Page 98 of Summer Ever After
“I only did because I thought there might be an emergency or something.”
“No emergency.”
“Then…why are you calling? Aren’t you in the middle of a tournament right now?”
“Yeah, I kind of am.”
“Please don’t tell me you’re calling from the seventh hole or something.”
He laughs, making my heart skip even more beats. “No, I’m done for the day. I just…” Everything pauses—his words, my breathing. The conversation dangles in silence until he finally says, “I made the cut. I’m going to play in round three tomorrow. Actually, I didn’t just make the cut. I finished the first two days in the top ten.”
I slowly drop, sitting on the edge of my bathtub. A mixture of feelings burst through me. I’m happy and proud of Walker. I’m confused but also flattered that he called to share his good news withme. But there’s also a dark side to my feelings, a disappointment. If Walker plays well, there’s no reason for him to hang around Sunset Harbor anymore. He’ll leave and go back to his old life, leaving me with all these feelings.
None of that should be a shock. I always knew it would end that way.
My chest lifts as I put on a brave face. “That’s awesome. You’ve been working so hard. I’m sure you’ll finish off the tournament really strong.”
“I hope so.” He goes quiet, leaving me to fill in the gaps in our conversation.
“It’s really exciting. You should be proud.”
“Golf is the loneliest sport, they say. I don’t know. I just…” His voice goes almost sad-like, “I wanted to tell someone. I wanted to tellyou.”
I bite my lip, trying to keep all my emotions and feelings under wraps. “I’m happy you called.”
“Are you? Because last time I wanted to talk to you, you left me standing alone in the parking lot, watching your taillights drive away.”
I comb my fingers through my hair, keeping them there, clutching a fistful of strands. “I was embarrassed. I mean, what do you say when you’re to blame for getting a guy punched in the face?”
“I think I got myself punched in the face. I shouldn’t have kissed you all spur of the moment like that.”
Like he shouldn’t have kissed me at all? Or just on the spur of the moment?
What does the answer even matter?
I drop my hand, letting my hair fall around my face. “Yeah, I definitely didn’t see it coming.”
“Tell you what,” his voice lightens, taking on a flirty quality, “I won’t kiss you again unless you ask me to.”
For real? I’m not even doing the whole trope thing anymore, but that’s the first place my mind went. I can’tnotnotice that he just used one of the greatest kiss lines of all time.
Stay focused, Jane. You’re stronger than a romance trope.
“I won’t ask you to kiss me again. So we’re good there.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m positive.”
“You’re not going to tell me again that I’m like a brother to you, are you? Because I’m not buying it. Nothing about how you kissed me back makes me believe you see me as a brother.”
Yeah, I guess the proof is in the pudding.
Or in how I passionately kissed him back.
I sit taller, fortifying myself for what I’m about to say. I’mglad I’m doing it over the phone. It would be a thousand times harder if I had to look into his handsome blue eyes for this conversation.
“I came home from the bar the other night and texted Capri. I told her about the kiss.”
