Page 67 of Bitter Beats

TWENTY-THREE

MCKENNA

It’shard to ignore the Christmas spirit in New York City. Excitement strums through the streets. It gathers in restaurants and pubs and spills out of storefronts and boutiques, wrapping everyone up in its energy.

The holiday displays are massive, the store windows along Fifth Avenue burst with creativity, and holiday happy hours, dinners, and parties reign. For as much as I pretend not to love the festivities of Christmas, it’s impossible to remain aloof in Manhattan.

Partly, because my family spent a happy Christmas here when I was a little girl. I can still remember pressing my nose and fingertips against the cool glass of the hotel window, watching the snowflakes fall onto the busy bustle below. That Christmas, Dad gifted Mom diamond earrings she loved, and he gave me a fancy bottle of perfume. The bottle shape was vintage, with an atomizer that I carefully pressed once to spritz my neck and wrists. Then, I would dab my wrists behind my ears the way I’d seen Mom do before a party.

It’s one memory and still, I cling to it and the version of what my family could have been if we weren’t…us.

“Slide in here,” Mav says, guiding me into a seat at a small table in the busy restaurant.

“It’s packed!” I exclaim.

“It’s an institution,” Mav remarks, passing me a menu. “You really only have three choices—blueberry, banana walnut, or chocolate chip.”

I smirk. “What if I wanted?—”

“Don’t say oatmeal.”

“Granola.”

Mav looks up, his expression bewildered. “Granola? Mckenna, I tell you this place is an institution and you counter with granola? What kind of a lawyer are you planning to be?”

I shake my head, fighting my laughter. “That’s not an argument, Maverick. You’re?—”

“What can I get you?” The server appears.

“Blueberry pancakes and a coffee,” I order before Mav can have a meltdown.

He rolls his eyes and orders the chocolate chip pancakes.

Once we have our coffees, I ease back in my chair.

“You look happier,” Mav comments. I should be used to his observations by now, but the fact that he can read me catches me off guard.

I blow on my coffee before meeting his eyes. “I am. Being here at Christmastime… It’s magical, isn’t it?”

“Exactly!” he beams. “I knew you were holding out on me.”

I snort. “Sometimes, it’s just a change of scenery. Sometimes, I need out of Boston.”

Mav frowns. “Because of your parents’ divorce?”

I take a sip of my coffee, thinking about his question. “That’s a big part of it. Their divorce is nasty. My dad cheated on my mom.” I glance at Mav for his reaction, but his expression is locked down. I take another gulp of the strong brew. “He cheated before but the last time, it was with my aunt. My mom’s sister.”

Mav’s mouth falls open. “Shut up.”

“I’m serious,” I sigh, wishing I wasn’t. “The worst part is, I can see both of their sides. They were both awful to each other for years. Mom acting out to get Dad’s attention—throwing parties, taking trips without telling him first, flirting with his business partners. And then, Dad punishing her by actually stepping out.” I shake my head. “But we had this one magical Christmas.” I tap the table. “Here, in the city.”

Mav clears his throat, watching me closely. “That sounds really fucked up, Mckenna. It’s almost shocking you turned out normal.”

“I’m not normal, Mav. Most days, I’m barely getting by,” I admit.

He leans closer. “I get that, you know? From the stories my nana and pop shared, my mom was gold before she met my dad. In all fairness, he had the potential to be a decent guy. He did…things, stepped up in ways that would have been applauded if he didn’t fuck them up so badly afterwards.”

I frown, trying to read between the lines. “What did?—”

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