Page 17 of Tee the Season
She sighs. “Fine. But Tabitha? For what it’s worth? I know Rory better than you, and I think you guys are good together. Different, sure. But good different. The kind of different that fits.”
After we hang up, I sit in the silence of the empty bookstore, surrounded by boxes of donated books for kids who need a little magic in their lives. Outside, the wind howls and snow continues to fall, piling higher against the windows.
I pull out my phone, meaning to check the weather forecast, to see how long this storm is supposed to last. But instead, I scroll to the photographer's photos Leah shared from her wedding.
There’s one I’m looking for. Rory and me at the reception. We’re not looking at the camera. We’re looking at each other. His hand is at the small of my back, and I’m laughing atsomething he said, my head tilted up toward his. The look on his face…
I shove the phone away before I find the image.
Two days, I think, pulling the first donated book from the box. Surely, it won’t be more than that before he leaves and I stay and everything goes back to normal.
But as I try to focus on sorting picture books from chapter books, my mind keeps drifting upstairs. To the man in my apartment. To last night. To the way he’d looked at me this morning in the kitchen. To the fact, for the first time in my carefully ordered life, normal doesn’t sound nearly as appealing as it used to.
Chapter eight
Rory
The stairwell down to the bookstore creaks under my feet. I should be relieved the call with Hays is over, that we’ve got our tournament schedule locked in, that everything’s on track for another season.
Instead, I’m heading toward Tabitha as if she’s magnetic north.
“You look…relaxed,” Hays had said, a knowing grin plastered across his face.
“It’s just one night that’s turned into two,” I’d replied, but even I heard how defensive that sounded.
“Right. Even though you’ve been thinking about her for months.”
I’d deflected after that, steered us back to golf talk, but his words still rattle around in my skull as I push through the door at the bottom of the stairs.
The scent of the bookstore hits me immediately, a combination of paper and wood polish, with undertones of pine from the abundance of holiday decorations. Outside, snowcontinues to fall past the front windows, muffling the world beyond into white noise.
I find Tabitha in the children’s section, sitting cross-legged on the floor surrounded by boxes and stacks of books, her hair pulled back in a messy knot. She looks like a sexy librarian, but I shove down that thought fast.
She doesn’t notice when I approach, too focused on whatever she’s doing. Could she be trying to lose herself in work? Hell knows, it’s a tactic I’ve used a thousand times. An excuse that’s come in all too handy with many women.
“Need a hand?”
She startles and glances up before her gaze darts back down to the books. “Your call’s done already? That was fast.”
“After this many years, we’ve got it down to a science. Plus, I did a lot of preliminary work to get things in order.” I lower myself to the floor across from her, the space tight between the shelves. Our knees almost touch. “What are we sorting?”
“Donated books.” She gestures at the surrounding chaos. “They need to be organized by reading level.”
I reach for the nearest stack and start scanning covers, automatically sorting based on her system. Picture books in one pile, early readers in another, chapter books in a third.
Tabitha watches for a moment. “How do you know so much about children’s books?”
“My niece,” I say, setting aMagic Tree Housebook in the chapter pile. “She’s eight going on sixteen and has been an avid reader for years.” I hold up a picture book with a dragon on the cover. “She went through a phase with these a while back. Made me read the entire series over FaceTime. Twice.”
A smile tugs at Tabitha’s lips, the first genuine one since I came downstairs. “You FaceTime with your niece?”
“Every Monday, no matter where I am or what I’m doing.” I shrug, oddly defensive about it. “She likes to tell me about herweek. What she’s reading. Which boys in her class are being idiots.”
“That’s…” Tabitha pauses, studying me with those sharp brown eyes. “Really sweet.”
“Don’t spread it around. Ruins my reputation.” I’m aiming for casual, but there’s too much truth underneath. Sophie’s one of the few constants in my hectic life. One of the few people who doesn’t care about my job or Hays’s ranking or anything except to ask whether I remembered to watch the latest Pixar movie, so we can discuss it.
We fall into a rhythm, sorting in companionable silence. The space is cramped enough that every time one of us reaches for a new stack, our arms brush. When she shifts to grab a box, her knee presses against mine for a second too long before she pulls back.
