“I hope so.” He reaches across the table to cover my hand with his. “It’s funny, when I was starting the foundation, it made me think about the future. About what kind of legacy I want to leave behind.”
The weight of his gaze makes my pulse skip. There’s an unspoken question about the kind of future we might build together. I breathe a sigh of relief when, rather than continue, his gaze shifts to the hutch against the wall.
Chapter seventeen
Hays
Istudy the framed photo in the hutch. “Is that your mom? You have her smile.”
“She would have liked to hear that. Even to this day, I can hear her saying, ‘Smiles are contagious.’”
Something in her tone makes my chest tighten. “Is she—”
“Gone. Five years now. Cancer.”
Fuck. The quiet way she says it, as if she’s practiced delivering this news without falling apart, makes me want to pull her into my arms.
“I’m sorry.” I keep my voice gentle, recognizing the careful control in her expression.
“She was… Everything good about me comes from her.”
I glance over the other photos, noticing what’s not there as much as what is. “And your dad?”
“Walked out when I was six.”
The words hit me like a sucker punch. Six years old. The same age I was when I still believed my dad would live forever, when I thought he’d be there for every tournament, every milestone.But while my father was ripped away by a heart attack, hers made a choice to walk out. The bastard.
“I see why you were so hesitant to say yes to my proposal.”
Her spine straightens. “Because I have daddy issues?”
I hold up both hands, not wanting her to think I’m judging her. Hell, we’ve both got our damage. “I’m not saying it’s a bad thing. It was a smart play, really. Makes sense you’d want to see my scorecard before backing me.”
Despite the serious turn our conversation has taken, her lips quirk upward. “You’re comparing our marriage pact to a golf game?”
“You wanted to see if I had staying power. If I could go the distance for eighteen holes.”
“And you think you can?”
“Sweetheart, I’ve been obsessed with you since the night we met. If that’s not staying power, I don’t know what is.”
No matter how much I reassure her, doubt lingers in those dark eyes. And suddenly, I’m wondering if my absolute certainty about us is exactly what scares her. Maybe, my confidence feels like pressure. Maybe, she needs me to acknowledge that forever is terrifying, not just inevitable.
Before I can dig myself deeper into serious territory, she glances toward the corner where a putter leans against the wall. “Want to see how good your short game really is?”
I follow her gaze to an area near the fireplace, where she’s set up what looks like a makeshift putting green with a drinking glass at the end, and burst out laughing. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“My neighbor loaned me a putter and some balls.”
“I could’ve supplied you with some.”
She rolls her eyes as she retrieves two Titleists from under the couch. “I figured if I’m going to date a professional golfer, I should at least understand the basics.”
The word ‘date’ stops me cold. I take the putter from her, letting my fingers brush hers. “Date? Is that what we’re doing?”
She looks off. “Let’s call it that for now.”
“I’ll take what I can get. As long as this…dating ends with a ring on your finger and you by my side. Forever.”
