Count Your Lucky Stars (Written in the Stars, #3)

by Alexandria Bellefleur

A wedding was a party, marriage a piece of paper and permission to file your taxes jointly; Brendon and Annie, Darcy and Elle, they were already coupled up, wholly committed, and madly in love. It was silly to let an event that was, more than anything, symbolic mess with her head, but Margot couldn’t help but feel like her friends were all forming a club and she wasn’t invited.

Olivia was so quick to blot everyone else’s tears, to serve as a shoulder to cry on, but never to let anyone see her fall apart.

Despite being a whisper of a touch, it made Margot’s pulse roar inside her ears.

Awareness. Followed by confusion and uncertainty, not only that it was Margot but that, wow, Olivia was significantly less straight than she’d previously thought.

“Feel free to tell me to fuck off, but can I ask you a personal question?”

“We like you exactly as you are.” “Brazen and bitchy?” Margot chuckled under her breath, only halfway joking. Elle smiled. “Bold and no bullshit.”

“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?”

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?

The right person shouldn’t complete you, they should love you the way you are. And it’s cool if they make you want to be better, but they should never make you feel like you’re too much or not enough exactly as you are.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way. No one should ever take your friendship for granted.”

“I’m not saying they’re taking me for granted, but it just sucks to think that they potentially rank our friendship lower than their relationships when they aren’t comparable, you know? Love isn’t supposed to be quantifiable, relationships held up against one another, pitted against one another. That’s a shitty thing to try to do, like asking someone to compare their love for their mother to their love for their partner or their best friend.”

All her friends were settling down, and Margot? She had yet to find a brand of shampoo she liked well enough to commit to, let alone a whole person.

“You’re allowed to feel more than one emotion at a time,”

Margot didn’t know how to be anything but all in when it came to Olivia.

I’m living out the Schrödinger’s cat of relationship probability. I am half hope, half agony until proven otherwise.”

Almost was always worse, the hope it stirred leading to a harder letdown when it, inevitably, didn’t pan out.

After a certain point, wanting became pointless when having remained hopeless. Why bother?

Anxiety and fear weren’t always rational. Fuck, most of the time they were the complete opposite. Brains were assholes sometimes.

“It’s not always the easiest to let someone care about you, is it?”