Page 41 of Tee the Season
“You’re doing it again,” Leah says.
“Doing what?”
“That thing where you look at him like you still can’t believe he’s real.” She shifts, trying to get comfortable. “It’s disgustingly cute.”
“Says the woman who stares at Hays like he hung the moon.”
“He did.” She grins, shameless. “And I was right, by the way.”
“About?”
“Everything. You and Rory. That dinner last year where I obviously set you up.” She counts on her fingers. “The fact you’d be perfect together. That he’d stay. That you’d let him in. Should I keep going?”
I roll my eyes, but I’m smiling. “You’re insufferable when you’re right.”
“So the majors,” Leah says, shifting topics as Rory starts a new book. “After their planning meeting the other day, Hays said Rory’s committed to caddying all four tournaments again next year.”
“He is.” I nod. “We’ve got the schedule mapped out. Masters in April, PGA in May, US Open in June, British Open in July.”
“That’s a lot of time apart.”
“Four weeks, maybe five total when you factor in travel.” I shrug. “It works for us.”
“You could come along on one of the trips. Keep me company.”
I’ve thought about it. “He loves being out there with Hays, and I love what I do here.” I smile and drop my voice. “Plus, when we have time apart, it makes the reunions even better.”
Leah grins. “I bet it does.”
“Not just like that—” But I’m laughing. “I mean, we appreciate the quiet moments more. The boring Tuesday nights. The normal routine.”
“Nothing about you two is normal,” Leah observes. “In the best way.”
I dip my chin toward Hays, sitting next to Aunt Mae on a bench in the back row, her walker at her side. “I learned from the best.”
Leah glances up at my fiancé, who’s finishing up the last book. “He’s really good at this.”
“He is.” Pride swells in my chest. “And the country club members love him. There’s a waiting list for private lessons now.”
“Hays mentioned Rory’s starting a junior program in the spring?”
“Teaching kids fundamentals.” I hear the excitement in my voice. “He’s been planning the curriculum for weeks. Says it’s different from caddying but good different.”
“And he doesn’t miss it? The tour life?”
I think about this, about the conversations we’ve had late at night. “He misses parts of it. The competition, the pressure, being right there when Hays wins. But he doesn’t miss the grind. The endless hotels, the lack of routine, the feeling like he was always passing through.”
“Because now he has roots.”
“Now, he has roots,” I echo.
“Because he’s not just supporting someone else’s dream anymore.” Leah watches Rory with knowing eyes. “He’s building his own.”
The observation hits perfectly. “Yeah. He is.”
With me. In Starlight Bay. In this life we’re building, one day at a time.
Rory finishes the story and sets down the book. “Alright, who wants to take a photo with Santa?”
