Darcy followed Elle up the brick steps. The closer they came to the front door, the slower Elle’s steps became, like she was marching off to the executioner’s block and not her childhood home. On the landing, Elle spun on her heel, nearly knocking into Darcy who was right behind her. Her lips pulled back from her teeth in a grimace. “Look, Darcy—”
The front door opened, stopping Elle from finishing what she’d been trying to say. “Elle, you made it.”
This must have been Elle’s mom. The woman opening the door had the same blue eyes, the same tiny cleft in her chin. Fine lines appeared beside the corners of her eyes when she smiled and reached for Elle, hands curling around her shoulders, tugging her in for a brief hug before drawing back, her eyes darting over Elle’s face, before she caught sight of Darcy over her shoulder. “You must be Darcy. It’s so good to meet you. Call me Linda.”
Darcy slid the strap of her brown leather hobo bag down her arm and withdrew the bottle of wine she’d packed as a hostess gift. “Likewise. Thank you so much for having me. I wasn’t sure what kind of wine you like, so I brought my favorite.”
Linda’s eyebrows lifted high on her forehead. “Why don’t I take this to the kitchen and open it up?”
Elle goggled. “Mom, it’s barely after noon.”
“And?” Linda waved for them to follow as she slipped inside the house.
“How come when I day drink on holidays, it’s all ‘Elle, be reasonable. Tequila’s not a breakfast food.’ Or, ‘Elle, take that onesie off. You’re scaring the kids.’ But now you’re all, it’s five o’clock somewhere. What gives?”
Linda ignored her.
“Mom.”
“I’m sorry.” Linda didn’t even look over her shoulder. “I thought that was rhetorical.”
Elle frowned sharply as Linda disappeared around the corner, a dismissal if Darcy had ever seen one.
She snagged Elle by the elbow. “You own a onesie?”
“A unicorn onesie, yes. What’s your point?”
Darcy tried not to wince when the itchy polyblend of her sweater scratched her shoulders. “Sounds cute.”
Laughter drifted down the hall.
“Come on. Let’s go meet my family.” Fingers tangling with hers, Elle tugged her down the hall, stopping in the entry of a spacious living room, the walls painted a soothing shade of pale olive. The conversation cut off, all eyes on them.
Lifting a hand, Elle was nearly bowled over by the force of a tiny shouting boy. “Aunt Elle!”
Voices blended together into one synchronous, “Hey, Elle,” and six sets of eyes quickly turned to Darcy, studying her with looks ranging from openly curious to shrewd.
Elle coughed lightly, hand drifting down to rest on her nephew’s head. “Everyone, this is Darcy. Darcy, this is . . . well, everyone.”
“I’m Ryland.” Elle’s nephew peeked up from where he was hugging Elle’s knees. He lifted a hand, thumb and pinky folded against his palm. “I’m three.”
Darcy dropped to a crouch and grinned. “My name’s Darcy. I’m almost thirty.”
Ryland’s eyes rounded comically.
Chuckles came from the couch. “Come on, Rye. Give your aunt some space.”
Elle’s nephew scampered off toward where a mess of Legos lay scattered by the dining room table.
“I’m Jane, and this is my husband, Gabe.” Elle’s oldest sister waved, her other hand resting atop a noticeable baby bump stretching the limits of her garish red-and-green sweater that matched her husband’s.
“Daniel.” Elle’s brother stood and offered his hand and a warm smile. He jerked a thumb over his shoulder to the guy holding a chubby dachshund. “That’s the love of my life. And then there’s my husband, Mike.”
Mike rolled his eyes. “Always good to know where I stand. The dog’s Penny, by the way.”
Darcy shook his hand and nodded. “Nice to meet you both. And Penny.”
From the far end of the sofa, dressed in a blue-and-cream snowflake-embroidered sweater that was festive but not ugly, waved a girl who had the same chin but darker hair than Elle. “I’m Lydia. And this is my—” She glanced up adoringly at the guy with a blond high fade wearing a basic gray crewneck sweater whose side she was tucked against. He returned her smile, tapping her on the tip of the nose. “Marcus.”
