Chapter 12
Mac
Mac had been dating Rachel for almost four weeks.
Four weeks of texts that made him smile like an idiot during practice. Three weeks of stolen kisses in library stacks and bookstore aisles. Three weeks of watching Rachel slowly, carefully, let him in.
And Mac wanted more. He wanted everything.
But right now, he wanted Rachel to meet his team. Officially. Not just casual run-ins at the rink, but as his—
Well. That was the question, wasn't it?
Were they dating? Yes. Were they exclusive? He hoped so. Were they official enough that he could introduce Rachel as his girlfriend?
Mac had no idea. And it was driving him insane.
His phone buzzed on the kitchen counter. The team group chat was, predictably, chaos.
Cole: So Rachel's coming to O'Brien's tonight, right? Team dinner? Ellie's excited to meet her properly.
Jamie: About time MacKenzie let us meet the mysterious librarian. I promise to be on my best behavior. (No guarantees.)
Luke: THIS IS SO EXCITING! Mac has a GIRLFRIEND!
Mac: She's not my… we haven't actually defined what we are yet.
Jamie: Dude. You've been on more than four dates. That's girlfriend territory.
Luke: YOU'VE BEEN ON FOUR DATES AND DIDN'T TELL US ABOUT ALL OF THEM???
Tyler: Statistically, four dates with the same person within three weeks indicates serious romantic interest and implied exclusivity.
Mac: Tyler, thank you for that very romantic assessment.
Tyler: You're welcome.
Cole: Mac, ignore them. But seriously, are you going to ask her? To make it official?
Mac stared at his phone. Was he going to ask Rachel to be his girlfriend? At a team dinner? In front of everyone?
That seemed like a terrible idea.
Or maybe the best idea.
He had no idea anymore.
Mac: Can we just have dinner without everyone making it weird?
Jamie: No.
Luke: Absolutely not.
Tyler: Unlikely.
Cole: We'll try. No promises.
Mac groaned and pocketed his phone. He checked his reflection in the bathroom mirror for the third time: dark blue button-up shirt, nice jeans, clean-shaven. Casual but put together. The kind of outfit that said I care but I'm not trying too hard.
Puck was curled in a perfect circle on the couch, his gray fur catching the afternoon light.
"Rachel's meeting the team tonight," Mac told him. "This is big, right? This feels big."
Puck opened one eye, then went back to sleep.
"You're right. I'm overthinking." Mac grabbed his keys. "She already went on more than four dates with me. That's progress. Major progress."
His phone buzzed. Rachel.
Rachel: Still on for 6.30 PM at O'Brien's? I'm nervous.
Mac's heart did that stupid fluttering thing it had been doing a lot lately.
Mac: Me too. But they're going to love you.
Rachel: What if they don't?
Mac: Then they have terrible judgment. But they won't. I promise.
Rachel: Okay. See you soon.
Mac: See you soon.
He pocketed his phone and headed for the door, trying not to think about how much this mattered.
Rachel had already met most of the team casually at the rink and around town. But this was different. This was "meet my team as the person I'm dating" official. This was "I want you to be part of my world" serious.
And if tonight went well, if Rachel felt comfortable with his chaos, if she could handle the noise and the questions and the inevitable teasing—
Then Mac was going to ask her something even bigger.
He was going to ask her to be his date to Cole and Ellie's wedding.
And maybe, just maybe, he'd ask her to make this thing between them official.
His girlfriend. His actual, real, official girlfriend.
The thought made him grin like an idiot all the way to the pub.