrier? Not knowing if you were okay or hurt or—”
“I was fine, Liv.” She gestured to her propped-up foot. “A little bruised, and I’m going to have to limp down the aisle on Saturday—no heels for me, un-fucking-fortunately—but I’m fine.”