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Chapter Sixty-Three

Xavier

I find Denise in the laundry room, the familiar hum of industrial dryers filling the space. She's talking to Mariela, who's folding sheets at the long center table, her movements quick and precise.

"Hey," I say, brushing rain from my hoodie. "Back from New York. Just checking in, like you asked."

Denise looks up, her eyes warming. "Hi Hon, welcome back."

Mariela glances up, then quickly ducks her head. She's one of the staff members who always acts nervous around me. But I remember her son's meltdown last week, when she stopped in after running kitchen errands.

"Hey Mariela, did your son end up finding his stuffed monkey?"

Her face lights up. "Oh, yes, Mister Xavier. Leo found his monkey at the flower shop." She lets out a relieved laugh. "Thank the Lord."

I nod. "That's great."

"Don't go anywhere," Denise points at me. "We're just finishing up and I want to hear how your trip went."

I lean against the doorframe while Denise and Mariela wrap up their conversation about new drapes for my parents' wing that need altering. Mariela grabs a worn cardigan from a hook by the door, gives us a small wave, and heads out for the day.

Denise turns her full attention on me. "So? How was New York?"

"Good... Really good." I sidle up, then rest one hip against the long white counter, careful not to disturb my father's shirts hanging just above it. "Busy."

The air smells like lavender dryer sheets and warm cotton.

"And sleep?" She leans in, studying my face. Checking my eyes for dark circles probably.

"Enough." At her raised eyebrow, I add, "Most nights."

"Xavier."

"We had a lot to get done."

She pulls her phone from her pocket when it pings and checks the screen, then places it on the counter, her attention back on me. "And school?"

"Keeping up."

"Any grades below a B?"

I roll my eyes. "Mostly B's, one A in English."

She looks surprised. "Well, that's great. You've got a lot on your plate."

"Nothing I can't handle."

Denise hums. "Are you staying in tonight?" She asks. "Your body could probably use the rest after the last few days."

"Actually..." I shift my weight, suddenly aware of my racing pulse. "Maggie's coming over."

Denise's eyes soften as she studies me. "We haven't seen much of her around here lately."

I nod, unable to meet her gaze.

"Everything okay there?" Her voice carries that gentle tone she's used since I was little, the one that says she thinks I need to get something off my chest, and she’s giving me the space to do it.

"I pushed her away." The words scrape my throat. "Figured she'd leave eventually, so..." I run a hand through my hair. "I screwed it up. By making her leave instead."

Denise's phone pings again. She glances at it briefly before turning her full attention back to me.

"I made this terrible diorama thing of the Observatory." A laugh escapes me. "Had Seb deliver it yesterday. Wrote about all the notes she'd been leaving me. How I kept every single one." My voice drops. "I totally cheesed out. I mean, full-on laid everything out for her and now…" I blow out a breath. "Now I'm kinda fr eaking out."

"Because you feel vulnerable."

"Because I'm terrified I'll still mess everything up," I groan.

Denise's phone buzzes once more. She ignores it completely this time, reaching out to squeeze my arm instead. "Love isn't about being perfect, Xavier. It's about showing up, again and again, even when it's scary."

I just nod.

"For what it's worth," she adds. "I think the two of you are adorable together… And Maggie would be a lucky girl to be with you." She waits until my gaze lifts from the tiled floor and meets hers. "You're a great guy, Xavier." She squeezes my arm. "I'm sorry you don't hear it enough."

Something loosens in my chest at her words and it gives me hope that maybe trying could be enough.

That I could be enough.

The rain taps against the glass dome overhead, a steady rhythm that should be soothing but instead just amplifies my anxiety. I check my phone again. 8:40. She's ten minutes late.

My stomach churns as I pace the circular room. The telescope's brass fittings gleam in the dim light, and I resist the urge to polish them just for something to do with my hands. The spark of confidence that lit just a couple hours ago after my conversation with Denise is long gone. Drenched in doubt.

What was I thinking? Making a kindergarten-level diorama as a sweeping love gesture? After shutting her out for weeks on end. Who fucking does that?

I stop at the window, pressing my forehead against the cool glass. Below, rain transforms the gardens into a blur of shadows and the ocean into a dark, yawning void.

Maybe she's not coming. Maybe she read my pathetic attempt at explaining myself and decided I'm not worth the trouble. I wouldn't blame her. I lied to her, acted like a total asshole at that party, then shut her out completely when she tried to give me a second chance.

And then what? I try to fix it with some lopsided, glue-saturated craft project?

The memory of finding her notes makes my chest tight - tucked into my guitar case, slipped under my door, even folded into tiny boats and left floating in the pool. Each one a lifeline I ignored because I was too much of a coward to grab hold.

My phone buzzes and I nearly drop it trying to check the screen. But it's just Seb asking how it's going.

I don't respond. Can't deal with his optimism right now when I'm drowning in self-doubt. The rain picks up, drumming harder against the glass dome.

"Hey… Sorry I'm kinda late."

