Don’t Mind If “I Do” by Everly Ashton

Twenty-Five

Nick

“Hey, man. Got a second?”

I turn around from the nurses’ station to find Ollie standing behind me. I’m a couple hours into my shift at the hospital. He must just be getting in for the day.

“Yeah, sure.” I nod for him to follow me down the hall where we’ll have more privacy.

“How’s married life?” he asks once we’re alone.

I think of having to endure watching Mazzy bend and stretch and sweat in what she deems gym wear for the past few days and the blue balls it’s giving me. “Easy peasy.”

He looks skeptical. “Really? You guys are getting along?”

I shrug. “Well enough. I’m trying not to be an asshole twenty-four seven.”

He chuckles. “How’s that working out?”

“You’d be surprised.”

He studies me for a moment. “Jemma asked if I could get Mazzy’s number from you. She and the girls are having wine night and wanted to invite her.”

I frown, thinking of Mazzy’s Meniere’s disease. But she’s a big girl, and if she says alcohol isn’t a factor for her, then so be it. “Yeah, sure, I’ll text it to you.”

“Great. And now that you’re being so cooperative, I won’t have to hold this over your head.”

I cross my arms. “What’s that?”

“Jemma talked to Marlowe and she can get you in next month’s issue of the magazine. You’re at the shelter next weekend, right?”

“That’s awesome, man. Thanks for making it happen. And yeah, I’m there next weekend.”

“All right. I’ll tell Marlowe to call you to figure it out.”

“Perfect.” I clamp a hand on Ollie’s shoulder. “You’re the best.”

“Yeah, remember that when I tell you this next thing.”

“That sounds ominous.” I rearrange my stethoscope around my neck and hold on to either end.

He sighs. “I know you don’t want me to say anything to Jemma about the situation”—I glance around to make sure no one is within earshot—“but now that she’s inviting Mazzy into the fold, I can’t keep it from her. If they become friends, it’ll affect her when this charade comes to an end. It’s different than her only meeting Mazzy for a few hours at your wedding.”

I push a hand through my hair. I know he’s right. I was a jerk for even asking him to lie to his fiancée in the first place. At the same time, I can’t afford for this to go sideways. “Sure thing, man. I’m sorry for forcing you to lie to her to begin with. I hope it doesn’t get you in too much trouble.”

He shrugs. “I think she’ll understand when I explain the backstory and both of your reasons for doing this, but if not, I’m sending her wrath your way.”

I chuckle. “Fair enough. Just Jemma though. I don’t need all her friends knowing too.”

He waves me off. “Got it. All right then, I need to head up to my office. I’ve got a full day.”

“Have a good one. And thanks again for getting me set up with Marlowe.”

“Don’t mention it. Listen… things are really going okay?”

I know what he’s really asking. Am I falling for Mazzy again? That’s Ollie’s biggest fear. “Don’t worry about me. I’ve got a handle on it.”

He nods slowly as though he’s not so sure, but he turns and heads in the direction of the elevators.

As I make my way back to the nurses’ station, Lucy passes me and ignores me completely. If nothing else, at least that part of the plan has worked.

* * *

It’s been a prettyquiet day in the ER. Normally I prefer a constant stream of patients, but I appreciate the odd slow day like this. It gives me a chance to catch my breath.

“Dr. Ryan?”

I look up from the computer screen where I’m updating a patient’s records.

“Your wife is here,” Lucy says in the voice of a scorned woman.

I can barely suppress my eye roll. “Be right there.”

God, that sounds foreign to my ears still. Your wife. Even more foreign is having one who would come see me at work.

I finish my notes and sign out on the computer, then head to the waiting room where Mazzy’s holding a canvas tote bag that says, Some groceries. Mostly Wine. I was surprised she’s here to begin with, but now I’m even more confused.

“Hey, everything okay?” I ask. I’m used to the smell of the hospital while I’m here, but the scent of her expensive perfume is a welcome change. And an alluring one, as much as I wish it weren’t.

“Yeah, everything’s fine. I know you’re probably busy, I just wanted to drop this off.” She holds out the tote bag with a proud smile.

“What is it?” I feel the line between my brows deepen as I take the handles of the bag and peek inside.

“Dinner.”

Inside are a few Tupperware containers I recognize as being my own. I look at her in question. “Are you trying to poison me?”

“NO! It’s all part of my ‘find what makes me happy’ project. I like food so much, and since eating’s not a job, I thought maybe I might enjoy cooking or baking, so I tried out a few recipes I found online. I figured you’re probably always eating takeout food while you’re working and maybe a homemade meal would be a nice change.”

Her thoughtfulness takes me back for a moment. It’s not that I didn’t know Mazzy can be a giving and thoughtful person—it’s one of the things I respected most about her. But it’s been a long time—maybe since before she left my life—since someone did something so thoughtful for me.

She mistakes my silence for something else. “If you don’t want it, I can take it back.” She reaches out.

I turn at my waist, so the bag is out of reach. “Not a chance. I’m going to enjoy this.”

A small smile creeps onto her face.

“I’m due for a break. Did you want to stick around and eat with me?” It seems the least I can do since she went to all this trouble.

Her small smile turns bigger. “That would be nice.”

