Page 93 of Sweet Spot
At the course, I park and run out to the area between the warm-up area and hole one. Fuck, I hope she hasn’t already teed off.
I weave between players and spectators, tournament officials in their matching polo shirts. I finally spot her hanging back, all by herself.
“Keira,” I call out. “Keira.” I reach her, out of breath and shaky from adrenaline. “Thank God. I made it.”
She shakes her head slowly. “It doesn’t matter. I’m not playing.”
“What?”
“I can’t do it.” She shrugs looking defeated. “Not like this. I’m not even close to one hundred percent, more like fifty. Weak, anxious, in my head—”
“I love you.”
Her eyes widen, and her lips part in surprise, so I repeat it. “I love you so much. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before. I was scared that I’d fail you somehow and you’d hate me. Still am scared, if I’m being honest.”
“But . . .” Her mouth opens and closes like an adorable baby fish.
“I was a bad husband. My priorities were fucked up, and I stopped trying. I gave up. It was easier than admitting it wasn’t what I wanted anymore. I swore I’d never do that to anyone else. I tried to keep you at arm’s length because I knew that, if I let you in here”—I place a hand over my heart—“I’d never be able to walk away. So, I pushed you until you walked away from me, and I’ve hated myself every moment since.”
She smiles the tiniest bit. This stunning woman that’s somehow become more important than anything else.
“You needed me to push you, to show you that you were capable of doing anything you set your mind to, but I wasn’t expecting you to push me the same way. I’m in. All in. Without you, nothing else matters.”
A guy in a white polo shirt with the country club logo walks up behind Keira and says her name. She looks from me to him and then back to me. I can see the panic on her face and feel the anxiety bouncing off her.
“If you don’t feel up to this today, I’ll spend every day for as long as it takes helping you get back here. Say the word and we’re out of here. But, baby, you can do this. This is your destiny.”
I take out the note from Pop, unfold it so she can read what it says, and hand it to her. “I want you to have this. My grandpa gave it to me after my disastrous pro debut. It’s a Jack Nicklaus quote that he said fairly often. I carried it every time I played after that, but I never really felt the weight of his message until today. I have a hundred faults, but I promise I’ll keep working to be better for you. So I can push you when you need it and help you get everything you want and deserve.”
“It’s almost time.” Polo guy smiles and nods for her to approach the tee box.
“Just one more second,” I tell him and take her gloved hand, running my thumb over the leather. “I love you. You can do this. You don’t need me, you never did, but I’m glad as hell you found me anyway.”
I can’t read anything on her face but shock that I just dropped my heart at her feet and nerves that she isn’t in any shape to play golf today.
“Keira,” the tourney dude says again in a quiet, serious tone as he moves to stand at her side.
She nods to polo asshat. “I’m coming.”
Lifting Pop’s note, she glances back at me. “Thank you for this.” She moves toward the tee box, turning before she steps onto the grass. “You’re staying, right?”
“Nowhere else I’d rather be.”
She smiles and marches up to the tee box as I move over to watch with the other spectators.
And it’s exactly where I plan to stay, right here on the sidelines making sure she gets anything and everything she wants for as long as she’ll let me.
35
Keira
I findLincoln standing to the side, exactly where he said he’d be, and he nods encouragingly. I wave to the crowd and then tee my ball. I stare down the fairway to the flag and visualize the flight of my ball and the exact spot for it to land that would put me in the best position for this par four.
I take a few practice swings back from my ball and exhale a long breath. With it, I push out all the negative thoughts that have plagued me. I’m not in top shape today. Everyone here knows it, but they don’t know how much I want this.
Lincoln does.
I glance once more at him before I take my place. With him cheering me on, I feel unbeatable. He fuels my desire to push through, and I know that, win or lose, I’m going to give it everything I have.
