Olivia’s tongue darted out, sweeping against the lip she’d chewed red. She crawled off the bed, swiping her sweater off the floor. “What’s if he’s not okay? What if he’s—”
“Whoa, whoa.” Margot slipped out of bed, wincing when a twinge of pain shot up the side of her foot from putting too much weight on it. Walking was going to be a real bitch. “You need to take a deep breath, okay? Breathe in with me.”
Panicking wouldn’t solve anything.
Sweater clutched in front of her, Olivia pinched her lips together and mimicked Margot as she inhaled through her nose. Margot held it, lifting a hand to make sure Olivia would do the same. She exhaled slowly, lowering her hand. Olivia’s exhale was ragged, her shoulders sagging and curling forward. She scrunched her eyes shut, looking upset but no longer on the verge of hyperventilating.
“What if he isn’t fine?” Olivia repeated, voice breaking.
Margot’s heart clenched at the sound, at the way Olivia scrunched her eyes shut.
“He promised to tell you if he wasn’t. I was there, remember? I heard your entire phone call. He told you he didn’t want you to worry.”
Olivia turned her sweater right side out and slipped it on over her head. Static caused strands of her hair to stick straight up in multiple directions. “Exactly. He doesn’t want me to worry. All the more reason for him to keep me in the dark.”
“Don’t you think”—Margot winced, already anticipating Olivia’s reaction to what she was about to say—“if your dad says he’s fine, you should trust him?”
She swept her fingers through her hair, wincing when they snagged on a tangle. “I told you. He drove himself to the hospital when he had a heart attack, Mar. He only let the nurse call me when he had to stay overnight.”
Margot blew out her breath. “Okay, I can see where something like that might not engender a whole lot of trust. That’s—that’s shitty. I completely agree, and I—I can understand that your brain is probably going to the worst possible place right now.” Anxiety and fear weren’t always rational. Fuck, most of the time they were the complete opposite. Brains were assholes sometimes. “But, offering an outside perspective, I don’t think the fact that he’s selling the house necessarily means there’s something wrong with his health.” She cracked a smile. “Who knows? Maybe he’s selling because he plans to retire and wants to move down to one of those all-inclusive retirement villas in Florida. You know they have a huge nudist community right outside of Tampa? I watched this whole show on HGTV on it. Everyone carries a little personal towel around so when they visit they can sit on that instead of directly on the furniture. And they specifically cater to retirees. Maybe your dad wants to broaden his horizons.”
She wiggled her brows, managing to get Olivia to crack a smile.
“Dad hates Florida.” Olivia gathered her hair off her neck and swept it up into a bun, securing it with the scrunchie on her wrist. Several wisps of hair fell loose, framing her face. “We have cousins in Kissimmee. Last time we visited, all he did was complain about how hot and humid it was.” She sighed, shoulders slumping. “I just wish I knew why he didn’t tell me. I grew up in that house. I still have boxes in my old bedroom, clothes in the closet I didn’t bring with me—all my yearbooks are still on a bookshelf in the hall. I don’t get it.”
Margot hobbled around the bed until she could grab Olivia’s hand. She tangled their fingers together and squeezed, drawing her closer so she could wrap an arm around her waist. Olivia ducked her chin, smiling down at their hands softly, expression subdued but no longer looking like she was on the verge of making herself sick with worry. Progress. “Until you talk to him, I think you’re just spinning your wheels, Liv. You need the whole story.”
She pressed her lips together, throat jerking when she swallowed, nodding slowly. “You’re right. I—I need to talk to Dad.” She huffed through her nose, a little agitated noise punctuated by an eye roll. “He’s the only one who can answer my questions. Until then, it’s all hypothetical and—”
“So you’ll talk to him.” Margot swept her thumb against the back of Olivia’s knuckles, trying to soothe her the best she could. She lifted their joined hands, raising them high enough that she could brush her lips against the side of Olivia’s thumb in a quick kiss. Her chest clenched when Olivia smiled and—God, why had she been fighting this? Caring about Olivia came as easy as breathing. Margot should’ve known resistance was futile, that she’d always wind up here. “You’ll talk to him and he’ll explain and it’ll all make sense.”
