Page 11 of Even Beneath the Stars

"Nothing," I lie.

Mom narrows her eyes. "Maggie…"

I sigh. "Fine. I got put on probation at the Kid's Club because Xavier Rockwell exists, and The Welsford is allergic to upsetting rich people. But I survived, and now I am officially a free woman."

Technically, the probation lifted a week ago, but this is the first time I've hung out with Laney outside of work in a few days.

Mom's expression softens. "Aw, hon, I'm sorry that happened." She wipes her hands on a dish towel and leans against the counter. "Was this Rockwell guy being offensive?"

Beck straightens to his full height a few feet away. "Was he giving you problems?"

I refrain from rolling my eyes. Just like the arrogance thing, the whole macho guy thing isn't my jam.

"No. He was just obnoxious and entitled."

"Well, there you go." Mom nods sagely, her dark curls bouncing. She gives me that look—the one that says she's about to drop some motherly wisdom. "Sounds likehisissue—not yours. Don't let some entitled rich boy get under your skin. Pick your battles, Maggs."

I exhale, then nod. "It’s over, anyway. And honestly? I ended up loving his little brother, Finn. He was a total nightmare for the first few weeks. But turns out, he just needs someone who isn’t gonna let him bulldoze them."

Laney nods. "Yeah, Finn's an awesome little dude, once you get past the tantrums." After a second, she adds, "Don't think I met his parents once yet. Did you?"

"Nope," I shake my head. It's always the new nanny or Denise—the infamous P.A.—who picks Finn up. Interestingly, Xavier's name still hasn't been added to Finn’s pick-up list. So clearly, even his parents realize their eldest son is an obnoxious sugar-coated toad whose maturity level doesn't clock in much higher than his five-year-old brother’s, and therefore should not be entrusted with his care.

"Probably weird rich family dynamics going on." Beck smacks his hand a couple of times against a shelf to click it into place.

Laney lets out a dreamy sigh, sliding off the counter. "Well, I don't care if Xavier Rockwell's family dynamics are more bizarre than a pack of caffeinated chihuahuas. I would literally empty my college fund for five minutes with those perfect lips on my chapped, sunburned ones."

"Gross." I wrinkle my nose. "You need ChapStick and therapy, not Xavier Rockwell."

"Come on," she protests, gesturing wildly. "You can't tell me you haven't noticed his—"

"If you say jawline, I'm throwing this Monopoly board at your head."

I ignore the niggling thoughts reminding me that I did, in fact, notice Xavier Rockwell's jawline. And his eyes. And lips.

Unfortunately, I also noticed his deplorable attitude.

Beck chokes on a laugh, nearly dropping the shelf. "Careful, Laney. I think she means it."

"She better not. That's a brand new Monopoly board," mom pipes in.

"His eyes then," Laney continues, undeterred. "They're like… pools of—"

"Nope." I push my finger against her lips. "No poetry about Xavier's eyes. I'd rather bathe in a tub of week-old gas station sushi."

Mom snorts from behind the counter. "Wow, that's oddly specific."

"You're all impossible," Laney declares, throwing her hands up. "One day,you'll understand. One magical day when you realize Xavier Rockwell is—"

"The only unexpected revelation I'll ever have about Xavier Rockwell is that—"

"Alright, boss". Beck cuts me off. "Enough bashing Rockwell." He glances at the shelves he just positioned. "What’s next?"

The next few hours blur into a rhythm of unpacking, organizing, and transforming the space. Mom's vision comes alive with each box we open. The massive windows flood the café with late afternoon light while Beck helps hang potted plants, their leaves casting dancing shadows across the hardwood floors, while Laney and I string fairy lights across exposed beams.

Eventually, Laney, Beck and I hug my mother goodbye and bike out to Marram Lighthouse, racing through Sandy Haven's winding streets. The salty air whips through my hair as we coast downhill, past sprawling beach houses and overflowing flower boxes. Beck shows off almost the entire time, doing backflips and spins and a bunch of other insane stunts on his bike. And I think even Laney finds his brand of cockiness eye-roll worthy.

A few people are already there when we arrive, gathering driftwood for the fire pit. And once we get it started, we cook hot dogs over the flames. Talk for hours, then set up tents and fall asleep sometime in the wee hours of the morning to the sound of waves lapping against the shore.

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