Page 59 of The Perfect Putt

“That’s what you think now,” he replies, leaning back in his chair. “But five years from now when she’s got your beach house and gets half your paycheck because she spit out a few babies, it will matter.”

I clench my fists under the table. “None of that is going to happen.”

He sighs as if I exhaust him. “I’ve been where you are. Pretty women come and go. I don’t care if you sleep with all your assistants–I went through that phase, I understand the appeal–but you can’t go further than that.”

Anger burns in my chest like a fire. Every word he speaks is like gasoline on the flames.

“I’ve only ever married one woman, and even that I regret. But your mother was from a good family and we built something important together. She’s worth the alimony check. These other women? Assistants, waitresses, flight attendants? Don’t tie yourself to any of them. They’re all gold diggers trying to latch themselves on the most gullible man they can find.”

“Please stop talking,” I say, sounding as pained as I feel. I want to say more, but I’m afraid of how he’ll react and who he’ll take it out on.

“I won’t watch you lose everything you worked for–everything I paid for–because of a woman. You’re better than that.”

“I can’t listen to this anymore. I’m leaving.”

I stand, but he catches my arm in a vise grip. “We haven’t gotten our food yet. You will not leave like this.” In my peripheral vision I see heads turn our way.

I level him with a glare. “Let go of my arm or I will make even more of a scene than this.”

He releases me and snatches up his glass. “It’s a good thing we’ll be at the Open to support you next week, or else I’d be disappointed in you having to leave so soon for training.” He raises his voice for the sake of those around us.

I throw some cash on the table and leave without reacting to his statement. Once I’m outside the club I remember that my dad drove us both here, so I don’t have a car. I’m not ready to see Fitz or Ellie yet, so I decide to walk down the hill to Wave Way. It’s not far to Sand Dollar Diner, so I can head there and eat lunch before calling someone to take me home.

As I walk, my anger bubbles to the surface. I can’t believe my own father spoke that way about Ellie, about women in general. I share DNA with that man. The very thought makes me nauseous. My mother isn’t a saint, but I wish I would have gotten her blonde hair and brown eyes instead. I hate that I look like him. I hate that I share his last name. I’m ashamed to be related to him.

I’ve gotten used to his disgusting, slimy ways over the years. I’ve watched him change women the way my mother changes out handbags. But it’s only ever affected him. He manages to keep that area of his life private enough that the press never asks me about it. I’ve been able to keep my distance from him in that regard.

Now, however, he’s brought Ellie into this. I have no doubt that this won’t be his last try at dissuading me from having a relationship with her. Both my parents are vindictive enough to go directly to Ellie. They’ll bribe her, and when she turns that down they’ll be passive-aggressive every time they come into contact with her. If she thought the people at the club were bad, they have nothing on my family.

I shouldn’t have given her my sweatshirt, or a nickname, or taken her golfing. I should have kept my distance and been professional like I intended for us both to be. It would have been so much easier. She would be saving for her dream and I’d be living my life as normal. Just me and a few friends and golf. I was content with that.

A breeze brushes against my skin, but even the salty air can’t relax me. This is all too much. How am I supposed to protect Ellie from my parents and win the U.S. Open? Not to mention figure out how to move forward after this.

I feel like I’m in quicksand. The more I struggle against these emotions the faster I sink. I rake a hand through my hair and growl in frustration. These problems wouldn’t even exist if I would have just stayed strong. If I would have ignored what my friends were saying and maintained my boundaries.

As I make it further down the hill I catch a glimpse of the ocean between two buildings. I’m transported back to the beach with Ellie. Her full, pink lips stretched into a magnificent smile. The way she looked at me when she asked me to put sunscreen on her back. It was the kind of look that dared me to kiss her. And oh how I wanted to. But fear held me back then, just as it does now.

Memory after memory featuring Ellie flit through my mind as I walk down Wave Way. Suddenly I know with bone-deep certainty that it wouldn’t have mattered if Shaw and Fitz had never said a word in favor of her. I was a goner from the moment I laid eyes on her the day of our interview. Trying not to fall for Ellie is like fighting a rip current. A hopeless endeavor.

But even as I’m falling harder for her every day, I’m not sure I should be allowed to. Not when I’m related to a man who is so despicable it pains me to know his name much less share it. All I’ve known is arguing and manipulation. How can I be sure I’m not predisposed to behaving the same way as my parents?

My chest tightens at the thought of letting Ellie go, but I can’t fathom hurting her worse years from now. It’s too painful to even consider. I can’t be selfish; I have to stop things before they go any further and we end up like my parents. I don’t want us to end up hating each other.

The decision makes me feel physically ill, but I know it’s for the best. Ellie and I won’t have any kind of romantic relationship. And–for her safety as well as my focus–she won’t come with me to the U.S. Open.

Chapter twenty-nine

Ellie Hart

I stare out at the waves as I stir my iced coffee round and round.

“The more you stir, the faster your ice melts and your drink will be watered down,” Molly says as she slides a chocolate croissant in front of me.

“I don’t think I even want it. I just felt bad taking up space without paying,” I say on a sigh. “What’s the croissant for?”

“You look like you could use some chocolate.”

She sits in the seat across from me, staring at me with eyes as blue as the ocean view she’s now blocking. Her gaze is filled with concern.

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