Page 83 of Sweet Spot
“That’s encouraging.”
“I’m kidding. Geez. Yes, grades are good. Everything is good. Next year, are you and Nathan gonna get off my case?”
“Not likely.”
“Didn’t think so. Well, on that note, I gotta go. I’m going to a party where there’ll be booze . . . lots and lots of booze and opportunities for all sorts of shady decisions.”
“Stay out of trouble.” I can’t help but add the one last order. “Where are you heading tonight?”
He hesitates a second, probably because I never ask specifics. “Why? Are you planning to stop by to check in on me, old man?”
“Just making polite conversation.” And wondering if he’s going somewhere that he might run into Keira, but I’m certainly not telling him that. I don’t even want to admit it out loud to myself.
He laughs and disconnects without answering, and I spend the next few hours taking one call after another. When I’m finally able to toss my phone onto the desk and breathe a sigh of relief, I look up at the boxes from the storage unit lining the far wall in my office.
I’m tempted to throw all of it into the dumpster just to be rid of it, but I know there are probably a few mementos from my childhood I’d be sad to lose.
I stand and cross the room. I can’t feel any worse, right?
Wrong. I pull back the flaps on the closest box and stare down at an eleven by fourteen framed photo of my wedding day. A young, happy couple stares back at me. Lacey’s smile is big and genuine as I bend her backward in a kiss-the-bride pose. God, we look so happy and totally unaware of the shitstorm that lies ahead.
And that’s why I need to let Keira stay pissed at me. She has her whole life ahead of her, a golf career and love. I choke on the last word, already bitter picturing her with someone else. She deserves it all.
My phone vibrates on the desk and I ignore it as I let the flaps fall closed and walk out of the office. I don’t let my mind wander to what other treasures might be waiting for me in those boxes. I don’t answer clients. I don’t beat myself up over the work I should be doing instead of crawling into bed. I don’t question it when I close my eyes and inhale her faint scent.
And I don’t call Keira, though that one is much harder than all the others.
31
Keira
After our practice on Tuesday,a local reporter stops by the campus course to talk with Cassidy. Erica stands beside me as we watch Coach beam with pride next to Cass as she’s being interviewed about her invitation to the amateur championship.
“You’d think they were recognizing him.” I don’t have to look at her to know she’s rolling her eyes.
“Yep. I’m sure he’s figuring out a way to make it all about him.”
We grab our bags to head out. “Are you coming over tonight for Cass’s party?”
“I can’t. I’m heading up to Scottsdale as soon as I pack.”
“Oh, right. The sectional qualifier is this week.”
“Yep. It’s Thursday, but I have an early morning practice round on the course tomorrow.”
“I wish I could come watch. You’re gonna kill it, you know that, right?”
“I wish I had your confidence. Practice this week has sucked.”
“You’re just in your head. When you get there and your handsome coach is by your side, you’ll get your confidence back.”
Thinking of Lincoln makes my heart hurt. I haven’t told the girls we aren’t working together anymore. If I did, they’d want to talk about it, and I definitely don’t want to talk about it—at least not this week. Next week, I’ll let them take me out, and I’ll word vomit all my feelings. But not yet.
“Keira Brooks?”
I turn to find the reporter walking toward me.
“Um, yeah, that’s me.”
