“Here.” Margot swiped the phone off the nightstand and held it out. She cleared her throat softly, eyes darting around the room, looking everywhere but at Olivia. “It’s Brad.”
Olivia traced the back of her teeth with her tongue, staring hard at Brad’s name on the screen until the letters blurred together and the backs of her eyes burned, forcing her to blink. A reverse image of his name floated behind her lids, white on black. She’d answer and take care of it, whatever it was this time, tell Brad what he needed to hear, and—then what? She’d do it all over again the next time he called? The next? How long was this supposed to go on for?
In those minutes, no matter how brief, it was like she’d never left, still giving even from miles away. She dreaded seeing his name appear on the caller ID, hated knowing there was a ninety-nine percent chance he was calling for something innocuous, using her. But there was that one percent chance, that small part of her, that little voice in the back of her mind that couldn’t help but wonder, couldn’t help but worry, what if? What if this time he was calling for something actually important? What if the one time she sent him to voicemail Dad needed her and—
Margot’s eyes dropped to the phone still vibrating in the palm of her hand. “Are you going to answer it?”
Maybe it was because she asked, giving Olivia the chance to make the decision rather than telling Olivia what she should do, that her heart swelled.
She took the phone from Margot, their fingers brushing. Margot averted her eyes and scratched her neck, fingers lingering in the hollow of her throat.
Olivia swallowed hard and swiped at the screen, sending Brad to voicemail. “If he has something important to say, he can leave me a message.”
Sending Brad to voicemail wasn’t merely satisfying, the absence of his name on her screen a relief. It was necessary, something she should’ve done a long time ago. She was doing it now, not to wipe the subtle frown from Margot’s face, but for herself. Because Margot was right. This pattern of being at Brad’s beck and call wasn’t healthy and it wasn’t fair.
Olivia deserved better.
Margot surged forward, pressing her mouth to Olivia’s. Her lips curved, and maybe Olivia hadn’t sent Brad to voicemail for Margot or because of her, but the way she smiled was an added benefit.
Margot drew back, fingers sliding against the shell of Olivia’s ear after she tucked a strand of hair behind it. “Okay?”
“Yeah, I’m—” Olivia’s phone vibrated, still in her hand. One brief buzz, a text. Olivia shut her eyes. “Damn it,” she muttered.
She swiped against her screen, entering her passcode with her thumb, tapping on the text notification at the top of her screen.
Brad （6:03 p.m.）： hey i called u
Enough was enough. The time for point-blank was now.
Olivia （6:05 p.m.）： I’m busy, Brad. Unless it’s an emergency, you need to stop calling me like this. It’s not okay. I’m not your mother.
She stared at the message, chewing on the inside of her lip, reading and rereading until she had the whole thing memorized. She held her thumb down on the backspace key, deleting the last line before pressing send. Margot’s hands rested lightly on her shoulders, her touch reassuring. Her thumbs swept gently against Olivia’s collarbones in a soothing circuit. When Olivia lifted her head, one side of Margot’s mouth tipped up. “Okay?”
“I told him to stop calling unless it’s an emergency.” She lifted her brows and offered up a wry smile. “I’m not holding my breath.”
Her phone vibrated with another incoming text.
Brad （6:07 p.m.）： u don’t need to be a bitch about it livvy
Right. Because asking for a boundary made her a bitch. She rolled her eyes and flipped her phone around to show Margot the text. Margot squinted and brought the screen closer, tongue poking against the inside of her cheek.
“What a fucking ass goblin,” Margot muttered, sneering at the screen.
“A what?” Olivia snickered.
Her phone buzzed, sending another spike of irritation through her. Before she could turn her screen around, Margot leaned in, reading what he wrote.
“I don’t even . . . I think he sent you a link.” Margot wrinkled her nose. “I wouldn’t open it.”
As Olivia turned her phone back around, it buzzed with another incoming text. God, was he persistent.
Brad （6:09 p.m.）： <link>
Brad （6:09 p.m.）： u didn’t tell me your dad was moving