“Did that go well?”
“Right as rain.”
“You had a good surgeon,” she joked.
“The best,” I stated, matter-of-factly.
“They have plenty of amazing surgeons in California, Daniel. Be serious.”
“I am. You’re the best one for me. Got me all better, and now you’re here.”
“Shh. Don’t make me feel like I don’t have any scruples.” She lifted her mug to her mouth and took a long gulp. “So, golf? And a tour? Show me around in that shiny convertible of yours?”
“I hate to break it to you, but Angelenos think it’s cold right now.”
Reaching across, she pinched my cheek. “This northerner thinks it’s a heat wave.”
“Whatever you want, Birdie.”
Rolling her eyes at the nickname, she went back to her coffee.
Only one word came to mind: ease. We existed in ease.
As we sat quietly for a beat or two, Wren downed the rest of her cup and said, “Let’s roll. I won’t be long.” She stood and then turned. “Wait, did you say golf whites?”
I nodded. “There is a dress code. You don’t need white, but golf attire.”
“I’m guessing my Lululemon pants don’t count.”
I shook my head. “Get dressed in whatever you planned to wear for the day, and we will stop in the golf shop for some duds.”
She nodded and was off, leading me to wonder if this was reality. The ease of this was unexpected…a vibe that continued throughout the day.
“Like this?” Wren asked, grinding back into me as I helped maneuver her stroke.
“Like this,” I mimicked her, positioning her back arm, helping her bring the club up overhead and then allowing her to follow through.
Watching her ball hit the sand trap, I couldn’t stop thinking of how adorable she looked in a red golf skirt and a white shirt tucked into it, brand-new golf shoes on her feet. I hoped it meant she was keeping it all and coming back.
“Well, that was sucky—”
I pulled her in and kissed the top of her head. We were only on the fourth hole, and I was thinking nine would be enough for today.
“Go, take your turn,” she demanded.
She watched wild-eyed as I hit a hole in one.
“An eagle!” She jumped up and wrapped her arms around my neck, kissing my cheek. It took a moment, and then she said, “I’m sure that’s not appropriate for out here, but I don’t care.”
“Come on, let’s get your ball out of the sand trap,” I joked.
We did call it quits after nine, changing and retiring to lunch inside the clubhouse. Adam Sandler sat in the corner and I saw Wren eye him and look away before squeezing my hand.
I adored how sensitive she was to everything I said. It had been a while since anyone had actually listened to me.
We shared a giant shrimp cocktail and we each had a salad before we changed and I took Wren for a drive on Sunset Boulevard.
“Can we get out for a second?” she asked as we passed a big music store.
