Chapter 4
FOUR
MCKENNA
IT’S NOT THE END.
It plays on my mind like a mantra throughout my graduation lunch. As thrilled as I am to have Dad, Jeannie, my best friends, and The Burnt Clovers celebrate my graduation, Mav’s presence hits differently.
He’s here.
It’s not the end.
Not even close.
“To our next lawyer,” Reign announces, lifting his beer.
Levi snorts. “Don’t let Aiden hear you say that.”
Jameson winks at me and holds up his glass.
The rest of the table follows and I blush at the attention. At the praise.
“Proud of you, kid,” Dad mutters, clinking his beer against my wineglass.
“Thank you, Dad,” I reply softly, taking a sip of my wine.
Across the table, Mav’s eyes hold mine.
And even though weeks, hell, months, have passed, I can still read his expression as easily as my own thoughts.
I’m proud of you.
I missed you.
We need to talk.
And we do.
There’s so much to say. So many things I’ve wanted to pick up the phone to tell him over the past few weeks.
Somewhere over the last year, Mav became more than my reluctant roommate and the guy I asked to marry me drunk in Vegas.
He became my person. My best friend. The man I could count on, trust, and believe in.
Even at the end, when he went on a bender and served me with papers, a part of me acknowledged that my actions contributed to his reaching that breaking point.
We both made mistakes. We were both wrong.
But today, we’re both here.
And it’s not fucking over.
“It’s still your house,” I remind Mav when I pull open the door to the brownstone the following day.
He smirks, removing his Wayfarer sunglasses and giving me his eyes. “I like that you’re still living in it.”
I step aside so he can enter. He crosses the threshold and his eyes swing around the place. The couch and the living room, the open concept kitchen with the butcher block island.
A shadow crosses his expression and I wonder where his thoughts have traveled.
Is he seeing the space like the last time he was here? When he gave me divorce papers?
Or the morning after his bender, when it was trashed and filled with strangers?
Or before? When it was me and him and a fort at Christmastime?
I clear my throat and Mav shakes his head, as if clearing away his memories. “Want a coffee?”
“Sure.” He follows me into the kitchen.
I move toward the fancy espresso machine Derek purchased years ago. As I fix Mav a coffee, I feel his eyes on the space between my shoulder blades.
When I turn around, he’s seated at the island, one foot resting on the rung of the barstool. He looks casual, at ease, and familiar.
My heartbeat kicks up at the sight of him. Months ago, I could have crossed the kitchen, stood in between his legs, and dropped my mouth to his. He would have kissed me back instantly, his large hands cupping the backs of my thighs and sliding up toward my ass, squeezing and kneading and—
I drop my head, blushing.
We’re not married anymore. Are we even friends?
I approach the island and note the amusement in Mav’s eyes. I missed that look, too.
“What are you thinking about, Mckenna?” he teases.
My blush deepens and I snort. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“More than anything,” he admits in that suave way of his. Always so honest, never playing the mind games I once accused him of.
Maybe that was due to my own insecurities too?
“We should talk,” I reply sensibly.
Mav’s smirk widens. “We should.”
I arch an eyebrow, waiting for him to begin.
He takes a sip of his coffee, rolling his lips together before leaning forward on the kitchen island. “It’s been almost two months since…”
“We filed divorce papers?”
He sighs and straightens, nodding as he grips the back of his neck. “Yeah.”
“How’ve you been?”
“Good,” he replies. “And fucking miserable.” His eyes snap to mine and I note the regret in them. “I’ve been trying, Mckenna. Fucked off to Costa Rica to surf, get some sun, clear my head. I’m in therapy.”
“So am I.”
“Yeah? How’s it going?”
I take a sip of my coffee to gather my thoughts. But I’m honest with Mav. “Good days and bad. The day-to-day has been easier since Bran moved to Texas. I’m not searching for him on campus or nervous about studying in the library anymore. At least, not the way I was. But instead…”
“Instead?”
“I missed you, Maverick. More than I ever thought possible. After I signed those papers and you left…” I trail off, throwing out an arm.
“This house felt lonely. I felt isolated. I know I could talk to Allegra or Ivy or Nova. Hell, I could even call up Levi or your brother. My dad and Jeannie have been supportive of everything. But all I wanted was you. Anything good that happened in my day, I wanted you to be the first to know. When I would wake up after a nightmare, it was your arms I craved. I was wrong for putting so much pressure on you—”
“You didn’t,” he interjects, his mouth twisting. “I was wrong for going behind your back.”
“You were trying to protect me.”
“By keeping you in the dark.”
“I still needed you, Mav.”
“I’m sorry I let you down, Mckenna.”
I shake my head, feeling the backs of my eyes burn. He’s saying the words I craved months ago. And, by his expression, I know he means them too.
Too bad we had to fucking break, to burn our relationship to the ground, to get to this point.
“I let you down too, Maverick. I pushed you away,” I remind him.
“We both made mistakes.”