He tipped his chin in a greeting before addressing Elle. “Lyds has told me a lot about you.”
Elle stiffened, her grip on Darcy’s forearm tightening minutely. She gave an awkward chuckle. “All good things, I hope.”
The corner of Marcus’s mouth lifted in a not-quite smile.
Jane cleared her throat and patted the couch. “Come sit. Tell us how you’ve been.”
Darcy took a seat beside Elle on the one open cushion. Elle tapped her fingers against her thighs, prompting Darcy to grab a hand to keep her from openly fidgeting. The gesture earned her a quick squeeze.
“I’ve been good. Actually, I’ve been—”
“I’ve got your wine, Darcy.” Linda returned to the living room, a glass in each hand.
“What about me?” Elle frowned.
Linda took a sip from her glass and sat in the armchair closest to the fire. “Did you want some? You should’ve asked.”
Elle’s frown deepened, expression clearing when a tall man with gray hair and smile lines stepped into the room. “Dad.”
When she stood, Darcy quickly followed suit.
“Elle-belle.” He leaned over the coffee table, planting a kiss on her forehead. “And this must be Darcy who we’ve all been dying to meet.”
Darcy wasn’t so sure about the dying to meet her bit, but she smiled anyway. “It’s nice to meet you, sir.”
He batted at the air, chuckling softly. “Sir, bah! Call me Simon.” His hazel eyes darted back to Elle as he held out a bottle of hard cider. “Got you covered, kid.”
Elle smiled. “Thanks, Dad.”
Simon perched on the arm of the chair beside his wife. “So. Darcy. Tell us a little about yourself.”
Inside, Darcy groaned. She loathed the spotlight, but she’d been to enough corporate retreats over the last eight years that she had a neat elevator speech at the ready. “Sure. I recently moved to town from Philadelphia, though I’m originally from San Francisco. And I work at Deveraux and Horton Mutual Life as an associate actuary, although I’m currently preparing for my final exam to become an FSA.”
Simon whistled. “Impressive.”
This wasn’t supposed to be about impressing Elle’s family. Tangentially, perhaps, if it reflected good on Elle. “Not as impressive as Elle’s work.”
Across the room, Linda smiled politely. “How about your family? I believe I met your brother. Any other siblings?”
Elle sank into the couch, fingers sliding against Darcy’s palm as she attempted to withdraw her hand. Darcy squeezed her fingers, holding firm. “Other than my father who lives in Toronto and my mother who still lives in California, it’s just me and Brendon. He’s extremely excited to be working with Elle.”
“Right.” Linda’s smile tightened. “The dating app.”
Darcy bit the side of her tongue to keep from pulling a face at the way Elle’s mother made dating app sound like a dirty word.
“What dating app?” Daniel asked, leaning forward, elbows on his knees.
“One True Pairing,” she said.
His brows rose. “You’re working for OTP?”
Elle cleared her throat, sitting up straight. “With. Um.” She scratched the side of her neck, eyes darting around the room. A soft flush spread up her throat, deepening at her cheeks. “Margot and I, we’re consulting with OTP to add synastry, or astrological compatibility, to the app’s matching algorithm. It’s, um, it’s pretty cool, I guess.”
Pretty cool. I guess. Darcy would have to be oblivious not to notice how Elle shrank in on herself, couching her words and understating her success. She was no expert, but she couldn’t help but wonder if Elle subconsciously downplayed her ac
hievements to soften the blow when her family did the same.
Despite the furrow of his brow, Daniel smiled. “Well, congrats, sis.”
Linda nodded absently. “That sounds like a neat opportunity for you, Elle. I’m sure it’ll be a . . . fun job. Right up your alley.”
A neat opportunity. Darcy’s jaw ticked, her ability to tolerate bullshit slim, her ability to tolerate condescension worse.
Could they not have tried to appear authentically enthused? Darcy might not have believed in astrology—most of it honestly went over her head, talk of houses and returns and interceptions—but she listened when Elle spoke about it because it may not have mattered to her but it sure as hell mattered to Elle. How could they not see that? How could they not care? At the very least, Darcy understood what a fucking fantastic opportunity this was. Neat, her ass.
