Chapter 7
Mac
Mac changed his shirt for the fourth time.
Too casual. Too formal. Too try-hard. Too... everything.
Casual but clean. Not trying too hard but showing he cared.
Puck, his gray cat, watched from his perch on the bed with the kind of feline judgment that suggested he found his entire existence amusing and slightly pathetic.
"Don't look at me like that," Mac told him, pulling on the shirt and checking his reflection. "This is important."
Puck yawned, showing all his teeth, then proceeded to groom his paw with elaborate disinterest.
"You're right. I'm overthinking." Mac checked his reflection one more time. Hair: acceptable, still slightly damp from his shower. Shirt: fine, fit well across the shoulders. Face: terrified but presentable. "It's coffee. Two people having a conversation. I can do this."
His phone buzzed on the dresser. The team group chat.
Cole: Good luck today. Be yourself. Ask questions. Listen more than you talk.
Jamie: Don't talk about hockey the entire time. I know that's hard for you but please try.
Luke: BE CONFIDENT! Women love confidence! But not too confident! That's arrogant! Find the middle ground!
Coach: Show up five minutes early. That's respect. And don't fidget.
Mac smiled despite his nerves. His team had his back, even if their advice was slightly contradictory.
He grabbed his jacket, the good one, not his everyday one, and headed out, trying not to think about all the ways this could go wrong.
Sophie's Café sat on the corner of Main and Oak, its windows already fogged slightly from the warmth inside contrasting with the cold March afternoon.
Mac arrived at 1:55 PM, exactly five minutes early as instructed, and immediately second-guessed his choice of table three times before settling on a corner spot with good lighting where they could talk without the whole town listening in.
The café was moderately busy with the Saturday afternoon crowd, couples lingering over late lunch, a few people working on laptops, Mrs. Britton from the store meeting with friends.
Soft indie music played from the speakers, mixing with the hiss of the espresso machine and the low murmur of conversation.
Sophie appeared almost immediately, as if she'd been waiting for him. Knowing Sophie, she probably had been.
"MacKenzie. Early. Good man." She set down two menus with a knowing smile. "Nervous?"
"Is it that obvious?"
"You've checked your phone six times in thirty seconds, and you've rearranged the salt and pepper shakers twice."
Mac forced himself to put his phone in his pocket and leave the condiments alone. "I want this to go well."
"It will. Rachel's nervous too, you know. So be kind and patient. You're good at those things."
"Right. Okay. I can do that." Mac took a breath. "What if I say something stupid?"
"You probably will. But that's okay. You said plenty of stupid things yesterday and she still said yes." Sophie squeezed his shoulder. "Now I'm going to leave you alone before Rachel gets here and thinks I'm hovering."
Mac nodded, watching Sophie disappear behind the counter. He forced himself to breathe normally. To not check his phone again. To not rearrange anything else on the table.
At exactly 2:00 PM, the café door opened.
Rachel walked in, and Mac's heart forgot how to function properly.
She looked beautiful. Different from yesterday, her hair was down, falling in soft waves around her shoulders instead of pulled back in her usual bun.
She wore a soft pink sweater that looked impossibly soft and made her skin glow, paired with dark jeans and boots.
Nervous energy radiated off her as she scanned the café, her eyes searching.
Mac stood, probably too quickly, and waved. Smooth, MacKenzie. Very smooth.
Rachel saw him and smiled, small, uncertain, but real. She crossed to the table, weaving between other patrons, and Mac realized his palms were sweating.
"Hi," Mac said. His voice came out slightly strangled, like he'd forgotten how to use it properly.
"Hi." Rachel slid into the seat across from him, setting her purse on the chair beside her. "You're early."
"Coach Davies says showing up early is respect. I'm respectful. Very respectful. Probably too respectful. I'm—" Mac stopped himself. "I'm talking too much."
Rachel's smile widened, some of the tension leaving her shoulders. "You are. But it's okay."
Sophie appeared with her notepad, her timing impeccable as always. "Rachel! So good to see you. Your usual?"
"Please. Thank you, Sophie."
Sophie turned to Mac, one eyebrow raised. "And for you?"
"Black coffee, and, whatever you recommend for food. I trust you."
"Trust-food and coffees coming right up." Sophie disappeared with an encouraging wink at Mac that Rachel definitely saw but politely pretended not to notice.
And then they were alone.
