13
Mac
O'Brien's Pub occupied a brick building on the corner of Main and Third, its weathered wooden sign swinging slightly in the early April breeze. The place smelled like grilled meat and beer and the kind of comfortable worn-in history that only decades of service could create. It was owned by Patrick O'Brien, a former semi-pro player who'd retired to Evergreen Cove and decided the town needed a proper hockey pub.
Mac arrived at 6:25 PM, exactly five minutes early because habits were habits. Even nervous habits. The team had claimed their usual large table in the back corner; the one with the view of the vintage hockey photos covering the walls and enough space for their inevitable loudness.
Cole and Ellie were already there, sitting close together in that effortless way perfect couples had, where they seemed to occupy the same space without trying. Jamie was at the head of the table doing what Jamie did best: organizing. He had menus arranged by seat, drink preferences memorized, and was probably planning the optimal food order for maximum efficiency.
Luke was gesturing wildly while telling some story to Tyler, who looked half-asleep but was nodding politely.
Cole spotted Mac first. "MacKenzie! You look nervous."
"Thank you? I'm not nervous," Mac lied, sliding into the seat they'd left empty for him, the one with a clear view of the door.
"You're definitely nervous," Jamie observed without looking up from his menu arrangement. "You've flipped back your hair twice since you sat down."
"Three times," Tyler corrected.
"I hate all of you," Mac muttered.
Ellie smiled warmly, her hand resting on Cole's arm. "Don't listen to them. We're excited to meet Rachel properly. Sophie's been telling me all about your dates."
"Sophie has a big mouth," Mac said, but he was smiling.
"Sophie has all the good gossip," Ellie corrected. "And apparently you've been very sweet. Ice skating? The bookstore? Mac, that's adorable."
Jamie looked up with interest. "Wait, you took her ice skating and didn't tell us? MacKenzie, that's prime date material. Did you do the whole 'hold her from behind' thing?"
Mac's cheeks heated. "Maybe."
"MAYBE?" Luke practically shouted. "That's like, the most romantic thing ever! Did she swoon?"
"She didn't swoon. She fell on top of me."
The table erupted in laughter.
"That's even better," Cole said, grinning. "Physical comedy. Very humanizing."
"I'm so glad my humiliation entertains you all."
"It really does," Jamie agreed cheerfully. "So. Tonight. Are you going to ask her?"
Mac's stomach tightened. "Ask her what?"
"To be your girlfriend, genius. Make it official. Bring her to the wedding?" Jamie leaned forward. "You've been dating for four weeks. You're texting constantly. Time to define the relationship."
"What if it's too soon?"
"What if it's not?" Cole countered. "Mac, you're clearly into her. She's clearly into you. What are you waiting for?"
"I don't want to push too hard. She's—" Mac stopped, not sure how much to share. "She's been hurt before. Badly. I'm trying to let her set the pace."
Ellie's expression softened. "That's very considerate. But Mac, at some point, you have to tell her what you want too. Relationships are about both people communicating."
"I know. I just—" Mac checked his phone again. 6:28 PM. Rachel would be here any minute. "I don't want to mess this up."
"Then don't mess it up," Tyler said flatly. "Statistical analysis suggests direct communication increases relationship satisfaction by forty-seven percent."