Olivia sucked in a shuddering breath. “Or he’ll just tell me not to worry. You heard him on the phone. He’s really good at brushing things under the rug and sounding okay when he’s not.”
Words of reassurance failed her. There were only so many times Margot could say that everything would be all right before the words lost their value. “Just wait and see what he has to say, okay? Take it from there.”
Olivia’s lower lip wobbled before she trapped it between her teeth, blinking fast. “Am I a terrible daughter?” she whispered.
“What the hell, Liv? Why would you think that?” That was absurd. “You’re not. Jesus. If you’re a terrible daughter, I don’t even want to know what that makes me.”
Olivia lifted a shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. “I don’t understand why he wouldn’t tell me something like this.”
Maybe because he knew it would make her worry? “He probably doesn’t want to worry you. That’s the vibe I got from the call in the car.”
Olivia’s teeth scraped her bottom lip. She was going to bleed if she wasn’t careful. “If he doesn’t want me to worry, that means there’s something worth worrying over.”
Margot’s back teeth clacked together. That was not the direction she’d meant to send Liv’s thoughts. That was the opposite of what she wanted, to rekindle Olivia’s concerns. “Just wait until you talk to him, okay?”
Olivia sniffled. “I think—I think I need to talk to him in person. See that he’s actually okay and—it’s harder for him to fib to my face, you know?”
That made sense. Seeing was believing and all that. “Sure.”
“You think?”
Margot nodded. “Totally. You know, I haven’t seen my parents since . . . God, since Christmas. If you want, we can drive down together on Monday. Or Sunday, I guess, if we’re not too tired or hungover.”
Olivia’s fingers slackened around Margot’s, and she stepped back. “I was thinking more along the lines of, I need to talk to him in person now.”
“Now? Liv, that’s . . .” She swallowed hard, the next words out of her mouth about to be ridiculous, and that would’ve been a shitty thing to say even though a part of her did think it was ridiculous. “I think you need to take a deep breath and relax, and we can head down to dinner—”
“There’s no way I can relax until I talk to my dad. I’ll be no fun to be around. I’ll just be worrying, and Annie and Brendon shouldn’t have to put up with—”
“Hey, hey.” Margot settled her hands on Olivia’s waist. “No one’s putting up with anything, Liv. I know Annie and Brendon. Trust me, they would hate the idea that you’re more worried about their reaction to you stressing than what’s actually stressing you. I promise.”
Olivia took a step back, then one more, too far away for Margot to reach. Margot’s hands fell to her sides.
“There’s no way I’m going to be able to sleep tonight,” Olivia said.
“It’s early. Your dad could still call you.”
“But—”
“You want to talk to him in person, I know.” Margot sighed and slipped her fingers under her lenses, rubbing her eyes. “But you can’t just pick up and go to Enumclaw right now.”
“It’s not even an hour away. If I leave now, I could make it there before eight. I can talk to Dad and figure out what the hell is going on and why the house is for sale.”
If I leave now. Leave. A pit formed in Margot’s stomach, the word tripping a trigger in her brain. Olivia wanted to leave. Leave and come back . . . right?
“Look, I know you’re concerned, but . . . the rehearsal is tomorrow. The wedding is on Saturday.”
Olivia was already moving across the room, gathering up a sock from the foot of the bed and her leggings from the floor. She plopped down on the edge of the bed and slipped a foot into her pants. “Trust me, Mar, I am well aware of when the wedding is. I’m the wedding planner, remember?” She shot Margot a tight smile. “It’ll be fine. I’ll drive down tonight, talk to Dad, spend the night, and leave tomorrow morning. The rehearsal isn’t until one, the rehearsal dinner not until later that evening. Setup starts at three. I’ll make it back in time. Heck, there’s a decent chance I’ll beat you all back to town, depending on what time I hit the road.”