“Are you back now for…the band?” I ask weakly, my stomach tightening into knots. He can’t be back for me. There’s no way; it was Mav’s idea to divorce.
He wanted to let me go. He asked me for this.
Mav’s quiet for a long moment, his fingertips tapping a beat out against the end of the island. “I wanted to see you graduate law school.”
“It meant a lot to me that you were there.”
“Good. You were beautiful. I wasn’t sure if I was going to say hello, but then when I saw you…” He trails off before shifting his weight. “But I really came back for my brother.”
“Jameson?” I can’t hide the surprise from my tone. Fortunately, I can hide the way Mav’s truth twists my stomach in knots. Disappointment sticks to my ribs and I twist my torso, as if to dislodge it.
Of course he’s not here for me. I already knew that. Logically.
And yet, I hate how much I want him to declare that he’s here to win me back. To fight for me. For us.
“He and Amelia broke up.”
I push my feelings aside to focus on Mav. “Allegra told me that happens a lot.”
Mav snorts. “It does but…I think it’s different this time.”
I pause at the catch in his tone. “Are you going to tell him about your dad?”
He rears back, as if forgetting that he once told me the truth about him and Jameson not sharing a biological father. “Eventually. But I think he needs me right now so…”
“You’re back.”
“I am. And you’re…?”
I chuckle. “Here for now.”
He frowns. “Do you really want to move to California?”
I shrug. “I loved my time at UCLA.”
“Right.”
“But I never considered it as much as I have these past few weeks.” I bite my bottom lip, willing myself to be honest with him. “There’s nothing here for me anymore, Mav.”
He works a swallow, his expression severe.
“I came back to Boston for law school. And now, I’ve graduated and…” I shrug. “Nova lives in Tennessee. Allegra and Derek are between here and California, but they’re spending more time out west these days. Ivy’s accepted a job in upstate New York.”
“I’m here, Mckenna.”
“You’re my ex-husband.”
He hangs his head and swears softly. Lifting his face, he asks the question I desire but am too damn scared to trust. “What if I wasn’t?”
I flinch at the rawness of his expression. A lump grows in my throat and I swallow against it. “But you are.”
“I know that, and I can’t fucking stand it.”
“Why didn’t you fight for me? For us?” I ask the question that has kept me up at night for months.
“I tried.” His voice cracks. “I tried and in doing so…I fucking terrorized you. I’ll never forget the way you looked at me when I walked into that hospital room. By trying to protect you, I put you through even more pain. It was selfish.”
“Why didn’t you just talk to me?”
“I was scared of losing you. I was fucking terrified of you regressing into a shell of the woman you are. Of not eating or speaking or…I thought I was helping.”
“I know that your heart was in the right place.”
“It wasn’t enough.”
“But what if it is…now?” I toss out, desperate to be his again. To believe in us. To fight for what we once shared because I know I’ll never find it again. Not without Mav.
Mav’s eyes flare as he finishes his coffee. He sets the mug down with a thud. “What are you saying, Mckenna?”
I let out a shaky exhale, unsure of myself. Our conversation has gone in circles. A part of me wants Mav to want me back and another part doesn’t want to jump into something we’re not ready for. But I know that I want him in my life. “I’m saying that right now, I’m in Boston.”
He nods, tilting his head as if considering something. Then, he looks right at me. “Mckenna Byrne, will you have dinner with me Friday night?”
I bite my bottom lip to halt the smile that wants to cut across my face. Butterflies ascend from my stomach up into my throat, making me feel both nostalgic and emotional. “I’d love to.”
“I’ll pick you up at eight?”
“I’ll be ready.”
Mav reaches across the island and places a hand on mine. “I didn’t expect this. I wasn’t sure how seeing you would be. I wasn’t sure if you would even speak to me again. But I’m happy we’re here.”
I swipe my tongue across my bottom lip, my throat dry. “Me too. More than you know.”
He winks cheekily. “Trust me, beauty, I know.” Then, he stands from the barstool and walks around to my side, leaning down to kiss my cheek.
My eyelids drop shut as I breathe him in. Clean soap, pure sunshine, all Mav.
God, I missed this. I missed him.
But most of all, I missed the version of myself with him. The one who dove below waterfalls and sang karaoke. The woman who knew that if I fell apart, I had someone in my corner to catch me. The brave, honest, sincere version who didn’t cower or run away.
His kiss lingers on my cheek as he pulls back and I turn my head to face him. “Friday night.”
He grins. “At eight.” He walks backwards toward the front door to the brownstone. This time, when he turns and looks around the space, his expression is clear from shadows.
“Thanks for the coffee, beauty.” Mav opens the front door.
“Thanks for coming by.”
He chuckles. “Oh, you’ll be seeing me.”
The door closes and he’s gone.
I sit for a long minute, staring at the shut door as I try to make sense of his words.
Does he mean here in Boston? Does he mean Friday night?
Or does Maverick Tate have other ideas that I’m not yet privy to?
Ideas I have no business hoping for as much as I already am.