20. Mav
TWENTY
MAV
She was withdrawn for the remainder of dinner and spent the ride home staring out the SUV window.
Alfred tosses me questioning glances, but I ignore them since I don’t have an answer. I don’t know what transpired between Allegra and Mckenna in the bathroom. When they emerged, Mckenna had it together enough to go through the motions.
To sit politely and order dinner. To smile when someone told a joke, to nod when someone asked her a question, to pick up her wine and sip at appropriately spaced intervals.
She looked the part. The perfect girlfriend. Unblemished and innocent and sweet. Gentle and understanding and dull as fuck.
But hell, I miss her fire. Her energy and her sass. That smart mouth and backbone that peeks through when I least expect it.
This watered-down version of Mckenna terrifies me more than any shit with Branson Burton.
We arrive back at the brownstone and bid Alfred good night.
As soon as we enter the home, Mckenna beelines for the stairs.
“Wait,” I say, not wanting to end the night like this. Apart, with a wall between us.
To think, our morning started so well. Was it just hours ago that we traded secrets and vulnerabilities at the kitchen island?
Now, I want to clear the air. I want reassurance that she’s okay.
I’m starving for the backstory of who the fuck Branson Burton is to her.
She turns slowly. Her expression is guarded, but her eyes meet mine.
“What do you want to know?” she sighs. She sounds tired and emotionally drained.
I arch an eyebrow and cross my arms over my chest. “Who the fuck is he?”
Mckenna sighs again and runs a hand through her hair. “Bran?”
Bran . Not Branson. A nickname. “Yeah,” I snap. “Who is he? Why the hell does he have a nickname?”
Mckenna tosses out a hand. “A guy in my law school.” She shakes her head. “And he doesn’t have a nickname. Everyone calls him Bran. And I met him my first day of law school. We sat next to each other in Constitutional Law. Burton, Byrne.” She points to her chest, indicating the class must have sat in alphabetical order. Fucking weird but whatever.
“And?”
“And…nothing.” She shrugs. “I don’t know.”
“Mckenna, are you fucking with me? Your reaction at dinner, that shit wasn’t nothing.”
She closes her eyes for a long beat, inhaling as if searching for patience. Her eyes open, dull, devoid of their usual sparkle. “It’s complicated.”
“I figured.” Something happened between them. Did they date? Did he break her heart? Did he hurt her?
My anger spikes at the thought and my hands clench into fists.
“It’s fine.”
“It’s not,” I counter, growing more disturbed by her avoidance of the topic.
She shakes her head. “Just let it go, Mav. I promise Bran won’t ruin whatever this is.” She gestures between us. “Your reputation won’t take a hit because of him.”
My molars click together, and my jaw tightens at her insinuation. “You think that’s what I’m worried about? My reputation?”
Her eyes widen in surprise. “Of course. What else would you be worried about?”
Her meaning is crystal clear. Not her. Why the hell would I be concerned about her? She’s not my real girlfriend; hell, we aren’t even real friends. Even though I’m trying. Even though she’s trying. At the end of the day, this is a mutually beneficial arrangement. A sham relationship.
“Nothing,” I bite out, disappointment coating my tongue.
“Exactly.” She sounds resigned. Dipping her head, she adds, “Good night, Mav.”
I watch her climb the stairs and hear her bedroom door close.
Heaving out a sigh, I move to the kitchen and open my laptop. Pulling up a search engine, I type out Branson Burton.
And fucking despise every piece of information I learn about the politician’s son. It seems the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. I already know Bran Burton will be a more significant complication than Mckenna thinks.
Picking up the phone, I deliberate on who to call. Eventually, I dial Aiden.
I hate that he has a connection with Mckenna—and I intend to get to the bottom of it. But right now, that connection, coupled with Aiden’s legal skills and network, is my best step forward to securing answers.
He picks up on the first ring.“What’s up, Tate?”
“I need your help with something.”
“Shoot.”
“First, I need to know if there’s something going on—or was there ever something going on—between you and Mckenna?”
Aiden scoffs. “I was wondering when you’d call.”
He’s quiet for a few beats and the silence eats at me, conjuring awful images of Aiden and Mckenna out for dinner, laughing, sharing a kiss. Fuck. Did they date?
“She’s a good woman, Mav,” he says finally.
“Tell me something I don’t know,” I spit back.
“You know there’s nothing romantic going on between Mckenna and me. I admire and respect her. We’ve had a few conversations about her career since she wants to pursue entertainment law and I’ve offered to help her and give some guidance about her next steps.”
“She does?” Why didn’t I know that?
“Get to know her, Maverick. She may surprise you.”
She already has. But I don’t voice that.
Aiden sighs heavily. “We’re friends, Mav. It’s strictly platonic and it always has been. Now I’m your band’s lawyer and I will always work to secure your best professional interests. But if you screw over Kenny, I’m gonna let you fucking have it.”
I crack a grin, knowing he’s being honest. This is the type of devotion Mckenna Byrne inspires in people—loyalty, admiration, sincerity. Hell, my brother Jameson has told me as much.
“Alright,” I mutter, letting him know I believe him.
“Now, what do you need?”
“I need info on a guy. His name is Bran. Branson Burton.”