Page 76 of Bitter Beats

For the first time, I wish I asked Kimberly to check for other hotels when she mentioned The Bowery only had suites with one king bed available. Back then, I brushed off the thought of sharing a bed with Mav. Instead, I wanted to stay in this location. Now, I regret it.

Tonight, I want to be alone. I want to understand what transpired between Carrington and me. Why Maverick reacted the way he did. Why his callous words cut so deeply. Why I feel so strange—apart and confused and exhausted.

Sighing, I drop to the edge of the bed and lower my head into my hands. Tears gather in the corners of my eyes, and I blink them back.My head spins.

Why did he react that way? Was he genuinely jealous that Christian Carrington gave me his card and chatted me up? Or does Mav see me as a possession? As part of a contract that is solely to enhance his shitty reputation?

What does his behavior tonight say about the past few weeks? The cookies and the nights out and the sightseeing… Was any of it real?

Why am I so bothered—nearly in tears—over Maverick Tate?

The silence of the space expands around me, reminding me how alone I am. Isolated. I check my phone and wince at the blank screen. No messages. No calls. Not from Mav, not from my friends, and certainly not from my parents.

It’s days before Christmas, and neither of my parents reached out to invite me to spend the holiday with them. Even though Mom is staying in Boston—I confirmed it with her hairdresser since we still frequent the same salon. She’s staying local and still hasn’t replied to my last text asking if she’d like to celebrate the holiday together.

Maverick is going to Jameson’s, and while yesterday, I hoped he would ask me to join, tonight I know better.

I’ll be alone at Christmas.

The tears pinch my eyes again, and I sigh, frustrated and emotional.

“Tonight needs to end,” I decide, talking to myself.

Slipping under the covers, I turn off the light and will myself to sleep. Tomorrow has to be better than this, right?

“So proud of you,buddy. You’re truly an inspiration to all of us. Keep kicking cancer’s ass,” Mav chuckles. “Don’t tell your mom I swore. Be good and talk to you soon.”

His voice, low and steady, pulls me from sleep.

Huh?

I shift in the bed, dragging one eye open.

The room is dark, with only the moonlight illuminating Maverick’s frame. He’s hunched over in an armchair, his phone in hand. He scrolls through it, his eyes moving as he reads whatever is on the screen.

Then, he speaks again.“Hi there, Jamie. It’s me, Maverick Tate. I recently heard you’re getting a new heart. Girl, I am so psyched for you! I can’t imagine how tough and tiring it’s been, but you’ve been so brave. When you’re feeling up to it, you need to come to one of The Burnt Clovers’ concerts and sit in the front row, okay? I can’t wait to meet you one day. Good luck with your surgery, and I hope you have a Merry Christmas. See you.”

I snap my eyes shut, not wanting Mav to know I’m awake. I focus on keeping my breathing even while he continues to leave voice notes to a list of fans going through difficult and sensitive times in their lives.

The longer I listen to him speak, the more I realize this isn’t a publicity stunt Kimberly put him up to. He reads up on each fan, their situation, and their diagnosis, and leaves appropriate and heartfelt messages. He doesn’t rush through them or repeat the same words to every person. Nope, each message is thoughtful and personalized and…

Dammit. Maverick Tateisa good guy.

The man I’ve seen this past month is that guy.

But then tonight…those words.

I roll over, pressing my ear into the pillow while his voice travels like a hum through my limbs.

Why did he have to ruin things tonight? By being nasty. And hurtful. By kissing me for the sake of paparazzi and a photo op instead of kissing me…for me. For us.

Gah! There is no us.

The version of Maverick I witnessed tonight is the one I despised from day one. Egotistical, self-centered, and needy for attention.

The kind of man who would break my heart instantly just because he could. The type of man I know better than to date. Or worse, fall in love with.

“I know you’re awake.” His words rouse me.

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