Still gripping Elle’s hand fiercely, Darcy sat up straighter. “Elle’s being modest. The deal with my brother’s company is quite frankly, massive. The dating app industry, as a whole, is oversaturated, and while OTP does a fantastic job of offering a unique user experience, it was brilliant of my brother to look to a rapidly growing, yet still young industry like astrology.” Darcy reached for her wine and took a fortifying sip. “Did you know venture capitalists have invested over two billion dollars in astrology apps because they’re popular with Gen Z and Millennial women? That means there’s money to be made. There are thousands of social media astrology accounts and yet Oh My Stars has more followers on Twitter and Instagram than any of their competitors, so you might not believe in it, plenty of people might not, but a huge number do.” Darcy shrugged. “And like I said, my brother’s brilliant. He wouldn’t take a chance on just anyone, let alone sign a deal this big.”
Linda’s eyes, suddenly wide, darted between her and Elle. “How big?”
Elle’s face had turned the prettiest shade of petal pink, her eyes huge and glassy as she stared at Darcy for a long moment, finally looking at her mother. “Um. Big.”
“Damn, get that bread, sis,” Daniel joked.
“Bread?” Dad frowned thoughtfully. “I thought it was bacon? What’s next, get that guacamole?”
Daniel laughed. “Dough, Dad.”
While Elle’s family argued over the etymology of bread as a stand-in for money, Jane insisting it dated back to Cockney slang, Elle leaned in, lips brushing against the shell of Darcy’s ear as she dropped her voice to a whisper. “Two billion dollars, huh?”
Darcy rolled her eyes, but Jesus. Elle’s breath against Darcy’s skin did outrageous things to her pulse. “I did my research.”
Elle had no idea how many nights Darcy had stayed up, scouring Oh My Stars’s various social media accounts and reading articles from the New York Times on venture capital and astrology apps. It had started as a means of making sure she had her i’s dotted and t’s crossed if Brendon seemed suspicious about the veracity of her dating Elle. After that kiss, that fucking kiss, it had been her way of gaining insight into Elle’s mind. Because perhaps if she understood astrology, she’d understand Elle, and if she understood Elle perhaps, she’d be able to untangle what it was about her that she couldn’t shake.
Why she was so in knots over this impossible woman who had her head in the clouds and wore her heart on her sleeve. A woman with the world’s least refined palate and an inability to sit properly in a chair like a normal person. Darcy should’ve wanted as far away from her as earthly possible and yet her laugh was infectious and made something warm bloom inside Darcy’s chest like stubborn wildflowers poking up through cracks in the pavement, growing where they didn’t belong. And the way she looked at Darcy with those dark blue eyes made Darcy feel seen like Elle wasn’t looking at her but into her and it was raw and uncomfortable and yet—
That she’d tacked on the word yet should’ve sent warning bells off inside her head. Darcy wasn’t looking to be seen. Not like that. Not now. She had an FSA exam to pass, a career to focus on. The only place Darcy had any business being seen was in the mirror each morning as she got ready for work, and yet every free moment—even moments that weren’t free—Darcy spent thinking about Elle. About that kiss. About the sorts of things Darcy could do to put a smile on her face. About—
Something smacked the side of Elle’s head. A bottle cap. Across the room, with his sock-covered feet propped on the coffee table, Daniel grinned. “Quit making out.”
Elle plucked the cap off the floor and flicked it back at him. “We weren’t making out, you douche canoe.”
“Elle.” Jane widened her eyes and tilted her head toward the dining room where Ryland was building a tower out of Legos, none the wiser.
“Oh, come on.”
“Last month after you babysat, Ryland asked me what a”—she dropped her voice—“twatwaffle was and if his could have chocolate chips.”
Darcy pinched her lips together, eyes watering and shoulders shaking as she leaned into Elle who was stifling her laughter—poorly—by biting her knuckles.
“Twatwaffle?” Daniel cackled. “That’s fucking inspired, Elle.”
