Elle shrugged. “He has a point.”
Darcy knew how it sounded—too busy for dating, for friends, for any semblance of a social life. Yes, it was true she didn’t have any friends in Seattle yet, but she was operating according to her schedule, not Brendon’s. “I don’t tell him how to run his business.”
“Tell him you’re just not interested.”
If only it were that easy. Darcy had tried and it never worked. Brendon knew her too well, knew exactly what buttons to press to get his way. Darcy didn’t feel like spilling to Elle that the reason Brendon pushed so hard was because he knew that once upon a time, she had wanted a relationship, marriage, family, the whole nine yards. Having the rug yanked out from under her wasn’t something she’d been able to control, but how she chose to move on with the rest of her life was.
Darcy waved it off with a roll of her eyes and a scoff. “Easier said than done. You’ve met Brendon; he’s a romantic, obsessed with happily-ever-after. He keeps setting me up on these dates, and when I try to back out, he acts wounded, like I’m giving up too easily. Last night had less to do with you and more to do with me finally reaching the end of my rope. I had a headache and all I wanted was to go home. You were a . . . casualty. Wrong place at the wrong time.”
On a date with the wrong person.
Elle set her jaw. “Whatever. It’s not like you’re obligated to like me or anything.”
It had nothing to do with liking Elle, or not. Had Elle not been looking for love, had she been fine with something less serious and more temporary, Darcy wouldn’t have minded exploring what those heated glances could’ve led to. But Elle was looking for something serious and Darcy wasn’t, so there was no use wasting time on what-ifs when they were inherently incompatible.
“I could’ve been nicer,” Darcy admitted.
“True.” Elle’s lips quirked, her smile brief, a sun breaking through clouds. “I’m still missing something. Why lie and tell Brendon you wanted to see me again when you clearly don’t?”
Not entirely true. Topic of conversation aside, talking with Elle wasn’t awful. Granted, it would’ve been better had she been wearing less clothing. In which case, Darcy would’ve been happy to see a lot more of Elle. Often.
“Again, product of poor timing.” Darcy lifted a shoulder and gave Elle a rueful smile. “Brendon came in here, guns blazing, talking about how I should sign up for speed dating and, to be honest, that sounds like my idea of hell. When my usual excuses—reasons—didn’t work, I told him I was seeing someone. But then he wondered why I’d agreed to go out with you if I was seeing someone else.”
Realization flickered in Elle’s eyes. “So you told him it was me you hit it off with.”
Darcy bit the edge of her lip and nodded.
For a moment, Elle was silent. Lips twisting to the side and brow furrowing, she finally asked, “What was your end game?”
“My what?”
“You know. How you saw this playing out. You tell Brendon we’re seeing each other and then what was supposed to happen? Didn’t you think he’d catch on eventually? Or, I don’t know, ask me about you?”
Darcy scratched the side of her neck. She’d made a gamble, yes. She should’ve known better, but Brendon had given her no choice but to think fast on her feet. As a consequence, her plan had been riddled with holes. It could’ve worked, but she’d been thwarted by Brendon’s absolute inability to keep his trap shut.
“For starters, I swore him to secrecy. I told him I didn’t want him messing this up for me. I intended to capitalize on my intention to reach out to you and milk that for as long as I could before Brendon finally caught on. I didn’t exactly lie, I omitted and let him fill in the blanks.”
Elle gawked. “That’s cunning. That’s . . . that’s . . . Slytherin.”
“Excuse me?”
“Slytherin.” Elle’s jaw dropped. “Oh my god. Don’t tell me you don’t know your Hogwarts house. Pottermore? The Sorting Hat Quiz?” When Darcy stared, Elle groaned and covered her face. “You don’t do social media, you don’t believe in astrology, and now you don’t like Harry Potter. On behalf of our generation, I am offended, you rock dweller.”
Darcy scoffed. “I do not live under a rock. I know what you’re talking about, I was choosing to ignore you because your assumption about me was baseless.”
And not that it was any of Elle’s business, but Darcy was a Ravenclaw.
“Like I said, I never lied,” Darcy reiterated, keeping this conversation from getting further off track. “I stretched the truth.”