Margot worried the inside of her cheek, weighing out a gentler way to say what needed to be said that wouldn’t piss Olivia off. “Liv, don’t you think you should maybe . . . sit on this for a second? Think it through. Call your dad again, text him. See if he calls you tonight, talk it out on the phone, and if you’re still worried, we can drive down on Sunday. Together.”
“And if he doesn’t call?” Olivia smoothed the stretchy spandex leggings up over her knees, standing to tug them the rest of the way on. She set her hands on her hips and frowned. “He’s heading up to Forks tomorrow. He said he might not have coverage, and he’s not always going to have his phone on him. Plus, like you said, the rehearsal is tomorrow, and me driving down tonight isn’t going to be a problem. I’m going to make it back in time.”
“It’s not a question of whether you’ll make it back or not, although anything can happen. It’s more a matter of you dropping everything to go check on your dad when just yesterday he told you he was fine and promised he’d tell you otherwise. He told you not to worry. He told you to have a good time and he made me promise to make sure you do.”
Olivia stared out the window, lips pursed. “He also conveniently left out the part about the house being on the market. I can’t exactly hang much on that conversation, can I?”
Margot buried her face in her hands and groaned. “You’re overreacting, Liv.”
Shit. As soon as the words were out of her mouth she wished she could take them back. Press rewind or hoover them up, make them disappear. She peeked between her spread fingers.
Olivia turned her head slowly, eyes widening and lips parting. “Gee, thanks, Margot. Are you going to tell me I’m acting crazy next?”
“No, I’m just—God, you’re always thinking about what everyone else needs, but what about what you need?” Margot dropped her hands, letting them hang limp at her sides. “I know you love your dad, but it’s his job to take care of you, not the other way around.” Olivia opened her mouth, but Margot wasn’t finished. “I know you care about him, but there’s a difference between caring about someone and taking care of them, and right now you’re mixing them up.”
Olivia crossed her arms. Everything from the set of her jaw to the way she was standing perfectly still, her back ramrod straight, screamed defensive. “Really? Tell me—how, in your expert opinion, am I confusing the two? Because the last time I checked, you aren’t in my head, Margot.”
“I never claimed to be an expert. I’m speaking as someone who cares about you.” She couldn’t believe she was having this conversation in her underwear. “In an ideal situation, would your dad have told you before he listed the house? Totally. But he didn’t, and that’s his prerogative. Maybe he had a good reason for not telling you. Maybe, Liv . . . maybe he doesn’t think it’s your business. Is it something you need to talk about? Okay, sure. But is it something you need to talk about right now? Maybe you make it to Enumclaw tonight and back in time for the rehearsal tomorrow, but where does it stop? Where do you draw a line? If Brad calls and he needs help finding a garage door opener, are you going to hop in your car and drive to Enumclaw to help him find it?”
Olivia scoffed and stepped back. “This has nothing to do with Brad.”
Didn’t it? Maybe not directly, but . . . “It’s about you putting everyone’s needs above your own.”
How she’d been doing it for years. For so long that half the time, Margot was pretty sure Olivia didn’t even realize she was doing it. It had become that ingrained in her.
“I don’t understand why you would bring Brad up. I didn’t answer his call, did I? I texted him and told him to stop calling me. I showed it to you. What more do you want from me, Margot? You want me to block Brad? You want me to act like he was never a part of my life? What can I do to show you that I don’t want Brad? I want you.”
Margot bit the tip of her tongue and counted to three so she wouldn’t say something she’d regret, because she was this close to pulling her hair out because Liv might’ve heard everything Margot had said but she wasn’t listening. “You’re right. You did. And like I said, I think that’s great. You setting a boundary. I just hope you did it for yourself and not because I was sitting there. Because it shouldn’t be about me or what I want. None of this is about me, and I’m not asking you to block Brad or forget he ever existed.” Though Margot sure as hell wouldn’t mind putting Brad out of her mind for good. “I’m not asking you to do anything except what’s right for you. It should be about you. That’s what I’m trying to say, and you saying what you just did is proving my point. You left Brad and you moved to the city, saying you were tired of making sacrifices for Brad, and—all I’m saying is, it’s a slippery slope and it’s easy to go from being selfless to being self-sacrificing. Self-sabotaging.”
