Mr. Crawley reached for a water and smiled at Wyatt. “I can’t believe you agreed to play with him.”
Wyatt rubbed his forehead underneath the brim of his hat. “You’re telling me.”
“If you’d agree to be my partner for once and let us clobber everyone...” Mr. Crawley trailed off. “Let me know.”
“Oh, hey now. You know that wouldn’t be fair. It’s an unwritten rule, right? The best of the best can’t play together.”
Augie closed the cooler as the sun fell over the ice, and the men jolted when the clasp snapped into place.
“Oh well. I guess I should stick with the youth while I can, old man.” Mr. Crawley gave Wyatt’s arm a light punch as he moved past him toward his cart.
“I am an old man,” Wyatt sighed to Augie. “But, all right, I should go. Hang in there, kiddo.” He dipped his hat to her as he headed toward Joshua Mike.
Augie looked out to the lake, blinking away a gust of wind, but a second later, she felt the air shift in a new way—Chat. They were alone now. Still, she was no longer excited to see him; she was too consumed with guilt about Leah. All she wanted to do was call her and apologize for everything. She was such a bad friend these days, forcing all her petty drama on Leah when Leah was the one with real problems—a real job. Once again, a guy was taking over Augie’s focus.
“Hi,” Chat finally said, clearly thrilled to see her.
Augie studied his blue Lacoste polo, white pants, golf gloves—Club hat. He pinched the collar of his shirt and reached out to touch hers.
“We match.” He laughed, grinning manically. “I haven’t worn a polo in years.”
“What a coincidence.” Her voice was harsher than intended, but she couldn’t help it. She looked away, watching the men drinking by their carts, updating their scorecards.
“Okay, another random run-in means you’re thinking it again.”Chat leaned closer. “I was never supposed to...” he began, prompting her to finish the sentence.
Augie opened a cooler and grabbed a piece of ice, squeezing it in her fist until the water melted through the cracks of her fingers.
“See you again.” She looked straight up at him.
“I’m sorry I didn’t get to say goodbye at the cabin, by the way. That was all... a lot.”
“It was something.”
Chat pulled back.
“At least people love a story,” Augie said before he could respond—echoing what she’d heard him say to Mrs. Crawley. She hadn’t planned to do it, but her frustration was growing. Chat and Mrs. Crawley shouldn’t be consuming so much of her energy; she just needed to know once and for all what was really going on between them. Did he actuallylikeher?
Chat scrunched his eyebrows. Augie wasn’t sure he remembered saying those words, but he was registering her attitude all the same; the previous ease of their back-and-forth was gone.
“Do you want a water?” she suddenly asked, exasperated. She’d always been like this: the first to break a spell of uncomfortable silence. To feel bad.
He took the water without saying anything.
On reflex, she rolled back her shoulders, and in her moment of weakness, she asked what she really wanted to know. “How was the rest of the week?”
“It was fine. The weather was good. I can’t complain. But I was still working, so. It was still work.”
This wasn’t the answer Augie had wanted. She wanted to hear it was awful—that Mrs. Crawley was horrible, a pain in the ass to be around.
“I’ve been working a lot, too.” She latched the coolers. “I was glad to have some time off.”
“Yeah, I could use a break. I’ve been with them nonstop. At this point, I feel like I’m a thirtysomething dad.”
“That cabin is pretty special, though.” Augie gave him a challenging look. “Not exactly a bad place to work.”
Chat stepped closer, moving his head toward her ear as if he was about to whisper—but at that moment, Mr. Crawley and Joshua Mike returned for more drinks, and Augie realized she needed to write down their orders.
“Uh, gentlemen”—she backed away from Chat—“if you could let me know your drink totals and what number you’d like to use, that’d be great.”