“Stretched the truth? Are you kidding me?” Elle exhaled noisily through her nose, jaw ticking. “Look, what you choose to tell your brother, or not tell your brother, whatever, is your business. But whether you meant to or not, you pulled me into a narrative I’d very much like to be excluded from, plus, you put me in a pickle.”
Swallowing a laugh at her phrasing, Darcy gave what she hoped was a carefully thoughtful stare. “I put you in a pickle?”
“Yes, a real gherkin of a situation.”
How she managed to say that with a straight face was a mystery. Even Darcy couldn’t keep from snorting at the word gherkin being used to sincerely describe one’s state of being. “I didn’t realize it would be such a big dill.”
Elle rolled her shoulders back and glared daggers. “It isn’t funny. I was at breakfast with my mom when your brother waltzed up and spilled your story. Told me you’re smitten. Now my mom, and most likely my whole family, thinks I’m halfway to being in the first successful relationship I’ve ever had. I’m sure my mom’s working on a cake as we speak. Elle’s finally got her shit together. Let’s bust out the confetti.”
Darcy sobered. This was a different side of Elle than the starry-eyed soul-mate-seeking girl she’d met last night.
“I . . . apologize. Sincerely. I was remiss in assuming my brother could keep his mouth shut. But this isn’t hopeless.” Darcy licked her lips, shifting her weight from one foot to the other beneath Elle’s stare. “Why don’t you tell your mother Brendon was mistaken?”
Elle worried her bottom lip between her teeth, shoulders slumping. “Yeah, sure. That’ll go great. And what am I supposed to say to your brother?”
“Maybe you could”—Darcy winced—“not say anything to Brendon? Yet.”
Elle blinked those blue eyes of her balefully. “I’m sorry. Are you suggesting I lie to your brother? Your brother who happens to be my friend and brand-new business partner? Because that’s what it sounds like.”
The plan, the promising, practically brilliant plan, was slipping through Darcy’s fingers. “I didn’t say lie, I said don’t say anything. There’s a difference.”
Elle stared.
“Look, I didn’t mean to rope you into this, I swear, but maybe . . .” Floundering, Darcy was trying and failing to fill in the blank. Maybes were flimsy, imprecise. She preferred probabilities and proof to perhaps. She met Elle’s eyes and somehow in her stare, she found her answer. “If you look on the bright side, this could be beneficial to us both.”
That was the sort of starry-eyed optimism that revved Elle’s engine, right?
Elle’s eyes narrowed. “How?”
Darcy knew how it would benefit her, but Elle’s situation was a bit less defined. Vague, even.
“I’m at my wits’ end with my brother’s matchmaking,” Darcy explained. “And you . . . you want your family to think you can hold down a relationship?”
“I—” Elle shut her mouth and frowned. “What I want is an actual relationship, one I don’t have to fib about.”
Each time Darcy felt like she was finally regaining her grip, the plan slipped further through her fingers.
“No one’s saying you can’t have that. This would only be for . . . a month, maybe two. Long enough for Brendon to think I’m trying.”
Elle covered her face with her hands. Her fingers pressed into the skin beneath her brows, massaging the ridge of her eye sockets before she
dropped her hands and pinned Darcy with a stare. “You want us to . . . to fake a relationship? Are you serious?”
Was it what Darcy wanted? No. Not even close. This had escalated into something she hadn’t planned. This was decidedly more involved, requiring partnership when what she’d been aiming for was the soundness of singledom, Darcy Party of One. But she could adapt. She had no choice. “We can say we’re spending time together. Getting to know each other, feeling things out. It doesn’t have to be a thing. Just implied. We don’t have to . . . define the relationship.”
Elle’s tongue poked against her cheek. “This sounds like a supremely stupid plan. Like, awful. And if I’m the one saying that?” Elle snorted.
“A month or two, Elle. All you have to do is tell Brendon we’re talking and you will have done your good deed for the rest of the year. Then you can go back to trying to find your soul mate.” Darcy fought against the urge to cringe.
