Page 66 of Bitter Beats

Mckenna’s face softens. “I’d like that, Mav.”

I snap my fingers. “Go light that pine candle on the kitchen island. This house doesn’t smell like Christmas at all.”

Mckenna laughs but does as I ask.

Leaving our tree sans lights and ornaments, we relocate to the kitchen. I pull out the ingredients for sugar cookies, taking time to line up the colorful sprinkles and jimmies.

Mckenna watches me quietly, but her lips are pursed, and I know she’s thinking. I let her have this time as I whip up a batch of cookies. Mckenna and I wait for them to cool, decorate them together, and eat a handful before I whisk her to Snowport at the Seaport.

As we walk through the winter village, stopping to shop or enjoy some holiday entertainment, I wrap my arm around Mckenna. She doesn’t shake off my touch. Instead, she leans into me.

For a few minutes, I let myself believe that this is real. That Mckenna is my girlfriend, and we’re enjoying the holiday season together, making our own traditions and shoring up memories.

“Mav Tate!” a stranger calls out, pointing at me. “Hey, man!” He comes closer. “Can I get a picture?”

Mckenna smirks.

“Uh, sure,” I agree, not wanting to be rude.

He grins. “Thanks.” He passes me his iPhone and moves to pose with Mckenna.

Shock widens her eyes as she sputters to understand what the hell is happening.

“Come on, dude,” I groan. Of course, he would prefer to pose with Mckenna than me.

Am I losing my edge? Is Mckenna nudging me out of my own band’s popularity polls? The thought makes me grin.

The guy smirks and tosses an arm around Mckenna. She laughs and smiles for the photo, and like a big doofus, I snap the picture.

“Thanks, Kenny!” The guy waves like they’re freaking friends.

I hand him back his phone and take Mckenna’s hand, squeezing to remind her she’s with me, not that fan.

But she laughs. “I have a fan!”

“You have many fans,” I tell her the truth.

She looks up and bites the corner of her mouth.

“What?” I ask, trying to read her look.

“Are you jealous?” Her tone is teasing.

I smirk. “Always.” Give her the truth but wrap it up in a playful tone. I widen my eyes. “Can you soothe my male ego?”

She groans. “What do you want?”

“Hot chocolate! Extra marshmallows. Maybe some whip on top? Please, Mckenna,” I beg jokingly.

She laughs, and I feel it roll through me like magic. The spirit of Christmas. “Okay, Mav,” she agrees.

I fist pump the air and let out a whoop.

Mckenna shakes her head at my antics, but she’s cheesing hard. I swing our joined hands and give her fingers a press.

A silent thank you.

She squeezes back.

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