Page 43 of Fore-Ever Yours

Alison puts her sunglasses back up. “Just stating a fact.”

“Well, if you’re done checking out the hot caddy, our man just got a birdie,” I say, nodding toward Matthew.

I capture a quick photo as Matthew and Nick fist bump.

As the tournament continues, Matthew manages to score one winning shot after another, all the way to the 18thhole. Whatever concerns he had this morning about sponsors, coastal winds, and anything else, he didn’t let anyone see it today.

If he plays the same way for the rest of the tournament and finishes in the top ten, he’ll qualify for the Summit Pro Tour card. And my time with him will be over.

Chapter 16

Matthew

DayfouroftheBluewater Championship. I’m currently ranked at number ten, with nine under par total. It’s a good place to be, but I have to be on top of my game in order to earn my Summit Pro Tour card. I missed it last year, but a top ten today will get me there.

I take a deep breath. It’s just me, my club, and the ball.

Hole 1, par-5. Let’s see if I can get it less than that. The cool sea air fills my lungs, and I adjust my grip on the club. The handle feels rough under my palms, familiar and comforting. My heart thumps in my chest like it’s trying to pound its way out, but I steady it with a deep breath.

Focus, Matthew.

My swing back is smooth, and for a moment, there’s pure silence before the club connects with the ball in a satisfying thwack. It soars through the pale-blue sky before disappearing in the distance.

An applause echoes around me, but I’m not satisfied. It wasn’t the perfect hit—the ball curved slightly to the right. I’ll just have to make up for it in my short game. My strong suit.

We stride down the fairway as a flock of seagulls fly overhead and a symphony of waves crash nearby. Nick hands me the four iron as I approach where my ball landed, just off the fairway.

“Wind’s tricky, hit it soft.”

My hands tighten on the club, then I swing. The ball arcs through the air and lands on the green, rolling toward the hole. The crowd claps as it comes to a stop. One putt and it’s in.

The slight breeze tingles against my skin as a hush falls over the crowd. I glance once more toward the cup before focusing back on the ball.

With precision and force, I hit it and watch as it sails smoothly over the short grass toward the pin before dropping in with a clink. That’s an eagle. It was a great shot, starting off strong.

The audience cheers while I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. One hole down, seventeen to go. I redeemed myself on that one. I gotta keep it up.

As we move to the next hole, Beth catches my attention in the crowd. I watch her as she laughs at something my mom says, her honey-rich laughter ringing out above the murmur of the crowd. My sister tugs on her arm and points to me, causing Beth’s cheeks to flush with a subtle hint of pink.

I forget the game for a moment and get lost in the sight of her. She fits in seamlessly with them, like she’s meant to be here. I see a glimpse of what my life could be like if we weren’t pretending. If she feels the same way I do, if this were real. A life full of shared laughter, banter…and love.

“Eyes on the ball, Romeo,” Nick teases, nudging me.

I chuckle, redirecting my mind back to the green. I should be focusing on the game, not daydreaming about Beth.

The noise dies down as I prep for my next shot. Line up my feet, square my shoulders, and release. I hit it just right, sending it flying straight toward the hole. A cheer erupts from the crowd, but all I hear is Beth’s voice cheering me on.

Hole after hole goes by, and time blurs around me as I focus on the movement from my body to the club to the ball. Though my game isn’t perfect, it’s strong. As long as I keep up this pace today, I’ll be on my way to the Summit Pro Tour, which I’ve been working toward my whole career.

That’s why we started this ruse. Even if I don’t want to continue it, what choice do I have? I’m so close to getting what I want. Travis is happy with the press, sponsors are ecstatic at the response of Betthew, and my exposure from the Summit Pro Tour will only up it, making everyone happy. I have to keep my eyes on the prize.

Hole 10, a tricky par-4. I step up to the tee and glance at where the pin lies in the distance, tucked between two sand traps. I strike the ball, but my drive hooks left, burying itself in a bunker.

No.

Nick jogs over, calm. “We’ve got this. Pop it out. Just like Sarasota’s hole 4.”

It’s time for redemption. I manage to get it out of the bunker and onto the green, ten feet out.

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