“You seriously think your brother’s going to buy that? No questions asked? Are we talking about the same guy?” Elle lifted a hand over her head. “About this tall, auburn hair, cute grin, shit at winking?”
Darcy sighed. She had a point. Brendon lived for details, sappy details, and if their stories didn’t align? Brendon was bright, too bright to accept inconsistencies. He’d sniff out Darcy’s lies and then she’d really be in hot water.
“That’s a fair point,” Darcy conceded. Not to mention, there was that pesky annual Christmas party of his. How was she supposed to act like she and Elle were together if they didn’t go together? “There’s an event or two I might need you to attend.”
Elle’s shoulders started to shake and it took Darcy a second to realize she was laughing. “Are you kidding me? You have some nerve, you know that?” She shook her head. “Why should I give a fuck about what you need?”
“I’d . . . I’d obviously return the favor.” Darcy winced through the offer. “If that’s what you want.”
Elle blinked. “You’re saying you’d come to something like . . . what, Thanksgiving? With my family?”
Oh Jesus. Darcy swallowed a groan. “I could do that.”
“And you’d . . . act like you’re smitten? Like the sun shines out of my ass?”
Darcy nodded. “Sure. Whatever.”
What was one holiday? As long as she got Brendon off her back, she could suffer through a family Thanksgiving with Elle. How bad could it be?
Arms crossed, Elle nibbled on the corner of her lip, eyes staring off into space over Darcy’s shoulder, going glassy. With a quick shake of her head, she snapped out of whatever thoughts were swimming around inside her head. “Darcy—”
“Please.” The word popped out, reflexive. Anything to make Elle say yes. “Just . . . please, Elle.”
Elle blinked, lips parting, pursing as she blew out her breath. “Fine.”
Darcy’s brows rose. “Fine?”
A muscle in Elle’s jaw twitched. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m in.”
She slipped past, arms brushing even though there was plenty of room for her to pass. Maple syrup and spice filled Darcy’s nose, making her mouth water. She swallowed and pivoted, watching as Elle shoved her feet back inside her shoes and opened the front door.
Fingers resting on the doorknob, Elle paused. “We can hammer out the details of this”—she made a face, lips twisting— “arrangement later.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Put my number in your phone. I’ll be in touch.”
Chapter Five
Am I losing my mind, or did you just say you’re going to fake a relationship with Darcy Lowell?”
Elle winced at the way Margot’s voice went shrill. “You’re perfectly sane.”
Margot stared. “Are you?”
“I have my reasons, all right?”
“Name one.”
“We haven’t hammered out the details yet, but we agreed it’s only for a month or two tops.”
“That’s not a reason, that’s an excuse. You know what, I actually don’t even know what that is, but it makes zero sense.”
“Darcy put me in a real bind, okay? Lying to her brother who then blabbed at breakfast in front of my mom.”
Margot slammed her laptop shut and tossed it on the cushion beside her. “So tell Darcy to go fuck herself.”
“It’s not that easy, Mar.”
“You open your mouth and say it. Fuck. You.” Margot shook her head. “Elle. Elle. This isn’t what you want. This is the opposite of what you want.”
A fake relationship wasn’t what she wanted. What she’d told Darcy was true—Elle wanted a real relationship. And not just any relationship, but the one. Her end game. She wasn’t picky, no matter what Mom said, but she was tired of going on first dates that never turned into second dates because either they were all wrong for her or she was wrong for them.
“You should’ve seen the look on my mom’s face,” Elle said. “Five minutes before that she was accusing me of being afraid of success, setting myself up for failure, and making life harder than it needs to be. In waltzes Brendon, talking about how his sister’s crazy about me. I was caught between a rock and a hard place. What was I supposed to say?”
“I don’t know. The truth, maybe?” Margot scowled. “Lying to your family isn’t the way to get them to take you seriously. What you need to do is tell them if they don’t like how you’re living your life, they can go fuck themselves because it’s not their life to live.”
“Jesus, Margot. Is that your solution to everything? Just tell everyone I know to fuck off?”
Talk about oversimplification. Her family might get on her nerves, but she wasn’t upset enough to burn bridges.
