Chapter 21 - Mav
TWENTY-ONE
MAV
“You haven’t mentioned anything about a nursery,” I say to Mckenna over dinner later that week. “Your dad and Jeannie want to buy the baby’s furniture and Jeannie has been sending me her Pinterest board updates all week.”
Mckenna snorts but I know she likes witnessing the close relationship I’ve developed with Brian and Jeannie.
Both were over the moon to learn our happy news, as was my mom and Nico.
The jury is still out on Mckenna’s mom—she’s torn between the horror of being a young grandmother and the joy of having someone call her Glammy. It’s an interesting dilemma.
Mckenna twirls spaghetti around the tines of her fork and bites her bottom lip.
“What?” I press. What isn’t she telling me?
“I wasn’t sure how…” She trails off before placing down her fork and folding her hands together on the edge of the table. “We haven’t really had a chance to talk, and I didn’t want to be presumptuous.”
“You’re my wife, Mckenna. Carrying my baby. Presume away.”
She smiles but her eyes remain serious. Cautious. “Do you want to move in together? I mean, officially? And are we doing that here or next door?” She bites that lip again and my heart sinks as I realize she needs the words.
Of course she does.
In my mind, we were moving ahead, but my beauty needs me to spell it out for her.
I chuckle. “This wasn’t how I was going to do this but your asking me these questions proves I should have done so already.”
“Do what?”
“Make my grand gesture.”
She lifts her eyebrows. “Your grand gesture?”
“Yep.” I dig into the pocket of my shorts and grasp the key ring. Then, I place it into Mckenna’s hand. “This belongs to you.”
She rears back, her eyebrows knitting. “What? What do you mean?”
I smirk. “Don’t say I never gave you anything worthwhile.”
She sobers. “I would never.”
“I know,” I laugh. “That was my poor attempt at a joke. Beauty, the brownstone next door is your home. Not mine,” I explain. “The deed is in your name. Only your name.”
Her mouth drops open and her eyes shine with emotions. “Maverick, I don’t know what to say.”
“Tell me I can move in,” I quip, smirking. “If you’re ready, if you want me to, because I sure as hell want to raise our baby together.”
A tear spills onto her cheek and she sniffles, then laughs. “It’s the hormones.”
“I know.” I move to her side of the table and kneel beside her chair. “Tell me how you want to decorate the nursery,” I continue. “And if we need a swimming pool or a swing set in the backyard.”
She sobs now, disbelief and joy welling in her eyes.
“Tell me we’re a family and this is for real,” I plead.
Mckenna stands from her chair and I push to my feet. She throws her arms around my waist and buries her face in my chest. I wrap her in my arms and hold her as she half sobs, half laughs.
She pulls back to wipe a hand across her face. “I can’t believe you bought me a house. All this time, I thought you would invite me to move in and instead…”
“Can I move in?”
“Of course. We’re a family, Mav.”
“We are, love.” I brush my fingers along the line of her jaw, lowering my lips to hers. “And our baby will always come first.”
“Always,” she promises, her eyes holding mine. And then, she beams. “I have so many vision boards for the nursery. I’ll have to talk to Jeannie.”
I grin. “I was wondering why you hadn’t brought it up.”
“Well, it’s still early.” She glances down at her flat stomach. “I didn’t want to jinx anything.”
“You’re not.”
“And the case with Bran is still uncertain. It’s just hanging over our heads.”
“It will get sorted. He’ll be dealt with. And we won’t stop living our lives in the meantime,” I reply, my tone even but firm.
“You’re right.”
“Say that again.”
She rolls her eyes. “I want to turn that little corner room next to the bathroom into the nursery. Unless you want it as an office?”
I laugh. “I don’t need an office. Let’s make it our nursery.”
“We don’t know if we’re having a baby boy or girl,” she says. “It’s still too early.”
“We can go with a gender-neutral theme.”
She pulls in a breath. “I want to find out the sex of the baby.”
“Then we find out the sex of the baby.”
“Really? Is that what you want?” she asks, her fingers toying with the hem of my shirt.
“Beauty, when are you going to realize that all I want is to see you smile? I want whatever you want. We’ll find out the baby’s sex and create the most perfect nursery.”
“I still think that should be gender neutral.”
I chuckle. “Great.” I kiss the top of her head.
Mckenna wraps her arms around my waist and we stand like that, rocking gently, for a long moment.
“You bought me a home,” she breathes. “But my home is you, Mav.”
We stare at various shades of yellow—limoncello, golden hour, sunbeam, daffodil—swathed across the wall when the call comes through.
Mckenna pulls her phone from the back pocket of her cutoff jeans and freezes. “It’s Laura.”
“What? Answer it.”
She presses the phone to her ear. “Hi, Laura.”
Mckenna’s posture straightens and her mouth drops open.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” I move closer to my beauty, reaching out a hand.
She doesn’t shake off my touch, but she doesn’t answer my questions either. Her eyes meet mine, wide and bewildered. She clenches the phone tighter. “When?” Her voice cracks. “You’re sure?”
“Tell me,” I plead.
“I can’t believe it. I can’t, that’s, wow. Yeah, okay. That’s fine. We’ll be here. Call anytime. Okay, thanks.” She disconnects the call and places her cell phone in my hand.
“Mckenna.”
“You’re never going to believe this,” she says, half breathless with the news. Emotions cross her face, her eyes practically dancing.
“What is it?” I murmur, too nervous to feel hopeful when Mckenna’s expression is telling me I should feel joy. But how many times has the other shoe dropped? “Beauty?”
“Two women have come forward,” she says, her eyes dimming to show the pain that the realization causes. “They’re sisters.”
“Two women?”
She rolls her lips together, clutching at my forearms. “They were the twin daughters of the headmaster at the boarding school Bran attended in Massachusetts. They’re about three years younger than me.
Apparently, their father tried to cover things up and made a deal with Bran’s father to keep the situation quiet.
He didn’t want his daughters to suffer in the media and he also didn’t want to tarnish the reputation of the school. ”
“Jesus,” I swear. Was a father more concerned about his job than his daughters’ well-being?
I look at Mckenna’s stomach, at the little wonder growing there, and the lump that forms in my throat is painful. I already love our baby so damn much and I’ve never met them.
“The two women have come forward and want to tell their story. They were horrified to learn about me and knowing that there was another woman hurt by Bran pushed them to file charges.”
“What did Laura say?”
“She’s about to speak with Rob and then, she’ll call us to explain what will most likely happen next. She’ll walk us through the various scenarios.”
“Will there be a trial?” I’m conflicted at the thought. On one hand, I want Mckenna to enjoy the full closure of Bran being convicted after a trial. On the other hand, I hate the idea of Mckenna reliving her trauma aloud, in front of a room full of strangers.
But that’s not my call to make. Of course, I’ll support her through whatever comes next. I’ll play this any way she wants. I just want her to have closure with the outcome.
“I don’t know. I don’t know anything yet.”
“Wow. Two women.” I tug Mckenna closer and she steps into my embrace. I hold her for a long moment, my eyes still glued to the yellow paint.
“Those poor women.”
“Yeah.”
“But the chances of a more severe sentencing have improved. Bran could go to prison for a long, long time.”
“Yeah,” I agree, my mind reeling.
I hate the uncertainty that continues to wrap around Mckenna and me. No matter how many steps forward we take in our relationship—staying married, having a baby, moving in together—Bran’s presence, the trauma he caused, continues to loom.
I blow out a sigh and hold Mckenna tighter.