Well, not alone, they were in a café full of people. But it felt alone, like the rest of the world had suddenly gotten very distant and quiet.
Mac scrambled for something to say. Don't talk about hockey, Jamie had said. But hockey was his life. What else was there?
Books. Rachel loved books. He could ask about books. That was safe.
"So," Mac started, leaning forward slightly. "What are you reading right now?"
Rachel's expression brightened immediately, some of her guardedness melting away. "Right now? Three books, actually. I'm a mood reader. I keep several going at once depending on how I'm feeling."
"Three at once?" Mac blinked. "How do you keep track of all the plots?"
"It's not that hard when they're different genres.
I've got a mystery, the new Louise Penny, for when I want something engaging.
A rom-com for when I want something comforting.
And I'm rereading Pride and Prejudice because—" She paused, her cheeks flushing slightly.
"Because it's my comfort read. I've read it about… twenty times."
"Twenty times?" Mac couldn't hide his surprise. "The same book?"
"It's a very good book." Rachel dropped her eyes. "I know that probably sounds boring—"
"It doesn't," Mac interrupted. "It sounds like you found something you love and you keep going back to it. That's not boring. That's... loyal. Dedicated. Those are good things."
Surprise flickering across her face. "Most people think it's weird to reread books. They always ask why I don't read something new."
"I rewatch the same hockey games," Mac admitted. "Stanley Cup finals from 2010? I've probably seen it fifty times. If I enjoyed it once, why not enjoy it again?" He leaned forward slightly. "Tell me about it. Why that book?"
"You really want to know?"
"I really do."
Rachel studied him, as if trying to determine if he was sincere or being polite. Whatever she saw in his expression must have satisfied her because she started talking, her whole demeanor shifting as she spoke.
"It's about second chances. About people misjudging each other at first and then realizing they were wrong.
About love that grows from understanding and respect rather than instant attraction.
And Elizabeth Bennet is brave and smart and doesn't let anyone tell her what to do or define who she should be. I admire that about her."
Mac listened, fascinated. Not necessarily by the book, he'd never read it, classic literature had never been his thing, but by the way Rachel's whole face lit up when she talked about something she loved. Her eyes got brighter. Her hands moved as she talked. She became less guarded, more animated.
"You should read it," Rachel said, then immediately backtracked. "I mean, if you want. No pressure. I know not everyone likes classic literature. It can be slow-paced if you're used to more modern writing."
"I'd like to. If you recommend it, it must be good."
"Really?"
"Really. Although fair warning. I'm a slow reader when it’s not mystery. Will you judge me if it takes me a month or two to finish it?"
"I would never judge someone for reading, no matter how long it takes them." Rachel's smile was more genuine now. "Although fair warning of my own: if you tell me you don't like Mr. Darcy, I might have to end this date early."
"Who's Mr. Darcy?"
"The love interest. He's proud and standoffish at first, but actually kind and good underneath all the pride. He just... doesn't know how to show it properly."
"Sounds complicated."
"The best characters always are. People are complicated. Books that pretend they're not are boring."
Sophie returned with their drinks, Rachel's usual latte with what looked like an elaborate leaf design in the foam, Mac's black coffee, and a plate of pastries that definitely hadn't been on the menu. "On the house," Sophie said with a smile. "Enjoy, you two."
Then they talked. Really talked.
Mac learned that Rachel was a speed reader, that her cat was named Mr. Darcy, "after the character, obviously", and was orange, judgmental, and hated everyone except her.
That she'd only been in Evergreen Cove for six months but already loved the library, loved the quiet, loved helping people find exactly the right book even when they didn't know what they needed.
"It's like matchmaking," Rachel explained, her hands wrapped around her coffee mug.
"Someone comes in saying they want a mystery, but what they really want is an escape from their stressful job.
So I don't give them a dark thriller. I give them a cozy mystery with a cat and a bookshop owner. Something comforting."
"That's really thoughtful," Mac said. "I never thought about it like that."
"Most people don't. They think librarians just check out books and shush people."
Rachel learned that Mac's mother had died in childbirth, that his father had raised him alone in their house by the water. That his dad was a fisherman and hunter.
"Does he come to your games?" Rachel asked.
"Every home game. Sits in the same seat. Never says much about it, but..." Mac smiled. "He's proud. I can tell. Even if he shows it by just showing up."
"That's sweet."