Olivia had a history of that, and if Margot was being completely honest, she’d benefited from Olivia’s selfless nature a time or two or twelve. In the moment, she’d never stopped to consider it beyond thinking that Olivia was a great friend, but maybe she should’ve. Maybe she’d taken Olivia’s selflessness for granted just like everyone else. Maybe she had, but she wasn’t going to keep doing it. Olivia was always going to bat for everyone else; she deserved the same in return. Even if it wasn’t fun in the moment. Olivia deserved that.
“I’m not self-sabotaging because I want to check on my dad,” Olivia argued. “And I didn’t send Brad to voicemail because of you, I did it for me.”
Margot crossed the room toward Olivia, footsteps uneven as she avoided putting too much weight on her left foot. “I’m not trying to pick a fight with you, okay? Fighting with you is just about the last thing I want to do right now. Ever.” When Olivia ducked her chin, Margot took a leap of faith and reached for her hand. She swallowed a sigh of relief when Olivia let her lace their fingers together. “I care about you, Olivia. I wouldn’t be wasting my breath saying any of this if I didn’t care. I’d throw you your car keys, kiss you on the cheek, and tell you I’d see you sometime tomorrow. And then I’d go downstairs and hang out with my friends and I definitely wouldn’t spend the night worrying about you making it to Enumclaw safely or how your conversation is going to go with your dad. I wouldn’t—” She sniffed at the unexpected burn in her sinuses, the blur at the corners of her eyes. “I think about you all the time, Liv.” She laughed. “I think about you even when I’m not supposed to, when I wasn’t supposed to, when I convinced myself I wasn’t. I care about you, and I love—” Her throat narrowed. “I love that you have such a big heart and that you care about everyone else, but it can’t be at the expense of yourself.”
If Olivia kept it up, she’d give everything away until she had nothing left. Burn herself out trying to keep everyone else warm.
A pretty pink flush colored Olivia’s cheeks. “It’s not.”
Margot nibbled on the corner of her lip. “Do you remember what you said when Brendon asked why you wanted to be an event planner?”
A tiny wrinkle appeared between Olivia’s tawny brows.
“You told him you wanted to make other people’s dreams come true.”
Olivia frowned. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“There’s not.” Margot traced circles against the back of Olivia’s hand with her thumb. “I’m only saying, it’s okay to want things for yourself. You deserve nice things.”
The corner of Olivia’s mouth rose. “I kissed you, didn’t I?”
Margot chuckled. “Are you calling me a nice thing?”
“The nicest,” Olivia said, swaying close, knees bumping Margot’s.
Margot bit the inside of her lip, trying not to smile. “I’m not very nice.”
“No,” Olivia agreed. Her smile softened, subdued, but no less sweet. “But I like you anyway. I like you a lot. I—like sounds trivial for the way I feel about you.”
Margot’s heart squeezed. “Ditto. Which is why I’m saying all of this.” Still holding Olivia’s hand, she sucked in a deep breath. “Forget I brought up Brad. Let’s say you get home and your dad wants you to move back to Enumclaw. What would you do?”
Olivia jerked her head back and frowned. “What kind of question is that?”
Margot’s teeth scraped against the inside of her cheek. “Just answer the question.”
“Dad would never ask me to move back.” Olivia argued, continuing to frown. “He’s the one who practically pushed me out the door, remember?”
Margot stared, loosening her grip when Olivia winced. Without meaning to, she’d strangled Olivia’s fingers. “And you seriously don’t see how that’s an issue you need to address? You don’t need anyone’s permission to follow your dreams. You don’t need anyone’s permission to be happy.”
“Issue.” Olivia scoffed softly and tugged her hand free. “Gee, I didn’t realize you were my therapist now.”
