Page 80 of Second Swing
“Being loved by him is worth the pain of healing. Whatever it is, J-Babe, you can figure it out. Take your time and don’t run from what pulls your heart the most. I love you. I just got to the course, and I gotta go.”
“I love you too. Thank you for picking up.”
“Always.” I disconnect the call and wrap my arms around Clint’s neck, pressing a smooch to his lips before I pop my trunk and pull out my bag and extra things I brought for the cart.
“I’ll see you inside.” He nods to me as he takes the heavier bag between us inside—mine, of course. He also has a few things he needs to check on before we all get the day started. It kills me to know we won’t see each other much today, but I’m so excited for him. We’ve exceeded our original financial goal and have so many professional golfers ready to put in time at the Albatross Youth Academy with the kids.
The breakfast bar is the only place I want to be as I slather some warmed butter on my waffles, adding maple syrup. I swear, I could live off of waffles alone. Who’s going to judge me?
A player sidles up next to me, a little too close for my comfort, but we have a full buffet, and I just assume she wants to get in while she can.
“Can you believe he's here?” She leans in even closer, her red hair brushes against my shoulder, and I look at her for a moment. Her body is lithe and toned. She looks like how I hoped I would when I was a teen before I fell in love with my body.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Who are we talking about?” I asked, wanting to know because I can’t turn away chisme when it's right in my face.
“Clinton Morrison.” She bites her bottom lip, and I consider snatching her hair out. “I’ve had a crush on him for the longest time. He’s one of the reasons I started playing and why I came today. Can’t blame a girl for trying.” She laughs nervously.
I say the first thing that comes to my mind, “I think he may be taken.”
She gasps, eyes widening as if I offended her. “He’s been a bachelor for several years, I doubt he's with anyone. I’m willing to bet I can be his hole in one.” She has a devilish smirk, and I’ve heard enough.
Piling some eggs onto the plate, I add a few strawberries before I look at her again. “Well, good luck with that, but I wouldn't hold my breath on that bet of yours.” I’ve never been in this kind of situation before, and I’m taken aback by how uncomfortable I am. I also don’t want to create any issues.
“Areyoutrying to get with him?” she sneers. If I didn't have an amazing group of friends, I would probably say,This is why I can't find a girls’ girl,but I have them en masse, so I don't understand why she’s choosing to make this something that it’s not, one she's in by herself, because I don’t have to compete for what’s already mine.
Squinting my eyes, I give her a reluctant smile and walk off. I’m not going to feed into her nonsense. But I hear her scoff behind my back.Girl please.
There’s light chatter and excitement all throughout the dining areaof the event space. I take a deep inhale and relax as the scent of fresh cut grass lingers in the air. It's strange how just a couple of weeks ago it was snowing, and now it's a crisp cool morning, not a snowflake in sight. I set the plate on the table and lean against it, searching for Clint and finding him at the hot chocolate station. That man and his cocoa.
The same redhead scoots in close to him, and I smile as he takes a couple steps to the side. I can’t hear what they’re saying, but he says something, and I watch as her cheeks flush. Whether it's from something flirty or embarrassing, I'm not sure.
Pulling out one of the chairs, I sit and bite into a slice of bacon. Can one have a relationship with a bacon strip, cause damn this is good! Clinton kisses my head and sits down next to me. Always next to me and never in front of me, the intentional gesture makes me giddy.
“That woman just walked right up to me and asked me on a date. Actually, she asked if I wanted to play the extra three holes of the course.” I spit out the water I sipped just moments ago, and he chuckles as he grabs the other slice of bacon from our shared plate, biting into it. “Remind me to ask the chef where he gets this bacon from. But can you believe that?”
“Actually, yeah I can. Have you seen you?” I look to the ceiling and giggle.
“By extra three holes, do you think she means…” He trails off, not completely finishing his sentence.
“Oh, that's exactly what she means. The only extra three holes you’ll be playing will be mine.” My eyes widen at the words I let slip from my mouth.
“Oh, Dove, you have no idea how badly I want that.”
I can feel the heat creep up my neck as Glen steps to the front ofthe room and welcomes everyone. “We are so glad you all are here this morning. A big thank you to our sponsors, including two of our own Cypress Lakeians, one of whom is the owner of Albatross Youth Academy.” Glen chuckles at his nickname for those who live here, and a few other attendees do as well. “As you all know, this charity event is going to bring big changes to the Cypress Lake community, but most of all to our kids. The academy is going to give them access to things that may have been out of reach before, give them spaces to make friends in a safe environment, and build a community surrounding golf and safety. That’s what this is about. Creating a village for the next generation!”
Claps sound in the room, from myself and Clinton included. This was a big reason for me wanting to support this charity drive—every child should have access to a safe space that fosters growth.
Glen quiets the crowd before he continues. “We’ll be playing in teams of four, and each team will have a pro playing along with them. Luckily, we have even numbers, right?” he says before actually checking. Glen looks around the room before he makes eye contact with Tori, his assistant. She gives him a nod and Glen continues, “We will also be starting shotgun style. When you grab your swag bags at the door, which also include drink tickets and sponsored gift cards gifted for Shaken Tropes, you will see which hole you are starting at. Even a bad day is a good day if it's a golf day!” Everyone grabs their bags and clubs, making their way to the lush greens.
Penelope, our bar golf cart, is decked out in Shaken Tropes branding and has all the drinks one could want. I velcro down the drink of the day, a honey-and-citrus infused bourbon I've dubbedThe Mulligan. Touching the inside of the cooler, which is ice cold, I close it up and walk around to step inside.
“Mrs. Morrison! Mrs. Morrison?” Someone shouts in my direction, and when I turn my head it's the same red head who was chatting up my man earlier.
“God, what does she want now, and who the hell is she talking to?” I ask under my breath and consider turning around, because who the hell is Mrs. Morrison? Clinton isn't married, and there is no other Morrison here but him. I know damn well his mom isn’t here, but she can’t possibly be talking to me?Could she?
She makes her way to the cart and stops, looking me in the eye with an apology written across her face. “Mrs. Morrison, I wanted to apologize. I had no idea you were Clinton Morrison’s wife, and I shouldn’t have responded the way I did.”
I’m too stunned to speak, so she continues, her neck flushed, “I may have asked him on a date, and when I did, he said his beautiful wife wouldn't appreciate that very much. I shouldn’t have said something so risque. I am mortified.”
