Count Your Lucky Stars: A Novel

“It’s open!”

Margot let herself inside Darcy and Elle’s apartment for game night, leaving her boots at the door. No shoes inside was Darcy’s rule, not Elle’s, but one Margot was happy to follow. As much as she enjoyed playfully ruffling Darcy’s feathers, Margot had zero desire to discover what Darcy would do if she were to track dirt on the impeccable—if not impractical—cream-colored carpet.

Sitting on the floor with her back to the door, Elle didn’t so much as lift her head when Margot entered the living room. “There’s wine in the kitchen. Don’t worry, it’s the good stuff.”

By good stuff, Elle meant of the boxed variety, as opposed to Darcy’s favorite wine, the price as difficult to stomach as the name was to pronounce. Good was a bit of an overstatement in Margot’s book, but she’d take Franzia any day over a glass of wine so expensive she’d feel guilty drinking it.

“You do realize I could be anybody, right?” Margot veered to the right, careful not to slip as she stepped from carpet onto the kitchen tile, her socks offering no grip. “I could’ve been a murderer for all you knew, and you invited me in.”

“Murderers don’t knock, Margot,” Elle said from the other room.

“You don’t know that.” Margot searched the cabinet for something sturdier than Darcy’s thin-stemmed wineglasses. Game night called for durability, not delicacy. “I’m sure that’s what they want you to think. Lull you into a false sense of security all while hiding in plain sight.”

“You’ve been watching too much true crime again, haven’t you?” Elle sounded amused.

“It was a true-crime podcast, actually.” Margot grabbed a stemless glass from the back of the cabinet and filled it with rosé before returning to the living room.

“I thought I heard voices.” Darcy stepped out from the hall. “Brendon and Annie still aren’t here?”

Elle shook her head. “Not yet. They had to stop by the nursery, remember?”

“Excuse me?” Margot must’ve misheard her. “Did you just say nursery?”

Darcy snickered. “I’m going to finish this report. If I’m not out by the time they get here, come get me.”

“Um, hello, can we please address what you just said about Brendon and Annie stopping by a nursery?”

“A plant nursery, Mar.” Elle giggled. “Oh my God. If you could see your face.”

“Okay, color me confused. It’s game night. What do we need plants for?”

Elle gestured to the coffee table, and for the first time, Margot actually examined everything Elle had laid out, beyond the gel pens and Sharpies. A spool of twine rested beside a pair of scissors, two differently sized hole punches, and a stack of cobalt-colored card stock. Two boxes of flat-bottomed glass globes had been shoved beneath the coffee table beside a folded plastic tarp.

This didn’t look like game night. This looked like Margot was about to get suckered into her three least favorite letters—DIY.

Margot groaned. “But it’s game night.”

And she’d been looking forward to this for weeks. Letting loose with a little wine and trouncing her friends at board games. It was supposed to be the highlight of her week.

“We’ll totally have time for charades after,” Elle promised. “Annie’s swamped with work, and she asked if we could help her with the wedding favors.”

“They couldn’t, I don’t know, hand out mini bottles of booze instead?”

Elle gestured to the spread atop the coffee table. “They’re buying mini succulents so every guest can have their own little love fern.”

It was a bit of an inside joke between Brendon and Annie, a play on the love fern in How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days. Brendon had gifted Annie with a miniature succulent, dubbing it their love fern, hard to kill.

“Cheesy, yet adorable,” Margot conceded.

Elle leaned back, resting her weight on her hands. “A little cheese never hurt anyone.” She wrinkled her nose. “Unless you’re lactose intolerant like Darcy, but that’s only if you’re being literal.”

Margot snorted. “True.”

“Come on, Mar.” Elle snagged a handful of markers and spread them out like a fan. “It’s arts and crafts! What’s not to love?”

“What’s not to love?” She set her wine on the table atop one of Darcy’s fancy marble coasters and lifted her left wrist. “I’m pretty sure I got carpal tunnel from addressing wedding invites, because I couldn’t climb for over a week.” She schooled her expression in an attempt to unequivocally express how serious this was. “I couldn’t masturbate without my elbow twinging, Elle.”

“Oh, boo-hoo.”

Margot took back every good thing she’d ever said about Elle, who was not actually a ray of sunshine but instead a heartless monster. “Excuse me, Miss I have a girlfriend who will make me come whenever I damn well please.”

“You know, you, too, could have a girlfriend who gives you orgasms whenever you want, if you’d ever actually—”

“No.” Margot held up a hand. “Thanks.”

Margot liked her life the way it was. Exactly the way it was. Uncomplicated. She had her friends, her business with Elle was solid, and if she needed to scratch an itch she could either do it herself or find someone to do it for her, no strings attached. Nothing needed to change.

“Okay. Backing off.” Elle frowned. “Do you really not want to help with the wedding favors? Because the four of us could probably get together another time if you’d rather skip it.”

