“You diva!” Liz launches herself at Cambria, and I catch her but not before the heel of her hand collides with my cheek bone. “Oh my gosh, Holland, I’m so sorry!”
Callen has stepped in to corral Michelle and Cambria, both of whom are breathing heavily.
“Does someone want to tell me what’s going on?” I don’t even bother to hide my annoyance. We’re supposed to be getting to know each other, not getting into catfights. I don’t have time for this group date from you-know-where. I want to be anywhere but here right now.
“Michelle said she would look best on your arm, because her color profile complements yours,” Cambria huffs. “But that’s not true. You and I would clearly look best together.”
“You would not. I would look best with him. I mean, look at us.” Liz, uses her position closest to me to hook her hand into the crook of my elbow and tug me down so our faces line up.
“Color profiles?” I am so confused. I shake my head. “You know what? It doesn’t matter. Cambria, Liz, Michelle. I appreciate your time and…enthusiasm. But this isn’t going to work.”
Cambria’s jaw drops. “You’re sending us home?”
“All of us?” Liz wails.
Chad hustles into the foray. “Holland, to be clear, you’re making an unprecedented, sweeping elimination here on this group date. Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.” I’m one hundred percent sure these are not women I can see sharing a future with.
“Then ladies, it’s time to say your goodbyes.”
Liz stomps her foot next to me. “We would have made such pretty babies.”
She stalks off with a pout. In all the hubbub, the idea of having babies is what my mind snags on. I blame my mother…and Poppy, for bringing it up last night. The wistful look Mallory got on her face when my mom asked her about wanting a family is branded in my mind. She looked so hopeful and filled with longing, but also a little melancholy. All I wanted to do was ask her more. But that is definitely not my place. She’s made that abundantly clear. Talk about blurring the personal/professional line we have marked in the sand. Besides, I’ve got other things to worry about at the moment.
Cambria is bawling, and Michelle just shrugs as she follows her producer for a one-on-one interview.
I do what Vivian tells me to do and wrap up the date with the remaining women and then escape as fast as humanly possible.
I make the quick drive through downtown Cashmere Cove to the golf course, feeling all sorts of off kilter. The thought of those women coming to blows over wanting to be on my arm isn’t as flattering as maybe they hoped it would be. I have to think the whole thing was a stunt. Production was practically salivating, but I couldn’t help but feel cheapened by it. Like, did those three women care more about looking good with me than they did about getting to know me? That’s been my fear since before this show. It comes with the territory of being a pro athlete. I know that, and to be honest, I’ve leaned into casual dating in the past because I’m terrified that striving for something more will only lead to disappointment and, worse, humiliation when it comes out that no one wants the real me. The guy who can’t get words out when he’s nervous or anxious. Who’s been hiding behind a front of faux confidence but secretly always wonders if golf were to go away, would everyone who says they care about me disappear too? I’m all in my head now.
It’s ironic that I’ve made golf my entire personality, and I’m afraid of how people will treat me if I’m not as successful in my sport. At the same time, I love the sport so much and rely on it as my anchor—what I’ve always run to when the rest of life spirals.
In any case, I’ve got a practice to get to, and I’ve never been more excited to get out on the course and put the entire group date disaster behind me.
Cy, the manager at the golf course in Cashmere Cove and my old high school coach, is waiting for me outside the clubhouse when I pull up twenty minutes ahead of my scheduled coaching session with Mallory. I take a deep breath and stride over to him.
“Holland! Welcome, welcome! Good to see you.” He shakes my shoulder before wrapping me in a bear hug.
“Thanks for fitting me in here,” I say when I step back.
“You kidding?” He chortles. “It’s an honor.”
I shake my head. “None of that now. You knew me back when.”
Back when I was an insecure kid with a stutter who was afraid to say anything out loud for fear of drawing the unwanted attention of the bullies who made me feel like scum.
“I did.” He chuckles a warm-sounding laugh, not privy to the dark place my thoughts have scampered off to. “How are you, son? How’s everything going? Can’t believe you’re doing a TV show. Are the cameras coming here?” He glances past me.
“Hate to disappoint you, but no. My coach would not allow that. Proprietary practice info and all that.”
He nods sagely. “Smart woman. Mallory Walsh, right? I’ve looked her up. Seems like she’s a good fit for you.”
My mind flashes back to how she leaned into me when my dad was giving a toast. She tucked so perfectly under my arm I almost couldn’t breathe.
“I hear she’s one of your contestants too.” He wags his eyebrows. “And a good one.”
I tip my chin, widening my eyes. “Who’d you hear that from?”
