Page 104 of Even Beneath the Stars

I frown, confused.

Maggie’scar? Why does she have her car here? She’sworking.

I open my mouth to ask—

But my stomach lurches.

I stumble outside. Finn calls after me.

Everything is spinning.

The next thing I know, I’mpuking my chocolate hazelnut eclair out behind a bush, berating myself:way to show them I’m not the pathetic disappointment my father accuses me of being…

Then everything goes hazy.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Xavier

Ijolt awake, my head pounding, sprawled on top of my covers, fully dressed. The room spins as I fumble for my phone on the nightstand. The bright screen burns my eyes.

8:20 P.M. Saturday.

"Shit." I bolt upright, instantly regretting the sudden movement as nausea hits. Saturday night.Maggie. We were supposed to go on our third date today at five.

My stomach lurches as fragments of the day crash back. My mother by the hot tub in that ridiculous bikini, practically preening for my friends. Seb's house. The burn of 25-year-old Macallan. Then lunch…

Oh God. Lunch.

And Maggie… Fuuuuuck.Maggie was there.

Her and Finn waiting while I lost my dignity all over the Welsford's prize-winning cedar hedges.

I groan and fall back against my pillows. Instead of giving Maggie an epic third date, I gave her front row seats to the Xavier Rockwell self-destruction show.

My phone buzzes with a text from Seb.

Seb

u alive bro?

I type back.

Xave

All good

Such a lie. Nothing is good. I just royally fucked up the best thing that's ever happened to me.

I lie in shame, marinating in the consequences of trying to drink away reality, wondering how the hell I'm going to face Maggie after this—because as much as I hate to admit it, my father is right. I really am a freaking embarrassment. And, as I'm sure Maggie is realizing right now, a total disappointment.

Evidently, I'm a pig-headed bastard too, because I'm still not prepared to let her go. Even though I know the right thing to do is accept that a girl like Maggie LeClair deserves better than getting dragged down by a guy like me and my mess of a life, I want to beg her for another shot. I want a chance to make it up to her. To take her on a perfect third date.

To have that kiss.

A hot shower helps clear my head, although shame still sits heavy in my gut. I'm thankful, at least, I won't need to face anyone else tonight. For a few hours anyway, my shame is my own. Maggie has the night off. Only Rita to face, who already thinks I'm a spectacular waste of space.

I pull on clean sweats and a T-shirt, desperate for food to soak up the lingering alcohol. Heading through the hallway toward the stairs, a familiar voice stops me cold.

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