“No,” I admit.
“Has he ever made you feel small or insignificant?”
“The opposite.” I think about how he’s always given me his full attention when we’re together. How, from that first night, he’s always made me feel as if he likes me for me. “Hays makes me feel like I could conquer the world.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
I close my eyes and swallow hard. The issue becoming crystal clear. Me. “I’ve been the roadblock. This entire time, I’ve been the one making excuses, pushing him away, coming up with reasons why it won’t work.” My voice cracks. “He’s done nothing but prove himself to me, over and over again, and I just kept moving the goalposts.”
The realization hits me like a physical blow. “I even canceled on him Friday night,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. “Told him I needed space, that I was protecting him from the media attention.”
I look up at my friends, shame burning in my chest. “But really, I was punishing him. For what? For keeping his promise? For being exactly who he’s always been?”
Sarah’s expression softens. “Oh, honey.”
“Nothing that’s happened this week has been his fault,” I continue, the words tumbling out now. “Not the media attention, not the headlines, not the pressure. That’s all just part of his world, and instead of standing beside him through it, I ran. I abandoned him when he needed me most.”
“And?” Cora prompts gently.
“And I love him.” The words come out in a rush, like a dam bursting. “I love his confidence and his dimples and the way he makes everything feel possible.”
I think about that first night, how he’d said “when you know, you know” with such certainty. He’d known. From the very beginning, he’d known what we could be, and I’d spent three years trying to prove him wrong.
The tears flow freely now, but I can’t stop. Hays never asked me to change. He just asked me to trust him. To trust us.
“He’s given me so much.” I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand. “And what have I given him in return? Doubt. Fear. Conditions.”
My voice grows stronger as the truth settles in. “The least I can do is give him my love. Unconditionally. Win or lose, major championship or not. He deserves someone who believes in him the way he’s believed in me.”
Sarah squeals as Emma claps her hands together. “So, what are you going to do about it?”
I look around my friends, who did who knows what to come here and stage an intervention. Incredible women who have systematically dismantled every excuse I’ve built up to protect my heart.
An idea forms in my mind. Something bigger than just showing up at the course. Something that would prove to Hays I’m all in.
“I need to get to the tournament tomorrow,” I say, setting my plate on the coffee table as I jump up and start pacing. “And show him what real follow-through looks like.”
My friends erupt with enthusiasm, but I’m already thinking ahead. After all, Hays isn’t the only one who can make a grand gesture.
“Speaking of the tournament,” Emma says with a mischievous grin, “What about that caddy of his? Rory? He’s…”
“Hot,” Cora finishes with a dreamy sigh. “Like, seriously hot. Dark hair, those intense eyes, and did you see his arms when he was carrying that golf bag?”
“Down, girls,” I laugh, feeling lighter than I have in days. “Tabitha’s already called dibs.”
A chorus of groans erupts, but I grab my coffee and take a sip, already thinking about tomorrow when, win or lose, Hays will know exactly where my heart belongs.
Chapter twenty-three
Hays
Yesterday’s cloud coverage blew out to sea overnight. The threat of storms has passed, and the late June sun burned off the last wisps of the misty morning hanging over the Harbor course hours ago.
I take a deep breath, trying to let the familiar scent of fresh-cut grass center me, but it doesn’t help. I’m in the second-to-last pairing, six shots back, going into the final round. Not exactly where I pictured myself when I arrived in Starlight Bay six days ago with a ring in my pocket and forever on my mind.
The practice range is nearly empty, with most of the field already out on the course. Only the top players gunning for the trophy remain, but the energy from those still here is palpable.
We all have a shot at the win.