Margot puffed out her cheeks, shoulders slumping. No, she didn’t want that, to be left out. “No, of course I want to help. You know me. I just have to bitch about it first. Get it out of my system, you know? I promise I will be nothing but sunshine and rainbows when Brendon and Annie get here.”

“No one expects that of you, Margot.” Elle stuck out a socked foot—they were toe socks, fuzzy and bright blue—and nudged Margot’s leg. “We like you exactly as you are.”

“Brazen and bitchy?” Margot chuckled under her breath, only halfway joking.

Elle smiled. “Bold and no bullshit.”

Margot ducked her chin. “Shucks, Elle. You’re going to make me blush.”

Someone knocked on the front door.

“Come in!” Elle shouted.

Annie stepped into the living room, Brendon close behind, each carrying a small pallet containing easily four dozen succulents.

“Hey.” Annie beamed. “Can I set these down somewhere?”

As if summoned by the mere idea of dirt winding up on her carpets, Darcy appeared. “There’s a tarp under the coffee table.”

Elle snagged it and shook it out, laying it flat atop the floor so Annie and Brendon could set the plants down.

After making two more trips out to the car to retrieve yet more succulents, Brendon clapped his hands together and, with a zeal that Margot usually reserved for happy hour and BOGO shoe sales, said, “Let’s get this party started.”

*  *  *

Tongue poking out from between his lips, Brendon finished tying off a twine bow with a quiet little ha of delight. He wiped his hands on his knees and reached across the table, making a grab for Margot’s Reese’s Pieces.

She smacked his hand aside. “Excuse you.”

Brendon laughed. “You’re so weird about sharing food.”

“You try growing up with two brothers and talk to me about sharing food.” Margot popped a Reese’s Piece in her mouth. “I swear if it wasn’t glued down, they’d tried to eat it. It’s a dog-eat-dog world.” She grinned. “Every man for himself.”

Elle snickered. “There’s more in the kitchen, Brendon.”

Brendon stood and saluted Elle before disappearing around the corner.

“So, Margot,” Annie said. “How’s the roommate situation working out? You and Olivia getting along?”

Did an immense amount of—what she was pretty sure was mutual—sexual tension count as getting along?

Work seemed to keep Olivia busy. Whether that was a regular thing for her or Brendon and Annie’s last-minute wedding required overtime, Margot wasn’t sure. Either way, Olivia had been out of the apartment all day yesterday, coming home after Margot had already crawled into bed. Margot had only seen her briefly this morning. Olivia had smiled sleepily, dashing out the door with a travel mug of coffee in hand, offering a soft have a nice day over her shoulder.

Margot had wandered into the kitchen for her own cup of coffee, drawing up short at the sight of a smiley face scribbled on the refrigerator whiteboard and fresh flowers in a vase—an actual one made of glass, not the plastic pitcher that pulled double duty on the rare occasions Margot got flowers—on the breakfast bar.

It was taking a little time for her to get used to coming out of her bedroom to find Olivia curled up on the couch, Cat purring away innocently from the windowsill, but it wasn’t bad. A little stiff and stilted still, but getting better. Margot actually liked it.

“She hasn’t stolen my credit card, let her ant farm loose, or gone on a hallucinogenic bender and peed in my closet, if that’s what you’re wondering.” Margot fixed the bow on her last globe. No matter what she did, it came out crooked, hanging sad and lopsided, nothing at all like Darcy’s impeccable bows, with their pristine symmetrical loops. Oh well. Done was better than perfect. “Her cat did try to kill my vibrator, though. So that was fun.”

Silence followed for a beat, two beats—

“Is that a . . . metaphor?” Darcy asked.

Annie bent forward laughing, slapping her knee. “Her pussy killed your vibrator. Holy hell, what’s it made of?”

Darcy snickered. “Her vagina or the sex toy?”

“Either!” Annie wiped her eyes. “Wait, better question—what’s her kegel routine? I am impressed.”

“Is no one going to address the question of why Margot’s sharing sex toys with her new roommate?” Elle frowned. “Not judging, but I think there are more appropriate ways to make someone feel welcome.”

Annie waggled her brows.

“Filthy minds, all of you.” Margot huffed, sidestepping her history with Olivia. “I meant her actual cat. Cat. She pounced on it. Tore up the silicone. I had to toss it.”

“This isn’t awkward at all,” Brendon muttered.

“Oh, please, I’ve seen your bare, freckled ass doing unspeakable things to Annie in the middle of my kitchen, unspeakable things that required me to metaphorically bleach my brain so that I could continue to look you in the eye,” Margot said.

He smiled sheepishly. “Fair point.”

“So yeah, aside from my vibrator’s premature death, things are good.”

“You should’ve invited her,” Brendon said. “Tonight. That would’ve been fun.”

Everyone nodded.

Margot let herself imagine what it would be like if she were to bring Olivia along to a game night. They might have even numbers for a change. Margot’s eyes swept the room, lingering on Annie’s head propped against Brendon’s shoulder and Darcy’s hand resting on Elle’s thigh, the way they seemed to naturally gravitate toward one another without even thinking about it.

