Protecting What's Mine(34)

Ellen waved her comment away. “That’s mostly just good fun. He’s not a misogynistic womanizer. He just loves women and dates them, serially and monogamously without any intentions to settle down. I mean, who can blame him? I settled down, and look at my life. I’ve got two kids who don’t listen to me, a husband who thinks I’m a laundry service, and my minivan smells like sports equipment and feet.” She leaned in conspiratorially. “Sometimes I wish I would have kept right on dating Linc.”

It was Mack’s turn to lean in. “You dated Linc?”

This was insider information she wasn’t sure she wanted.

Ellen fluffed her shoulder-length auburn hair. “It was ten years and twenty-nine pounds ago. We went out a few times before I met Barry. He’s got a way with women. You know?”

“He certainly does.” A reluctant smile tugged at the corners of Mack’s mouth. “Why did you stop seeing each other?” Great. Now she was prying into a patient’s personal life. Benevolence was rubbing off on her already.

Was she going to start asking trauma patients what their tattoos meant now?

Ellen shrugged. “Why does anyone stop seeing a beautiful firefighter?”

“Ah. The schedule,” Mack guessed. She understood that to “normal” people, the on-call shifts, long hours, and physical danger didn’t make a lot of sense. But she also knew exactly why some were called to those professions.

“Life-and-death jobs aren’t exactly conducive to family life,” Ellen agreed. “I was ready for kids and a house and a husband who would be around on weekends. Linc’s first love is his job. It was as amicable as splits get. I still get to wink at him in the produce department every once in a while.”

It sounded a lot like Mack’s splits. Easy. No strings. No harm, no foul.

“Has he ever been serious about anyone?” Mack asked.

Ellen shook her head with a giggle. “Linc doesn’t have a serious bone in his body. He’s fun. You know? If he’s sending you flowers, you should go for it. No one has ever regretted a fling with Chief Sexy Pants.”

Fun.

Would it really hurt Mack to have a little fun while she was in town? Maybe not. But it would go against her new code. The New Mackenzie O’Neil was too busy finding herself and being admirably healthy to fall into bed with handsome acquaintances.

The New Mackenzie O’Neil was a real buzzkill.

Ellen’s phone rang shrilly from inside her purse. “Ugh. That’s Barry. Hang on. What do you want, Bare?”

Mack watched Ellen’s eyes roll dramatically. “No. I did not tell him that he could have cake for dinner. Don’t let him play you. You’re better than that, Barry.” No, he’s not, she mouthed.

Mack snickered.

Sophie swung out onto the patio, her hands full with their food. The patron who held the door watched her admiringly.

“Another round, ladies?” she asked, setting the salad, wings, plates, and napkins on the table.

Ellen nodded vehemently. “Calm down. Just make him nuggets and call it a night.”

Mack looked at her glass. “Sure.”

Sophie whirled away with their order and headed back inside.

“Ugh. Yes. I’ll go to the grocery store on my way home. But can you try to remember this stuff when I’m actually making my list next time? Make my life just a little bit easier for once? Hello? Hello?”

Annoyance crackling off her, she shoved her phone back in her bag. “He hung up on me. Can you believe that?”

Mack wasn’t sure if she could or not.

“This is why I’m so stressed. I can’t even get ten minutes to myself without someone needing something.” She reached into her bag and produced a pack of cigarettes.

Mack cleared her throat.

“Oh, hell. Okay. Fine. I lied. I’m stressed out.”

“Okay. So tell me about it,” Mack said, sliding half of the salad onto a plate.

They ate wings and speared vinaigrette-tossed lettuce while Ellen talked and Mack listened. She was getting a clearer picture. One she’d missed in the office because she’d been in a hurry to move on to the next appointment.

“Have you thought about anxiety meds?” Mack asked when Ellen seemed to have emptied out her stress tank.

“Thought about and rejected,” Ellen said cheerfully. “I’m cautious about what I put in my body.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way. I’m saying this as a friend and not a doctor. But are you really?” Mack looked pointedly at the wings, the cigarettes, the second fishbowl-sized margarita.

Ellen winced. “Don’t I deserve to have a vice or two…or three?”

“What you deserve is to feel good, to be healthy. Stress isn’t good for anyone.”

“What am I supposed to do? Sell a kid and get a divorce?”

Mack looked around them to make sure no one else was listening. “I am definitely not saying that. What I am saying is you have options. You can make some lifestyle changes, or you can consider prescriptions, or both. You don’t have to keep feeling like this. But you will if you keep doing what you’re doing.”

“Lifestyle like eating healthy and exercising? You sound like Dr. Dunnigan and Dr. Robinson, you know?” Ellen groaned.

“It doesn’t have to be torture,” Mack said. “What did you like to do before you had kids?”