She sucks her teeth, and I finally gaze in her direction. “Don’t lie, mija. You’ve never been a good liar so don’t try to start now. It’s not a hobby you want to pick up.”
I sigh, frustrated. “I don’t want to talk about it, Mami. Can you just…can we talk about anything else?” My voice is firm, and she knows I won’t budge.
She reaches over, grabbing a piece of grapefruit and pops half of itinto her mouth. “Fine. Let’s talk about when you’re changing out the magenta from your hair.”
I chuckle under my breath. “You are impossible.” She smiles back at me, though it doesn't reach her eyes. We don’t hide things from one another, but this is something I just can’t share with her. Not right now.
Another customer walks in and she gives me a silent apology. We both know it’s time for us to get back to our days. Instead of saying goodbye, Mami leans in and kisses both of my cheeks. “Whatever it is, don’t hold it in.” I give her a firm nod, and once she walks away, I pull my phone out of my pocket and open the group chat to the girls.
Paloma
I need a girls’ night asaptually.
My thumb hangs in limbo above the SEND button, and I realize in this very moment how dumb of me it was to corner myself into silence. I’ve only shared bits and pieces about Clint with Cass, definitely not the whole story. If I send this message I’m going to have a whole lot of explaining to do with Janelle and Brianna, not because I have to, but because why wouldn’t I after putting out the bat signal like this.
Closing my eyes, I lock the device and hold it to my chest before taking a deep inhale. “Fuck me,” I whisper the curse under my breath. I want to tell the girls, but I don’t know if I’m ready to face any of those feelings again. I don’t think my heart can handle this kind of heartbreak again.
Even if I did it to myself.
5
Chuck:Talk about a flashback.
Lou:We are back in the past. This can’t be good.
Chuck:Maybe it’s their origin story, like an early tee time.
Lou:It’s like two amateur golfers just swinging in the wind.
Sunshine filters in from the windows of the restaurant within the Mossy Oaks Clubhouse. When I decided to take a year off from my MBA, I never imagined I would be here of all places. I’ve never played a game of golf in my life but I saw the opening and applied. Whodathunk I would get the role?
I cut into my syrup-soaked waffle and pop it into my mouth; my eyes widen in surprise at how fluffy and sweet this waffle is, how the butter and sugar mingle. It’s really good, likereallygood. This is everything I need this morning. We have a new golf pro starting today, and though new hires are generally wonderful, the paperwork is not my favorite.
“How are you doin’ today, Miss Reyes?” Glen asks. He’s one of the managers here meaning he is responsible for the course and whatever other events are going on around here. I make a mental note to figure out all the golf lingo now that I’ve been here for a couple months.
I smile at the older gentleman. “Hey, Glen! I’mdoing pretty well today. Just getting some breakfast in before I start my day. How are you?”
“Absolutely peachy. As you know, we have a new golf pro comin’ in today. I don’t want to chat up your ear while you’re off the clock, but he’s one of our own. Born and raised here in Cypress Lake. When you are all done with his paperwork, would you mind bringing him down to my office?” he says, as he does, in fact, eat into my waffle time.
“You bet!” I reply, far more perky than I actually feel, making me all the more grateful for having a small Keurig in my office. As Glen makes his way to his office, I take another bite before I stand. The Keurig isn't going to do what I need at the moment; I need an espresso stat. Placing my napkin on the table, I walk toward the bar to place an order for a small cup of caffeine.
“Hey, Kels.” I wave to one of the girls inside the kitchen. “Would you mind making me an espresso? I’m in major need.”
“Of course, Lo. You know I got you, girl,” she says in only the way she can, with a joyful attitude I’ve grown to love.
From the corner of my eye, I watch as a handsome stranger slides onto the stool next to me. His white golf polo accentuates his deep tan skin, and I find it hard to focus on anything but him.
“Good morning.” His voice is smooth and rich. Having him whisper sweet nothings in my ear would be a fucking dream.
I tilt myself in his direction, not fully facing him but giving him some of my attention. When I reply, there’s a soft smirk gracing his face, and I find I have one too, “Good morning. Are you placing an order for something? The chef and staff here are wonderful.”
“I'm a few minutes early and figured a coffee wouldn’t hurt.” He must have an early tee time.
“Let me help with that, if you don’t mind of course.” When he nodshis head, I ask, “Sugar and milk?”
“Sure.” Simple yet effective.
I turn in my seat and call toward the kitchen again, knowing she’ll hear me, “Hey, Kels, would you mind adding another coffee to my order?”