“All right. Give me a few minutes to let the charge nurse know where I’m headed. I’ll be right back.”

I make sure things are handled before washing my hands and showing Mazzy the way to the cafeteria.

Once we’re seated, I ask, “What did you decide to make as your first shot at being a professional chef?”

She rolls her eyes. “I don’t want to be a chef, but I thought if I enjoyed cooking, maybe I could prepare meals for struggling families and drop them off.”

“Kind of like Meals on Wheels?” I pull the containers from the bag and set them on the table. She also included cutlery.

“Exactly.” She smiles across the table.

“You never answered me. What am I getting?”

“I tried to make salmon and risotto for dinner and brownies for dessert.”

I raise my eyebrows. “I’m impressed.” I pull the lid off the salmon and the risotto. It’s clear that something went wrong with the risotto—the rice is separating from the rest. “Did you already try these yourself?”

She shakes her head. “As soon as it was ready, I rushed over here so it wouldn’t get too cold.”

I nod and pick up my knife and fork, deciding to try the salmon first. I cut off a small piece and bring it to my mouth. The taste is okay, but the texture is dry and flaky.

“How is it?” She looks at me with wide, innocent eyes that remind me of when we were children and she’d look at me after doing something daredevilish like flipping into the pool.

Though I thought I’d revel in any opportunity to make her feel bad, my instinct to preserve her feelings surprises me. “It’s good. Good job.”

The smile that lights up her eyes makes bending the truth worth it. There’s no way she’s going to go about this new endeavor. She’s bred to do charity work.

“Now try the risotto.” Her hands rest in front of her lips in a prayer pose, tapping together in anticipation.

I scoop up some of the risotto with my fork and bring it to my mouth. Again, the taste is fine, a little bland, but the texture is off. I don’t know enough about cooking risotto to know what happened, but the separation of the rice is definitely throwing me. I nod and smile while I chew.

Mazzy looks pleased. “Can I try?”

Shit. She’s going to know I’m lying. “Don’t you have any left at home you can have? I’m starving.” I pile another forkful into my mouth as if I have some shot of eating all of it before she can get a bite.

Annoyance flashes in her eyes. “Jeez, Nick. I don’t have cooties.”

“Why’d you bring it here for me if you were just going to eat it?” I mumble before swallowing, wishing I had water to help move the salmon down my throat.

She huffs and leans back in her chair with her arms crossed. Damn it.

“Fine, here.” I put a piece of salmon on my fork and hold it over the table.

She uncrosses her arms and leans forward with her mouth open, wrapping her lips around the tongs of the fork and pulling the salmon off.

Fuck. That was so hot.

And why am I now imagining her mouth over my cock?

Except the part where she bit and chewed. I squirm in the plastic chair. I must need to get laid. It’s been a while.

You can’t, I remind myself. Get used to celibacy, you moron. For six months.

Mazzy screws up her face in disgust and draws me back to the present. “It’s so dry.” She chews and exaggerates swallowing as though it’s cardboard. “You said it was good. That’s terrible.”

I shrug and return my attention to the container, not wanting her to look too deeply into it.

“How was the risotto? For real?” she asks.

I finish chewing my salmon. “Honestly?”

She nods.

“Something’s off. The rice is separating from the rest. The texture isn’t right.”

She frowns and looks as though she’s trying to figure out what’s wrong.

“Regardless, I appreciate you bringing it here.”

But she’s still frowning.

“It’s not a big deal. It was your first try, and risotto isn’t an easy dish to make. If you really want to make the meal thing happen—”

She cringes.

“What?”

“Well, the meal thing would be nice but… I didn’t really enjoy cooking. It was stressful. Everything has to be timed perfectly and they use all these techniques that I had to look up because I didn’t know what they meant. I don’t think anything to do with food is my calling.”

I shrug. “Okay, well, now you know. Keep working your way down your list.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

After I’ve packed up the empty containers, we each take a brownie from the final container. Turns out the brownies are burnt on the bottom, but they’re not that bad. Edible at least.

“I saw that girl you were in the video with when I was waiting for you. She didn’t look very happy to see me,” Mazzy says. She’s keeping her voice light, but I sense the curiosity there.

“Lucy, yeah. She didn’t seem too impressed when she found out I was married.”

“Did you two ever…” Her eyes narrow.

I shake my head. “No. Never. I wouldn’t hook up with someone I worked with.”

She seems surprised. I’m not sure whether to take that as a compliment or an insult.

“Why do you look so surprised?” I ask.

“I just thought someone like you—”

“What exactly does that mean, someone like me?” Irritation fills my voice.

She rolls her eyes. “It means a smart, single, successful, fit, hot doctor. You know, pretty much what every woman would be happy to have?”

“Is that how you see me?” I raise an eyebrow.

She meets my gaze. “I think that’s how any heterosexual woman would see you.”

Her words hang in the air for a moment. It was a true compliment.

“What do you see when you look at me?” she asks.

“Regret.” My answer slips out before I stop myself. Her honesty rubbed off on me.

She blinks and maybe I’m crazy, but I swear her eyes look misty.

I have so much regret where Mazzy’s concerned. And while it’s been easy to blame her for everything all these years, I’m starting to wonder if maybe I was the problem the entire time.