Wreck the Halls

“I don’t want to have to kill you, man,” Beat said with mock cheerfulness. “But I will.”

Vance chuckled. “Relax. Anyone witnessing the last ten minutes of Belody knows I don’t have a snowball’s chance in hell. But. Speaking of snow.” Vance elbowed each of them in the ribs, in turn. “While you two were mooning at each other over here like star-crossed lovers, we made friends with Melody’s coworker nerds and decided that we weren’t done quite yet with friendly, low-stakes competition for the evening.” He paused for dramatic effect. “That’s right, my friends. We’re having a snowball fight in Prospect Park. Right now. It’s on. Because we’re drunk adults and that’s the only excuse we need.”





Chapter Twenty-Four




Another hour passed before they managed to extricate themselves from the bar, which they accomplished by Vance creating a diversion—aka juggling shot glasses—while Beat and Melody snuck out the rear entrance. By then, Melody’s coworkers and Beat’s friends were the kind of drunk where numbers were being exchanged and joint vacations were being planned. It was the good kind of drunk. The holiday drunk where the snowfall outside and the glow of lights on stoops and inside of shop windows makes everything surreal and trimmed with magic.

Beat walked beside Melody on the sidewalk, his hands shoved into the pockets of his overcoat so he wouldn’t reach for her hand, the voices of their friends carrying back through the winter wind like a memory in the making.

Park Slope was winding down for the night, but revelers still reveled in the bistros and taverns they passed on the way to the park. Ubers idled at curbs, impatiently waiting for their fares to exit the establishments. A snowplow roared past, spitting out salt onto the streets to keep the snow from making the asphalt slick. Josh Groban’s voice drifted out of an apartment window, serenading the street—and Melody . . .

Her cheeks and the tip of her nose, red from the cold, her bangs peeking out from beneath the edge of her multicolored beanie, smiling at the antics of their combined friend groups . . . well, she was the most beautiful moment of Beat’s life. Perfect was just out of reach for myriad reasons, but he would savor this—savor her—because tonight was the closest he’d ever come. Escorting his best friend to a snowball fight, falling in love with her more with every step they took toward the park.

“If it’s your friends versus mine,” Melody mused aloud, “I guess that puts us on opposite teams. We’re enemies this night, Dawkins. We shouldn’t even be speaking right now.”

He laughed. “I’ve had enough of that over the last two days.”

The color of her cheeks deepened—not from the cold, this time. He really needed to stop voicing every goddamn sentiment that came to mind, but he was taking an odd kind of pleasure from her stunned reactions. That’s right. This is how I feel about you. Restraining himself from having physical contact with her was hard enough, he couldn’t seem to quell the honesty, too.

“What did you do during our break?” she asked, after a moment, voice softer than before.

“Worked. A lot. Went to the gym. Stopped by to see my mother. She’s building you a shrine—it should be finished by Valentine’s Day.”

Melody stopped walking. “What?”

He halted, too. Faced her. “My mother. She adores you.”

A knowing eyebrow raised. “Because I told Trina to go suck an egg?”

“I’m sure that didn’t hurt, but it’s more just . . . you. It’s you. For everyone.” For the love of God, pull yourself together. “She’s debating between hiring an Italian or French chef when you come over for dinner. Do you prefer spaghetti or beignets?”

“That’s like asking me to choose a favorite child. I simply cannot.”

“You’re a good mother.”

“Thank you,” she breathed, sweeping a dramatic hand to her chest.

They started walking again, each of them fighting a smile.

“Speaking of motherhood, do you want children someday?” Beat asked, despite telling himself that he shouldn’t. Her answer could very well torture him for the rest of his life. Unfortunately, he really wanted to know. He wanted to know every damn thing about her. More than anyone ever had. Or ever would.

“It might be selfish not to bear at least one child,” she said, a teasing half smile playing on her lips. “What if my mother’s musical talent skipped a generation, like the red hair gene, and I’m destined to raise the next Adele?” Melody elbowed him in the side. “Same goes for you.”

“You think I could have a mini Mick Jagger on deck?”

“That’s the thing. It’s a crapshoot.” She shivered. “You might accidentally end up with a scientist or something.”

“The horror.”

She went on, “I used to be positive that I didn’t want kids. I was dead set against it. What if I was having a baby just so I could be a better parent than Trina? That doesn’t seem like a good enough reason to bring an entire human into the world.” She exhaled, causing white vapor to dance in front of her mouth. “But I think it’s good to be open to all possibilities, no matter how daunting. Sort of like this live stream.” They both looked over their shoulders at the camera trailing them for an extended beat. “Maybe I’ll never have children and that’s okay. There are enough of them in Park Slope alone to keep the human race going. But I don’t want to be closed off to the idea. What feels wrong one day might feel right the next.”

Beat absorbed every word of that—and he couldn’t help applying it to himself. The pattern of behavior he’d adopted at sixteen was no longer right for him, was it? No. Refusing to let anyone in was hurting his relationships now, including the most important one. His relationship with Melody. Could he stop feeling guilty for having so many advantages? That change seemed huge and impossible, but for the first time, he allowed himself to imagine what it would be like to stop punishing himself, to let himself open up and trust those closest to him—especially Melody—and he was surprised to find that his step felt momentarily lighter.

Had he reached a turning point?

Melody coming into his life was causing him to question everything. As her presence would probably do for any man worth a damn. But she deserved so much more than any man. She deserved the best. And he was nowhere near the best. Could he get there, though?

“What about you?” Melody asked, reaching for his hand to step over a patch of ice. He took it, helped her over the frozen puddle, and kept it securely in his, because holding her hand made breathing easier. “I think you’d be a really good dad.”

“Do you?”

Melody nodded. “Kids just want to feel safe and . . .” She shrugged. “When you’re around, it feels like nothing can go wrong. Or if something does go wrong, you’ll be the one to help fix it.” He desperately wanted her to look at him after she gave him that incredible compliment, but she didn’t. “You have serious dad energy.”