She sucked in a shaky breath. Even numbers might be nice.

“Maybe next time.”

Margot shifted, crossing her legs the other way, frowning when something poked her in the hip. She leaned back, wiggled her hand inside the pocket of her jeans, the tips of her fingers brushing up against—what was that? Folded paper? Odd. She didn’t remember leaving anything in her pockets, and she’d just washed these jeans yesterday.

The paper gave, slipping free. In Margot’s hand was a folded rectangle of notebook paper, the kind torn free from a composition notebook, blue lines bisecting the page. It had been folded meticulously, with care, the creases clean, the flap tucked just so, a perfect miniature envelope. Margot flipped it over. A heart, drawn in pink gel pen, adorned the front. There was no name, not that it needed one. There was no doubt who it was from.

Careful not to rip the paper, Margot unfolded the tiny origami envelope by pulling on the tucked flap. The paper gave easily, opening in her hand.

Have a great day ☺

The way her lips curved in a replica of the smiley doodled on the paper was completely involuntary.

Margot hadn’t done laundry yesterday. Olivia had, and she’d left Margot a note, the exact kind they’d stealthily passed each other during class.

Suddenly warm, Margot folded the paper back up, returning it to her pocket the way she’d found it. When she lifted her head, Elle was staring at her, head cocked to the side curiously. Margot shook her head and mouthed, “nothing,” even though it felt like something. Something she didn’t understand. Something she didn’t want to try to explain.

She turned her attention to the TV. The movie they’d had playing in the background had ended, the Netflix home screen auto-playing a preview of a movie she hadn’t seen.

“What do you guys want to put on next?”

Annie yawned. “I think I’ve got to call it a night, guys.”

Margot double-checked the time. “It’s not even eleven.”

And they hadn’t ever gotten to charades like Elle had promised.

Darcy stood, stretching her arms over her head. “Annie’s right. I’m beat and we’ve got to wake up early.”

Elle groaned. “Five a.m.”

“What in God’s name do you have to get up at five for?” Margot asked.

She was pretty sure, in all their years of friendship, that she’d never seen Elle awake at seven, not unless she’d pulled an all-nighter.

“Yoga class,” Annie said, gathering the glasses from the table.

“Oh.” Margot nodded slowly. “You guys are taking a yoga class. Together.”

Without her.

Elle frowned. “We’d have invited you, but you hate yoga.”

“I never said I hated yoga.”

“You said the class I took you to wasn’t for you,” Darcy said.

True. Darcy had dragged Margot to a Slow Flow yoga class, and the instructor had gone on and on about focusing on her flow and quieting her mind, and all Margot had been able to think about was how she wasn’t supposed to be thinking, chastising herself for thinking about thinking, wash, rise, repeat.

“Well, okay. Maybe I said that.” Margot stood. “But you still could’ve asked.”

One of Darcy’s brows rose. “Even though you’d have said no?”

Margot crossed her arms. “Okay, when you put it like that, it sounds stupid.”

She just wanted to be included. If she was going to opt out, she wanted it to be on her terms. Was that really so much to ask?

Elle smiled softly. “We’ll definitely invite you next time.”

“Thank you.” Margot turned and nudged Brendon with her elbow. “Want to go climbing tomorrow?”

Brendon ran his fingers through his hair and winced. “Uh, I would, but see—”

“It’s a couples’ yoga class,” Annie said, biting her lip.

Oh.

Margot dug her toes into the carpet. “You could’ve just said.”

Preferably before she’d made a fool of herself, but whatever.

“Sorry,” Elle blurted, blue eyes wide and apologetic. “We just thought—”

“It’s fine.” Margot waved her off with a breezy smile. “Like you said. I hate yoga anyway.” Not as much as she hated being left out, granted.

Elle frowned. “You could still come.”

“To couples’ yoga?” Darcy arched a brow.

“Sometimes people show up without partners,” Elle argued. “It’s like on roller coasters when they put two single riders together. Or a single rider with two people. We could trade off poses like we do teams on game night.” Elle smiled brightly. “Or the instructor could partner with you.”

Margot would rather die. “Really. It’s fine.”

Elle’s lips twisted to the side. “If you say so.”

Margot quickly changed the subject. “We’re still on for cake tasting, though, right? Saturday?”

Everyone nodded, slowly migrating in the direction of the door. Margot trailed behind Brendon and Annie, letting them go on ahead.

Elle leaned against the open door. “Are you sure everything’s good with you and Olivia?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“I don’t know.” Elle shrugged. “Just, you never mentioned her, and I was . . . wondering if there was a reason for that.”

Not one that Margot wanted to discuss.

Rather than fib, Margot sidestepped Elle’s question altogether. “We’re fine, Elle. If something happens and that changes, I promise you’ll be the first person I tell.”