Count Your Lucky Stars: A Novel

12:49 p.m.

Hey, this is Olivia! I can’t come to the phone right—

Margot ended the call.

Elle winced. “No answer?”

Margot shook her head. No answer, just like the last five times she’d called. Four rings followed by voicemail and each time the pressure inside Margot’s chest swelled a little further, squeezing her heart until it hurt to breathe.

“There’s still time,” Elle said.

Right. Eleven—no, ten minutes until the rehearsal started.

Elle was right. Olivia was cutting it close, but she could still make it.

Unless Olivia wasn’t coming.

Margot lifted a shaking hand, resting her fingers against the notch at the base of her throat. Her pulse fluttered wildly under her skin, her heart going haywire. She couldn’t think that way. She couldn’t let herself think that way. Olivia would be here. She had to be here. There was too much riding on this wedding, it mattered too much to Olivia for her to simply blow it off.

Unless . . . unless Margot was wrong. Unless Olivia had changed her mind. Made it home and talked to her dad and decided to do what Margot had feared she would, set what she wanted aside to take care of whatever was going on in Enumclaw that she hadn’t even let Margot know about.

Margot had never felt so utterly in the dark in her life, desperately wanting to believe that Olivia would show up, but not knowing. Not knowing where Olivia was, what had happened last night with her dad and his house and his health, if Olivia was on her way. A million terrible scenarios flashed through her head. That Olivia’s dad wasn’t actually okay. That maybe Olivia was there in Enumclaw, needing Margot and afraid to say so after their fight. That the reason she wasn’t picking up her phone might not have been because it was dead like Elle had suggested but because she didn’t want to pick up. Or worse, maybe she couldn’t.

The pressure in her chest ballooned further, each breath she sucked in shallower than the last.

Or, there was always the possibility that she’d made it to her dad’s and thought about everything Margot had said and had taken it all to heart, but instead of deciding that putting herself first for once meant getting in the car and coming back to Seattle, she’d realized that this—the city, this career, this life—wasn’t what she wanted. That Margot wasn’t what she wanted.

Margot set her jaw.

No, absolutely not. Olivia cared too much to simply blow off the wedding. She would, at the very least, show up to make this weekend happen, and then—

Only time and talking to Olivia would tell what would come after. What their future would hold.

Eight minutes.

“She’ll be here,” Margot said, sounding a whole hell of a lot more confident than she felt.

Elle smiled and reached out, squeezing Margot’s hand, a brief show of support that made a tiny bit of the pressure in Margot’s chest release.

“It’s starting to rain,” Elle murmured, and Margot turned her face up.

A light sprinkle, heavier than a mist but lighter than a drizzle, had started to come down. Margot hadn’t even noticed. She shrugged and reached behind her neck, flipping her hood up over her head.

“Hey, you guys?” Darcy poked her head out of the door of the venue and frowned. “You can wait inside, you know?”

“Darcy’s right,” Elle said. “We can wait right inside by the window. You can see the street and stay dry. So when Olivia shows up you won’t look like a drowned rat.” Her lips quirked. “Though I’m sure you’d make an adorable drowned rat, Mar.”

Margot snorted. “Nah. You go on. I’m going to wait out here.”

Something about going inside the venue, even to wait by the window, carried a note of finality she wasn’t ready for. Like if she walked through that door without Olivia by her side, she’d be accepting that Olivia wasn’t going to show. That this thing between them was over. Over before they’d barely gotten the chance to begin.

Maybe it was silly and symbolic, but Margot was going to wait right here, on this sidewalk. Where she was standing gave her a perfectly unencumbered view down the street in each direction. Even if the clouds overhead opened up and unleashed a torrential downpour, Margot’s feet were glued to the pavement. Nothing short of Olivia showing up would make Margot come inside before she absolutely had to. Until she had no choice.

“Meet you inside?” Elle gave Margot’s hand one last squeeze before letting go.

Margot nodded. “I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

Elle slipped away, and a moment later, the heavy door behind Margot shut with a boom that made Margot lurch, nerves shot from lack of sleep and spending most of the day on edge.

Despite being midday on a Friday, the street was quiet. This part of town was far enough away from the downtown market to attract fewer tourists, but there was usually a little more action. Several cars zoomed down the road, and across the street a group of friends laughed before ducking into a coffee shop.

The door opened a minute later, and Margot shut her eyes. “I said I’ll be there shortly, Elle.”

A throat cleared and Margot craned her neck, looking over her shoulder. With one hand braced against the door, Brendon poked his head out from under the awning and frowned up at the sky for a second before lowering his gaze to stare at Margot. His lips turned down at the corners and—her stomach dropped. She knew that look. What it meant.

Her raked his fingers through his hair. “It’s, uh, one o’clock. The officiant’s already here and the facility manager has”—he winced—“kindly reminded us that we need to be out of here no later than two so they can start setup for the event they have here tonight.”

