Then I see her.
Leah stands inside the ropes near the green, that fuchsia shirt blazing like a beacon against the crowd. The sight of her waiting makes my chest tight. But it’s who’s standing beside her that makes me nearly stumble. My mom.
Their arms are linked, the two chatting easily, heads bent together like old friends. When Mom throws back her head,laughing at something Leah says, an overwhelming surge of pure happiness nearly stops me in my tracks.
“Good lie,” Rory says as we approach the green, but I hear the grin in his voice. He saw them, too.
I mark my ball with the pressed penny and step back, zeroed in on this shot.
Rory scans the green. “Twelve feet, slight uphill. Five, maybe six, inches of break from right to left, but it’s subtle. The grain’s running away from you, so it’ll be a touch slower than the practice green.”
I nod, reading the line myself. The green slopes gently toward the harbor. The lighthouse in the background, its white tower standing high over the water, reminds me I’m back where Leah and I began.
“Pace is key,” Rory continues. “Get it to the hole with good speed and let the break take it. Nothing fancy.”
“Don’t worry,” I assure him, with a wink. “I’ve been working on my stroke all week. I know exactly how to get it in the hole.”
Rory shakes his head with a snort. “Jesus, Granger. Even now?”
“Especially now,” I grin.
And with that, his caddy mask slips, replaced by the friend who’s been by my side since we were kids. He claps me on the shoulder, his voice dropping to something only I can hear.
“Take your time. Enjoy this moment. You’ve earned it.”
I will, believe me. Because when I sink this putt, I’ll be the leader in the clubhouse at the fucking Open. The stakes are massive, the pressure should be crushing, but instead, I feel like I did when I was little, when my dad was my coach and caddy and assured me I could do anything.
I pick up the pressed penny, replacing it with my ball, and slip it into my pocket, sending a silent Happy Father’s Day wish outto him, because there’s a chance I might be about to make his prediction come true.
With a deep breath, I step up to the ball. Three practice strokes and I’m feeling the weight of the putter in my hands. I adjust my grip twice, just like always, making sure everything’s perfect. Then I go completely still, the crowd noise fading to white noise as I read the line one more time.
The putt feels perfect the moment it leaves the blade. I watch it track exactly where I aimed, taking the subtle break, rolling with that confident pace that says it’s never going anywhere but the bottom of the cup.
It drops with the sweetest sound in golf, that satisfying rattle of ball against plastic.
The crowd erupts like a bomb went off. Thousands losing their minds, their cheers echoing off the clubhouse and rolling out over the harbor. I raise both arms, letting the club fall to the ground as the moment washes over me.
Rory’s there in an instant, pulling me into a fierce hug I return with the deep gratitude I have for this man who’s been by my side through thick and thin. He pounds my back but doesn’t say anything, which tells me more than words ever could. As we part, I lift my hat and run a hand through my hair before I lose it right here, right now.
It takes a minute to shake my partner’s hand and his caddy’s, as well, accepting their congratulations, but then, I’m walking off the green, searching the secure area that leads to the scoring tent.
And Leah’s right there. She rushes toward me, a huge smile filling her beautiful face. I catch her, lifting her off the ground and spinning her around while she laughs against my neck. She feels perfect in my arms, solid and real and mine.
“I can’t believe you just did that,” she breathes against my ear.
“Believe it, sweetheart.” I set her down, turning as Mom appears at my shoulder.
I pull her into a fierce hug.
“I’m so proud of you,” she whispers, her voice thick with emotion. “And somewhere out there, I know your dad is, too.”
I swallow hard, the emotion swelling within me. “I played with the marker today, and he was right there with me.”
Tears stream down her cheeks as she steps back, swiping them away with the back of her hand. It nearly breaks me, but I reach for her, and when her fingers curl around mine, I let out a long breath.
“I see you’ve met my fiancée,” I say, clearing my throat.
“We’ve been having the most wonderful chat,” Mom says, beaming.