“Language.” Linda glared briefly at Elle before turning to Daniel, lips curved downward in apparent disappointment. “I expect this sort of thing from your sister, but honestly, Daniel?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Elle asked, frowning sharply.
Linda shut her eyes. “Elizabeth—”
“Ahem. Not that this isn’t totally riveting.” Lydia unfolded herself from the couch and stood, tugging Marcus up with her. “But while we’re talking about good news, Marcus and I have an announcement we’d like to make.”
Beside her, Elle stiffened.
“Oh my god,” Linda breathed, clasping her hands in front of her chest.
Elle’s little sister reached inside her sweater and withdrew a long chain from around her neck. Dangling from its length was an impressively sized princess-cut diamond engagement ring. Lydia bounced on her toes, beaming from ear to ear. “Marcus proposed and I said yes, obviously. I’m engaged!”
Darcy swallowed her groan, not that anyone would’ve heard it over the din of Elle’s family jumping to their feet to wrap Lydia in hugs and congratulate the newly engaged happy couple.
She didn’t want to think the worst of Elle’s little sister, but seriously? Of all the times to announce her engagement, did it have to be right on the heels of Elle finally getting her moment in the spotlight? Finally being seen for the bright, successful, enterprising woman she was? She’d argue the timing was circumspect if not for the fact that Lydia did, in fact, have a ring.
“Elle.” Linda jerked her head at Lydia pointedly.
“Right, shit. I mean, sorry. Congratulations, sis. That’s—” Her eyes shut for just a moment. When she opened them, she offered Lydia a genuine smile. “I’m really happy for you.”
Lydia had slipped the ring on her finger. She twisted it slightly, adjusting it so it sat right. “Thanks, Elle.” She chuckled. “Who knows, maybe you’ll be next?”
Elle tugged her fingers free from Darcy’s grip and Darcy immediately missed the warmth of her skin.
Her laughter sounded forced, fake. “Ha. Maybe.”
* * *
An hour later, from the head of the table, Mom lifted her glass of wine in the air and looked at Lydia with a glowing smile. God, what Elle wouldn’t give to have Mom look at her like that, just once. “A quick toast. To Lydi-bee. Your father and I are so proud of you and we couldn’t be happier for you and for Marcus as you embark on this exciting journey together. We love you, Lydia.”
Lydia wiped beneath her eyes as everyone, Elle included, saluted them, drinks raised. As soon as she could, Elle gulped her cider, trying to wash out the bitter taste that had taken up residence in the back of her mouth. Envy never failed to make Elle feel guilty; it just wasn’t who she was, wasn’t an emotion she felt at home in, but there was a part of her, a secret part tucked away, buried so deep she didn’t even let on to Margot, that was worried it was who
she was becoming. That her feelings of inadequacy were mutating into something ugly. Resentment.
She was happy for Lydia, but that didn’t make this any easier. Sitting and smiling and nodding politely as everyone congratulated her loudly, Elle’s own accomplishments once again taking a back seat. God. Not even the back seat because then, at least, she’d be included. There was no room for Elle in the car.
Making matters worse was that Darcy had seen it all unfold, had a painfully intimate front-row seat. And that comment Lydia had made about Elle being next to get married? Fuck her life. Lydia couldn’t have known Darcy and Elle’s relationship was fake; Darcy had done a commendable job of playing the role of besotted girlfriend. An achingly good job, so good Elle almost felt like this was real, which was almost worse because added to the brewing resentment was an unhealthy dose of yearning. Tugged in too many directions, Elle felt sick, stomach queasy.
She had agreed to go along with this fake-dating sham in hopes that her family might take her seriously if they saw her in a different light, if they saw she had one part of her life going according to a plan they could get behind. So far, her stock had barely risen in their eyes even with Darcy talking her up. Adding insult to injury, she and Darcy were scheduled to “break up” in a little over a month.
Where would that leave her? Back where she started or worse? Maybe her family would think her an even bigger mess. She’d hoped to paint the breakup as mutual and faultless, but knowing her luck, her family would find her culpable no matter what she said.
Mom clapped her hands and scooted her chair forward. “All right, everyone. Dig in.”
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