“Also, need to warn you. Mae and the girls are coming to watch me play a few holes. There’s some party at the pool here around lunchtime, so they thought since they were headed out this way, they’d come a little early. Mae just called me.”
Oh God.
He must see I’m about to panic, because he adds, “I know you didn’t want anyone to know you’re out here. I tried to tell them not to worry about it, but they feel bad my parents aren’t here to watch me play. I think my mom asked them to come. I’m sorry.”
It dawns on me that while he may want their support while he plays, he told them no for me. And he doesn’t even know why I’m hiding the fact I’m here.
“Please don’t be sorry. I’m glad they’re coming to watch you. Thanks for the heads-up. I’ll be on the lookout for them.”
He seems to relax a bit.
“This is the last thing you should be worried about. Seriously! I’m good! You go out there and kill it today,” I say with the biggest smile I can muster.
And I mean it. If I know they’re coming here, I’ll just avoid them. At all costs!
His hand cups my cheek, his thumb stroking my skin. “I’m starting on hole three. Just so you know where we are.”
I want to lean in closer. I want those three kisses again. It looks like he wants the same thing. There’s a moment’s hesitation before he moves his hand from my face. He pulls his hat off, the faded blue one he’s worn the past two days, and drops it on my head.
“Maybe you can hide behind this if they get too close,” he says.
I put my hand on the brim, about to pull the hat off and hand it back to him. “No, I can tell this hat means something to you. I can’t take it.”
But he stops me from removing it. “I’ll like knowing where it is.”
I lean in before I can talk myself out of it and give him a very quick kiss on the lips. “Good luck today!” Then I hop back in the cart and pull away.
I park the cart behind the supply room and go back to refilling range balls. With Leo gone, my panic comes back full force. I am a nervous wreck. Everywhere I go includes a quick check of the area to see if Aunt Maggie Mae and the Evil Joes are nearby. I don’t take two steps without looking around in each direction. It’s madness.
An hour later, all the golfers have finished warming up at the range and everyone is about to tee off. I find myself back in the cart with the fun-sucker, Mr. Williams.
Aunt Maggie Mae and the Joes make an appearance not long after we get started. They have rented a cart and all three of them have squeezed onto the bench seat. They fit right in, since they’re decked out in gear just like the female players, bows and all for the twins.
I stuff my hair inside Leo’s hat and pull the brim down low. My sunglasses hide half my face and I’m praying they don’t recognize me, mainly because they aren’t looking for me to be here.
Mr. Williams has directed me to hole four, the one Leo should be on right now, so I hunch over in the driver’s seat, hoping the bare minimum of me will be visible. Mr. Williams is looking at me weird, and I get it. I’m trying to disappear into the small steering wheel.
“Pull up right over here and stop.”
We are literally feet from where Aunt Maggie Mae is parked. Great. Thankfully, Leo’s attention is fully on his game.
Leo lines up his shot, doing that same little ritual he does at the range. He looks down at the ball, then out to where he wants it to land, several times before settling his gaze back on the ball. He pulls his club back and then lets it go in a beautiful swing. The club connects and the sound echoes through the trees.
I don’t know how they know where the ball lands because I lose sight of it the second it’s airborne. But by his expression, Leo seems pleased.
Aunt Maggie Mae starts clapping and yells, “Great job, Leo!”
Mr. Williams is about to lose it, I can tell.
“Excuse me, but you must be silent while you are on the course!” He’s amazing at whisper-yelling. I’ve witnessed it a number of times over the last two days.
Aunt Maggie Mae spins around to find out who would ever dare try to tell her what to do. I duck in the opposite direction and become very interested in the grass growing next to the back tire.
“Well, excuse me. I’m just letting my son know I’m proud of him!” she says.
Her son. I roll my eyes. I’m sure she thinks if she’s related to him, she gets certain privileges. But I could have told her every parent here thinks they get special privileges.
They do not.