Right. The, uh, show must go on. Margot clenched her back teeth together and pasted on a smile. “I’ll be right in.”

Brendon stared at her for a moment before shaking his head and throwing the door open the rest of the way. He stepped out onto the street, rain be damned, apparently, and wrapped her up in a hug so tight that something in her chest cracked and her toes actually skimmed the ground. She buried her nose in his shirt, breathing in the smell of his aftershave and the faint smell of Annie’s perfume that clung to his collar.

She pressed on his shoulders and ducked her chin, sniffling hard at the sidewalk. “Just give me a minute, Bren. Just—one minute, please?”

One of his fingers lifted her chin. When she raised her eyes, he offered her a crooked smile. “I’ll stall for you, okay? I can ask a bunch of questions about . . . I don’t know . . . the timing of the dove release or something.”

She smacked him on the arm. “You didn’t.”

He snickered and shook his head. “No. No doves. But I bet if I ask, I can buy you at least a couple minutes. Sound good?”

She scratched the tip of her nose and nodded. “Thanks, Brendon.”

“What are best friends for?” He squeezed her shoulder before backing up toward the door. “You just take your time.”

As soon as Brendon was inside, Margot hugged her arms around herself. Take her time? There wasn’t time.

But Margot had to trust that Olivia would show up. And if she didn’t, she had to believe she had a reason.

She relaxed her death grip on her phone and stared at the screen.

1:01 p.m.

Four more minutes. Margot would give her four minutes before she sucked it up and accepted that Olivia wasn’t coming.

Each second inched by. A horn blared from several blocks over, and across the street, that group of friends who’d ducked inside the coffee shop hurried back out onto the street, zipping up their jackets and hiding under their hoods, the rain falling heavier than before.

1:04 p.m.

One arm still wrapped around her stomach, Margot jammed the heel of her other hand against her breastbone—it was time to accept that, for whatever reason, Olivia wasn’t—

An engine roared a split second before a bright red monster truck took the corner, tires—all six of them—squealing. Margot stared, dumbstruck. In Seattle, she saw Priuses and Subarus and Hyundais, small cars ideal for squeezing into tight spaces, street parking the norm. Even the parking spaces in garages were narrow, all but encouraging drivers to pick smaller, more fuel-efficient vehicles than the gas-guzzler burning rubber as it ate up the pavement, coming toward her up the hill.

Holy shit. Margot leaped back as the right front tire of the truck hopped the curb, brakes screeching obnoxiously, drawing the attention of every pedestrian in a two-block radius.

Who the fuck was this asshole, and where in God’s name did they get their license?

Heart racing for an entirely different reason than before, Margot inched a little closer to the door to the venue, focus still firmly on the truck. She covered her ears when the driver’s-side door opened, hinges screeching like nails on a chalkboard. The door slammed, and Margot froze.

One hand braced against the headlight, chest heaving, her dark blond hair a halo of frizz around her face, stood Olivia.

Mud streaked the sides of her calves, caking her feet, and there was a tear in the side of her skirt along the seam, too ragged to be a slit. Even filthy, totally disheveled, and standing beside a monster truck, Olivia had never looked more breathtaking because she was here.

Margot opened her mouth and gestured weakly to the monster truck parked partially on the curb. “Truck?” She huffed and tried again. “Since when do you drive a truck?”

Was this thing even street legal? Fuck it. Margot couldn’t care less, because Olivia was here, and she was looking at Margot like she’d never been happier to see someone in her life. She was here.

Olivia stepped closer on wobbling legs, and when she laughed there was a frantic edge to it that made Margot’s heart clench. She stumbled over the curb, and Margot rushed toward her, catching her with both hands around her waist, steadying her. Olivia melted against Margot, her whole body shaking as if there were a current running through her, clearly adrenaline and who knew what else. “I stole it.”

Margot jerked back and her jaw fell open. “You stole a truck? Olivia.”

She wasn’t sure whether to be scandalized or proud or a little turned on or terrified or some dizzying combination of all of the above.

Olivia sputtered out another laugh and dipped her chin. “I stole a truck.”

That was—Margot didn’t have words. Or, she had words, but she wanted to hear what Olivia had to say. Needed to hear it. “Start from the beginning. Please.”

Olivia’s tongue darted out, sweeping against her bottom lip. “My dad is fine. You were right. You were absolutely right. He’s selling the house, but he’s okay and we cleared it all up. We’re fine. This morning I dropped my phone in the toilet while I was getting ready and now it’s a waterlogged hunk of junk and then my car wouldn’t start because of my plug sparks or something and I couldn’t call you because I don’t have your new number memorized and my neighbor was trying to work on the car but he couldn’t fix it and my dad had already left for his fishing trip and—and—”

“Hey.” Margot reached up, tucking a strand of hair behind Olivia’s ear. “Breathe.”

