Page 52 of Summer Ever After
My stomach twists at the thought. “I didn’t make any of those putts. I should probably stay here and take some more.”
“Forget about your short game. It’s your mind game you need to focus on now, and I think a little time with your family will help with that.”
I hesitate, not sure if I should really go, but Pete pushes my arm, and before I overthink it, I jump up and head toward the adjoining gate.
Jane
Usually,I’m the star student at Monday morning administrative meetings, but today, I’m distracted.
I blame Capri and her texts.
My eyes drop to my lap, where my phone is safely hidden under the conference table. There’s another text from Capri about Tristan Palmer.
Capri
I don’t know why you’re freaking out. We’re just going on a bike ride to the lighthouse. It’s not a big deal.
I glance up at Mayor Barnes. He’s completely engrossed in a lively discussion with Blake about the Fourth of July cornhole tournament and how they’re going to manage the influx of teams who’ve already signed up to participate.
Deeming it safe, I quickly type out a response.
Jane
Stop downplaying everything that’s happening with you and Tristan. You’ve been in love with the man since you can remember. The fact that you two have been hanging out this weekend is HUGE. It’s okay to be excited about it.
Capri
Okay, fine. I’m excited about our bike ride later this afternoon.
What about you? Do you have a date lined up for tonight?
I take a quick peek at Mayor Barnes. He’s still going back and forth with Blake.
Jane
No date, but I am stopping by The Book Isle on my way home from work to get a pulse on Briggs Dalton. If all goes well, I’ll ask him out.
Capri
Since when did Briggs Dalton move back to the island?
Jane
He’s been here a little while, working in his mom’s bookstore. I’ll be sure to put any Sunny Palmer books I see front and center on the shelves. (winky-face emoji)
Capri
Don’t you dare!
I bite back my smile as I glance back up to the real conversation I’m supposed to be paying attention to.
Mayor Barnes taps the end of his pen on the desk as he talks. “I say we just start the cornhole tournament on Wednesday, July third, and then the championship game can be on the fourth.”
Blake frowns. “What if people have to work on the third and can’t play?”
After my disappointing date with Blake over the weekend,I have little patience for him today. The fact that we have to plan outhisagenda item during the meeting is annoying. He’s over parks and rec. He should be able to figure out the cornhole logistics on his own time. It’s not rocket science.
I tip my phone toward me, firing off another text.