Margot’s jaw worked from side to side. A hot flush of frustration wound its way up her throat, making her dizzy. “I’m not trying to be your therapist, and that wasn’t an indictment. Maybe this is novel for you, having someone who cares about you for once, but this is what it looks like. Maybe it’s not always pretty or fun, but it’s . . .” Real. “It’s what it is. So just answer the question. Forget about your dad asking you; if you go home and you find out your dad isn’t okay, what’s your plan? What are you going to do?”
Olivia crossed her arms, frown deepening into a scowl. “I would . . .” Her lips folded together, shoulders rising in a helpless looking shrug. “I don’t know, okay? The truth is, I don’t know what I’d do. I can’t just answer on the spot like this. I’d have to think about it. But I don’t have time for this right now. I need to go.”
“You can’t.” Margot blurted, immediately cringing at her volume. “You can’t just leave.”
Olivia froze, expression shuttering, the look in her eyes frosty. “I can’t? No offense, but you don’t get to tell me what I can or can’t do, Margot. I got enough of that from Brad to last a lifetime, and I don’t need it from you, too.” Her nostrils flared. “Are you going to tell me what kind of books I can read next? The sort of company I can keep? What sort of job I can have?”
Margot pulse sped, white noise filling her ears. “Don’t compare me to him.”
“Don’t act like him, and I won’t,” Olivia bit out.
“I’m not telling you what you can or can’t do. I’m not saying you shouldn’t go see your dad if that’s what you feel like you need to do. Do I think it makes more sense to wait until he calls or to drive down on Sunday? Yes. But I’m not trying to stop you. I’m just trying to figure out where your line is in the sand. What happens the next time you think someone needs you? What if next time, it’s not the night before the rehearsal but the night before the wedding? Or the day of? At what point do you drop something big, give up on something that matters to you because you think what someone else needs is more important? At what point do you leave and not come back?”
Olivia pressed the heels of her hands against her forehead and groaned. “I’m not moving back to Enumclaw, Margot. I’m not going anywhere.”
Maybe not now, but could Margot count on Olivia to come back the next time? Could she count on Olivia always coming back or had she been right? Was it always only ever a matter of time before she lost her?
She bit down on the inside of her cheek, hoping that brief flash of pain would banish the burning at the back of her eyes, the sting inside her nose. She sucked in a rasping breath. “I just got you back, and I don’t want to always be worried about whether I’m going to lose you. Whether you’re going to leave.”
Olivia’s frown had softened leaving only a furrow between her brows. “You need to trust that when I say I’m coming back, I will. And if you can’t”—her throat jerked—“maybe that’s an issue you need to address.”
She pinched her lips, her eyes, too because—fuck.
“Not so fun to hear, huh?” Olivia whispered.
Margot clenched her jaw. “And there you go again, making the situation about someone else. Deflecting away from yourself.”
Typical.
Olivia scoffed and stepped back. “Whatever, Margot. I should go pull my bag together.”
She hugged her arms around herself and dipped her chin. “You should probably do that.”
Rather than watch Olivia leave the room, she stared at the floor, tracing the whirls and knots in the wood with the tip of her toe, biting down hard on her tongue when her vision blurred and everything went soft and out of focus.
As soon as Olivia was out of the room, Margot stumbled back a step, the side of her foot throbbing from standing for too long. She lowered herself to the bed, fingers twisting in the sheets she and Olivia had been tangled up in not even half an hour earlier.
It couldn’t have been five minutes before Olivia returned, duffel bag bouncing against her hip with every step she took. She stopped a foot in front of Margot.
“You’re okay getting a ride back to town with someone else, right?” Olivia said, fidgeting with the strap of her bag.
“I’ll figure it out.” She’d ask Elle if she could catch a ride back with her and Darcy.
Margot blinked hard and fast. This was only a disagreement. Not the end of the world, even if it felt a little like it was.
The corners of Olivia’s mouth pinched, her lips flattening into a thin slash. Her throat jerked, and she adjusted the strap of her bag, hiking it higher on her shoulder. “Bye, Margot.”
Any iteration of goodbye felt too final, so Margot kept her mouth shut.
The floor creaked and the door shut with a soft snick and then—
Silence.
Margot was alone.