Margot drew a breath in and exhaled noisily before speaking. “It’s better than lying. You’re trying to find a short-term solution to a long-term problem. What are you going to do after your two months are up, hm?”
“When the time comes, I’ll . . . I’ll cross that bridge. Until then, I’m just . . .” Trying her best and hoping, like always, it would be good enough. “Making the most out of a weird situation.”
Margot grabbed her laptop and shoved it inside her messenger bag, hauling the strap onto her shoulder. “Lying to your family’s bad enough, Elle. Don’t start lying to yourself, too.”
* * *
What Rom-Com Are You Based on Your Zodiac Sign?
Aries—Fools Rush In
Taurus—Sweet Home Alabama
Gemini—She’s All That
Cancer—While You Were Sleeping
Leo—How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days
Virgo—The Proposal
Libra—Sleepless in Seattle
Scorpio—My Best Friend’s Wedding
Sagittarius—The Holiday
Capricorn—Two Weeks Notice
Aquarius—Clueless
Pisces—Never Been Kissed
“Whatcha lookin’ at?”
Heart rocketing into her throat, Darcy smashed the back button on her phone and aimed a withering stare at Brendon over her shoulder. “Jesus. Could you try not sneaking up on me?”
“Boring.” Brendon straightened from where he’d been crouched and rounded the table, dropping down into the chair opposite hers. “Besides, it’s practically my birthright as a younger brother to give you hell.”
“You’re twenty-six.”
He snagged a menu and ran his finger down the list of beverages. “Point being?”
“Point being, you should be above giving me grief on a daily basis. Don’t you have more important things to worry about? Running a company? Being featured on Forbes’s Thirty Under Thirty list?”
Flipping the menu over, Brendon shrugged. “Are you done deflecting? Can we discuss the fact that you were scrolling Oh My Stars?”
“I was not.” Darcy slipped her phone behind the salt and pepper shakers as if moving it out of sight might further refute Brendon’s accusation. Based on the way his smile grew even as he studied the menu, it did not. “I was . . . okay, fine, I
was glancing. It doesn’t mean I believe in any of it. It’s ridiculous. How does my astrological sign correlate in any capacity to my preference for rom-coms? It doesn’t. I don’t even like Two Weeks Notice.”
Brendon gaped at her. “Blasphemy. It’s got Sandra Bullock and Hugh Grant. Rom-com royalty. Don’t let me catch you saying that sort of thing again or else I’ll sit on you and force you through a remedial rom-com marathon.”
She took a sip of her sparkling water and mock-shivered. “Oh, the horror.”
“I, for one, think it’s cu-te”—he drew out the word, turning it into two obnoxious syllables—“you’re reading Oh My Stars. Taking an interest in your partner’s job and hobbies is important, Darce.”
Spare her the touchy-feely mumbo-jumbo, please. For starters, she wasn’t relationship illiterate, and two, there was nothing cute about it. Elle was not her partner. Partner in crime perhaps, but Darcy’s perusal of Elle’s Twitter account had nothing to do with caring about astrology and everything to do with preparedness. Like studying for an exam. Clearly, all this astrological malarkey meant something to Elle. If Darcy wanted to sell this relationship, she needed to understand what made Elle tick. If such a thing could even be pinpointed. So far, the verdict was out, the inner workings of one Elle Jones less of a neat little package to be unwrapped and more like a clown car full of increasingly random and terrifyingly endearing quirks.
Darcy took a sip of water. “Right. I was doing—that.”
The waitress swung by the table, dropping off her coffee before taking Brendon’s drink order. As soon as she was gone, Brendon leaned in, resting his elbows on the table, and gave her his best shit-eating grin.
“Speaking of Elle.”
Darcy took a long, slow sip of her coffee and stared at him over the rim. “What about Elle?”
He rolled his eyes. “Darcy.”
She smoothed the linen napkin on her lap and cocked her head. “All right. Should I start with how you did the one thing I expressly asked you not to? Not even twelve hours after you promised you wouldn’t go blabbing to Elle, what did you do? You ran your mouth, in front of her mother no less. You told her I was smitten, Brendon. Do you know how mortified I was when Elle told me?”
Written in the Stars Page 6