I barked out a laugh before I could stop it.“Wow.That was embarrassing.”
He looked down at the ball, then slowly back at me.He was not happy.“You waited all night for that, didn’t you?”
“A little.”
He grunted and stepped back from the hole, gesturing with the putter.“Alright, hotshot.Show me how it’s done.”
I moved forward, trying not to smile too much because, okay, this part had been fun.
That was the thing.
It had been a fun night.
Jesse had picked me up on time, like always.He looked good—clean dark jeans, black T-shirt, boots.Nothing flashy, nothing trying too hard.Just put together in a way that felt easy on him.He brought me here without making it a whole thing, bought our tickets, won me a cheap stuffed turtle from one of the booths after he said the first one looked too sad to leave hanging there, and had been attentive the entire night.
He listened.
He opened doors.
He smiled at me like he liked being there.
There was nothing wrong with Jesse.
Maybe I was not the kind of woman who got the spark.Maybe safe and steady and uncomplicated was the better option for someone like me—someone who had spent too many years wanting the wrong man and building up feelings for someone who had never once offered me anything back.
I bent over my ball and lined up the shot.
The fake grass was worn smooth in spots, and one of the plastic flowers near the pond was broken off halfway down the stem, but I still took my time because if I was going to talk shit, I should probably back it up.
I tapped the ball.
It rolled cleaner than Jesse’s had, curved around the pond, kissed the edge of the castle opening, and dropped in with a satisfying little clunk.
I straightened slowly, trying for calm and failing because I was already smiling.
Jesse groaned.“Unbelievable.”
I gave a sweet shrug.“Maybe you’re just out of practice.”
He pointed the putter at me.“One lucky shot doesn’t erase the rest of the score.”
“Let me have this.”
He laughed.“Fine.You can have that one.”
I picked up my ball and moved aside while he took his second shot.It went in this time, and he gave me a look like he expected applause.
I gave him a pity clap.
“Rude,” he said.
“Honest.”
We moved toward the seventeenth hole, weaving around a family with three little kids all holding putters bigger than they were.One of the boys nearly ran straight into Jesse, and Jesse caught him by the shoulders before he could faceplant into the concrete border.
“Watch where you’re going, kid,” Jesse said.
The kid said sorry like he wasn’t sorry at all and took off again while his mom mouthed a tired thank you from behind him.