Olivia nodded and sucked in a rasping breath. “My car wouldn’t start. I didn’t know what to do. I was going to go to Brad and ask to borrow his car, which I didn’t exactly relish the idea of”—her lips twisted in a wry smile—“but I figured he owed me one.”

He owed Olivia several, but Margot held her tongue.

“He wasn’t home.” Her throat her jerked. “I had no idea how to get here, and I couldn’t contact anyone, but then I saw his truck in the yard and he left the keys inside and I—I thought about what you said. About not needing to ask anyone’s permission to be happy, so . . . I didn’t. I just took the truck.”

The pressure in Margot’s chest didn’t so much disappear as it was replaced with laughter that built until she couldn’t contain it. It burst from her lips. “You stole Brad’s truck.”

Olivia laughed. “I stole Brad’s truck!”

A throat cleared from behind them. Standing in the doorway, Brendon smiled crookedly. “Look, I’m really happy for you guys, but maybe you should talk about your grand theft auto at a slightly lower volume.”

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” Olivia said, cringing sharply.

Brendon waved her off. “No worries. We’ve got a little cushion.”

“We’ll be in in a minute,” Margot promised.

He winked, both eyes shutting instead of just the one, and ducked inside.

Margot’s cheeks ached from smiling. “That’s kind of hot, you know.”

“Me stealing a truck?” Olivia’s eyes crinkled at the corners.

“You stealing Brad’s truck,” she clarified.

Olivia brushed her fingers against Margot’s wrist and goose bumps erupted on her arms. Her lower lip wobbled gently. “I should’ve listened to you. Instead I almost didn’t make it and—I don’t know.” She ducked her chin. “I was standing there on Brad’s porch and it just hit me, how badly I want all of this. To be here. My whole life is here, and I love it here, I love what I do, and I—I’ve worked too hard this last year to just give up on it all. To throw it all away. When I was standing there and I realized I might not make it on time, I realized how badly I wanted everything I’ve worked for and how far I was willing to go to have it.” She tangled their fingers together and squeezed. “How far I was willing to go to keep it.”

Keep it. Margot’s heart soared. “Keep it, huh?”

Olivia laughed, free hand skimming Margot’s waist and wrapped around her, palm settling against the small of Margot’s back. Her smile fell, and her eyes went serious. “I am so sorry, Margot. For what I said. I—you were coming from a good place and I reacted poorly. When you said I was overreacting, it felt like you were belittling my feelings, and I lashed out. It was no excuse.”

Margot swallowed hard and brushed her thumb along the curve of Olivia’s cheek. There was a mysterious smudge that might’ve been grease, maybe mud, but Margot didn’t care. “I’m sorry, too. What I said about you overreacting was shitty, but everything else? Please tell me you understand that everything I said, I said because I care about you. You know that, right?”

Olivia sniffled softly and nodded. “It’s not the easiest, letting someone care about me.”

“Well, you’ll have lots of time to practice,” Margot joked, stepping closer until their knees bumped. “Because I’m not going to stop caring about you any time soon. Definitely not after one fight. I’m a lot harder to get rid of than that.”

Olivia’s laugh was watery, her smile bright. The hand resting on the small of Margot’s back traveled higher, tangling in the back of her hair. “So am I. I’m not going anywhere.”

Heat crept up Margot’s jaw, and the inside corners of her eyes prickled. “I know.”

“What were you doing standing out here?” Olivia asked.

“Everyone else went inside.” Margot lifted her free hand and rested it on the side of Olivia’s neck, her thumb brushing the hinge of Olivia’s jaw. “But I was waiting for you.”

Olivia smiled, and the hand in Margot’s hair tightened, drawing her close. Olivia dipped her chin and her nose slid against Margot’s, her breath warm against Margot’s mouth. Olivia’s lips brushed hers, a whispered tease of a kiss. Her hair smelled like shampoo and rain and her breath like toothpaste, and Margot wanted. She smiled and chased Olivia’s lips, gripping the front of Olivia’s blouse, dragging her in, and sealing their mouths together.

“I’m pretty sure a part of me has been waiting for you for eleven years. Just like I’m pretty sure, no matter what happens, I’m always going to be at least little bit in love with you, Liv. Waiting a few extra minutes wasn’t going to kill me.” A drop landed on the tip of Margot’s nose. A little rain wouldn’t kill her, either.

Olivia’s lips parted, hazel eyes widening. “Really?” she whispered.

Margot’s heart raced from the confession, from Olivia’s closeness, the warmth of her hand against the back of Margot’s neck. The thumb of Olivia’s other hand swept gentle circles over the inside of Margot’s wrist, where she could probably feel Margot’s pulse flutter wildly. “Really.”

“Always?” Olivia whispered against Margot’s mouth, seemingly as reluctant to drag herself from the kiss as Margot was.

“Always.”