Don't Mind If I Do : A Fake Marriage Romantic Comedy

by Everly Ashton

  “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 pretty quiet 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 c
ontainer, 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.

  Twenty-Six

  Almost a decade ago…

  Mazzy

  I give myself one last look in the mirror and smooth my dress down my front. I’m wearing a sexy set of La Perla lingerie underneath my emerald-green dress, bought specifically for tonight. Nick once told me that he loved when I wore green because it set off the red in my strawberry-blonde hair. And tonight, my only goal is to please Nick.

  After years of flirting with the line between friends and lovers, we’re giving into temptation. He’s a resident now, so gone are the years of watching him parade around college parties with other women and pretending it didn’t bother me. He was never really wild during his college days and med school, but he certainly enjoyed female attention when and where he could get it—which was almost everywhere and pretty much any time.

  Everything came to a head last week when he stopped by before going into a shift at the hospital and we shared a kiss. It’s hard to believe that it was the first kiss we’ve shared since the night of my prom, but it felt life-changing. Neither of us could pretend any longer that there wasn’t something between us. And so we planned tonight—the first night we’d officially be in a romantic relationship.

  Every minute today has felt like an hour, and I’ve planned everything in meticulous detail. Nick should arrive in about a half an hour, and dinner will be delivered about an hour after that. I chose one of his favorite meals and paired it with a vintage bottle of wine because tonight is a night worth celebrating.

  I don’t have to pretend anymore that Nick Ryan isn’t anything more to me than a friend—I can tell him, show him that he’s been my everything for a long time.

  When I hear my phone ring, I rush from my master suite into the oversized living room of my downtown condo. I don’t want to miss the call in case it’s Nick telling me he’s late. But when I find my phone discarded on one of the couch cushions, it’s Ava’s name on the screen.

  “Hello,” I answer.

  “Are you freaking out?” It’s not unlike Ava to dive right into the conversation. She knows how much this night means to me.

  “Kind of.”

  “I can’t believe that after all these years, you two are finally getting together.”

  I sit on the couch. “It feels surreal. I almost can’t believe it.”

  “Believe it, girl. You’re gonna be boning that fine man later tonight.”

  We laugh in unison. “Oh my God, you’re the worst.”

  “I’m the best and you know it.” She laughs for another second, then her voice turns serious. “Really though, I know how long you’ve wanted this and I’m so excited for you. I haven’t seen you giddy like this in… well, probably never.”

  “It probably sounds stupid, but it feels like the culmination of a long road traveled. We’re both finally in a space where we can admit how we feel and be together.”

  “You have to call me as soon as he leaves in the morning and tell me everything that happened, everything he said and did.”

  I chuckle. “Okay, I promise.”

  “Good, now go make that man sorry he didn’t claim you years ago. You got this.”

  I smile though she can’t see me. Her support and excitement mean the world to me. “Thanks for the pep talk. I’ll be sure to call in the morning.”

  We hang up giggling like a pair of schoolgirls. I head into the kitchen to pour myself a glass of wine while I’m waiting. He’ll be here soon, and I could use something to take the edge off.

  Being nervous about seeing Nick feels stupid, but tonight will change the course of our relationship. That’s a big deal. I’ve been secretly pining for Nick since high school, and after tonight, it no longer has to be secret.

  I sip my wine as the minutes tick by, each one excruciatingly long. Especially once the time passes that Nick should have been here. I debate calling or texting him to see where he is, but that feels too pushy, so I wait patiently.

  The food arrives, signaling that Nick was supposed to be here an hour and a half ago, so I figure it’s time to text. After five minutes of second-guessing myself, I end up sending a message I hope will come across friendly and not pushy. Inquiring, not demanding.

  Hey! Food just arrived. You running late? Let me know how long you’ll be, and I’ll keep it warm in the oven. Can’t wait to see you. ;)

  An hour after the text has been sent, he still hasn’t arrived and hasn’t responded. Could something be wrong? Did he get held up at work?

  After much internal debate, I decide to call. I need to know he’s okay. But he doesn’t answer, so I send another text.

  Just want to make sure everything is okay. Text or call me.

  Hours go by and stupid me still has the dinner being kept warm in the oven. Tears burn in my eyes and I lie down on the couch, waiting. My heart refuses to acknowledge what my head already knows.

  Nick isn’t coming.

  Twenty-Seven

  Mazzy

  I don’t know what to say as the word regret hangs between us like a lingering fog.

  I might not know what to say, but I know exactly what he means because I feel the same. So many “if onlys” ran through my head during our time apart. But there’s no sense dwelling on them because
what’s done is done.

  “I know what you mean.” I put the lid on the brownie container and put it back into the bag with the other two containers.

  It was sweet of Nick to lie to me about my cooking to spare my feelings. I’m surprised he bothered though, and I’m starting to wonder if maybe he’s warming to me. We can never go back to how we were but having him not hate my guts is progress.

  I hook the bag on the back of my chair. “Anyway, there’s something I wanted to ask you.”

  “Ah, the real reason you did this.” His smirk says he’s kidding, so I don’t bother disputing his claim.

  “I have an event next Friday night in the city. Will you join me?”

  While I know Nick would likely rather be anywhere than at an event with a bunch of people who used to be in his circle, I also know that he knows how much it will help his cause to be photographed with me as my new husband.

  Selfishly, I don’t want to go alone. I’ve already endured the “where’s her husband” whispers with my first marriage, and I don’t plan on reliving that.

  “What’s the event for?” he asks with zero enthusiasm.

  “It’s a fundraiser for diabetes.”

  “Black tie?”

  I nod. “Of course.”

  He sighs. “Sure, yeah. I’m not on shift. No promises I won’t get drunk to get through the night though.”

  I chuckle. “Deal.”

  “All right, well, I have to get back to the ER. Thanks again for bringing this over.”

  I cringe. “Sorry it didn’t taste better. I guess cooking looks like more fun on TV than it is in real life.”

  He laughs. That sound probably shouldn’t make me smile so hard, but it does nonetheless. There was a time I didn’t think I’d ever hear that sound pointed at me again. We both stand, and I grab my purse and the tote bag off the back of the chair.

  “Oh, heads up. Jemma’s going to call you about wine night with her friends. I texted your number to Ollie to pass on to her.”