Vivienne’s POVI woke to the smell of whiskey before I even opened my eyes, and if that didn't mean something, then I had no idea what else would suffice. The stench came from a mile away, and it clung to the air like smoke, heavy, stale, and bitter enough to remind me exactly how the night ended.

If someone had predicted that I and Ronan still wouldn't be on talking terms by this morning, then best believe I would have called them a fucking liar. Yesterday, after Maverick had dropped off, I ...