I whirl around at the sound of her voice, my heart slamming against my ribs. She stands in the doorway, rain dripping from her pink hair onto her shoulders. Her vintage denim jacket is soaked through, paired with a yellow corduroy skirt and bright knee socks. A silver chain with tiny robot charms catches the dim light.

The carefully rehearsed speech evaporates from my mind. All those perfect words I'd planned? Gone. My mouth opens but nothing comes out.

But Maggie doesn't wait for me to find my voice. She crosses the room in quick steps and wraps her arms around my waist, pressing her face into my chest. The familiar scent of her shampoo fills my senses as I fold my arms around her, pulling her closer. Her jacket is cold and wet against my skin but I don't care.

The steady drumming of rain against the glass dome fills the silence as we hold each other. My racing pulse begins to slow, the knot in my stomach loosens with each breath. The world narrows to just this - her warmth against me, the slight tremor in her fingers where they grip my shirt, the soft tickle of her hair under my chin.

Her laugh vibrates against my chest, soft and perfect. "You smell like lavender fabric softener."

"You smell like coconut…" I pull back. "And also like spray paint."

She laughs. "Sexy."

"It is."

She rolls her eyes. "You're such a liar."

"I'm a fucking idiot," I correct her, holding both her arms, my tan fingers plain and boring against the vibrant green stripes on her top. "I'm so sorry, Maggs… I'm so sorry for taking so long to get my shit together. I didn't—"

"Stop." She cuts me off, then pulls me into another hug. This one tighter. She squeezes me, clutching at my shirt with her fists. "Ohmygod it's so good to hug you."

It's so good to be hugged.

A few minutes later, we're lying on the pile of cushions, shoulders touching, gazing up through the glass dome. The rain creates shifting patterns across the night sky, turning the stars into wavering points of light. The steady drumming of water against glass fills the comfortable silence between us.

"I think I missed this the most," Maggie says softly. "Being up here with you. Looking up at the stars together."

"Yeah." I swallow hard. "Me too."

We watch the rain trace paths down the curved glass for a few moments. My chest feels tight, but in a good way this time. Like something breaking open and healing all at once.

"It was stupid," I blurt out. "The diorama I sent you. I should've-"

"Are you kidding me?" Maggie props herself up on one elbow, looking down at me with wide eyes. "I loved the diorama. It was the sweetest thing anyone's ever done for me."

I stare at her, not sure I heard right. The diorama took me three attempts and still looked like something Finn would make in art class. The telescope was basically a straw covered in wrinkled gum wrappers .

A grin spreads across her face. "Don't get me wrong - it was horrible. Like, you need to stick with the guitar and never go near a glue gun for the rest of your days... but I loved it."

Her laugh breaks through my embarrassment and I find myself laughing too, the sound echoing off the glass dome above us.

Maggie shifts closer, reaching out to brush a lock of hair away from my eyes. Her touch is gentle, almost hesitant. The playful mood from moments ago settles into something deeper.

"I read your letter six times," she says, her voice soft but steady. "Every single word."

My eyes widen and my throat tightens. We're so close I can see the flecks of gold in her hazel eyes, count each freckle across her nose. The vulnerability in her expression makes my heart race.

"It took me the whole afternoon to write it," I admit. "I kept starting over."

"Well, it was worth it." Her fingers trail down to rest against my cheek. "You got everything perfect."

"I meant it all, Maggs. Every word." The truth of it hits me full force—how much I need her to understand this. "I've never... I've never actually had a girlfriend before. And I might really suck at it."

She starts to speak but I press on, needing to get this out.

"But I promise I'm going to try. I want to be the kind of boyfriend you deserve."

Maggie shakes her head, her expression soft but determined. "You don't need to worry about being the 'perfect boyfriend.' You're already the most loyal person I know."

"What?" I blink at her, caught off guard.

"Look at how you are with Finn. The way you'd move heaven and earth for that kid." Her fingers trace along my jaw. "Or that night at the Foundry—you didn't even hesitate to jump in when those guys were harassing Dylan. You got arrested defending your friend."

My chest tightens at the memory. "That's different— "

"No, it's not." She cuts me off. "That's exactly who you are, Xave. You fight for the people you care about. That's all you need to do—keep fighting for us. Even when your father sucker punches your ego or tries to beat down your confidence... just keep fighting. And I'll do the same."

The intensity in her eyes makes my breath catch. She sees me—really sees me—in a way no one else ever has.

"I can do that," I whisper, meaning it more than anything I've ever said.

Maggie leans in, pressing her lips to mine in a gentle kiss. I feel her smile against my mouth.

"We're gonna rock this relationship thing, Xave."

I grin against her lips. "We're gonna rock the hell out of it."

Her smile turns into a laugh and she falls back against the cushions.

Beneath the stars, with the rain sliding down the glass and her fingers still tangled in mine, I stop waiting to feel worthy. I just am. And for the first time, that truth doesn’t scare me—it settles in. Quiet. Certain. Unshakeable.