Page 43 of The Backup Groom
“Thanks, Coach.”
“My pleasure,” Scotty said.
The boy walked toward the other side of the court toward a woman who must have been his mom. She ruffled her son’s hair before wrapping her arm around him.
“Awe, Mom,” the boy whined.
Scotty picked up the tennis balls scattered around the court and dropped them in a bucket.
I felt kind of creepy watching him, not letting him know I was there, but I honestly didn’t know what to say to him. Why did it feel like I had betrayed him?
“How long are you going to stand there and spy on me?” Scotty asked, his back turned as he continued to pick up balls without looking my way.
How had he known I was there?
I never once saw him look over.
The question made me giggle in surprise. “I’m not spying, I’m observing, and my first observation is that you have eyes in the back of your head because I didn’t think you saw me.”
Scotty laughed, and tossed the last ball in the hopper.
His laughter was a good sign.
Maybe he wasn’t mad at me.
“I’m just surprised to see you here,” I continued. “How do you even have time for a second job with all the hours you put in at your business?”
Scotty set the tennis ball hopper on the ground and walked toward me, stopping on the other side of the fence. “Oh, this is not a job. I’m a volunteer. A couple of other people and I give free lessons to low-income families two days a week.”
The man melted my heart right there on the spot.
There was nothing more lovely and endearing than a person doing something for another human being without expecting anything in return.
“Wow, Clark, you really are a superhero,” I said.
“Nah,” he said. “I’m giving back to the community. I’m sure you do the same when you have the chance.”
“I wouldn’t mind at all, but I’mnotdoing it, that’s the difference.”
Scotty shrugged. “Well . . . it’s never too late.”
“True . . .” For some reason, I felt guilty that I wasn’t doing more for others. Add that to the guilt after Scotty caught me drinking coffee at Starbucks and I wasn’t in the best place, mentally.
I had to say something about that; it was bugging me the more I thought about it.
“I’m sorry for cheating on you,” I blurted out with no context.
“Don’t be,” Scotty said, like he knew exactly why I was apologizing. “For the record, I had coffee at Starbucks last week. And I enjoyed a mocha from Peet’s last month.”
I eyed him suspiciously. “Are you serious?”
“Absolutely. Sure, I like to frequent the local, independent coffeehouses when I have time to support them. But I still get coffee at Starbucks and Peet’s when I meet friends who are not near my coffee shop.” He slid the racket into his bag, then grabbed the tennis ball hopper and met me on the other side of the fence, closing the gate behind him. “Besides, I wouldn’t be where I am without them.”
“Why do you say that?” I asked.
Scotty shrugged. “Before I opened my place, I worked for Starbucks for three years and at Peet’s for five, eventually becoming a manager there. I learned the ins and outs of the coffee business from both places before venturing out on my own. I’ll be eternally grateful to them for that. As for you, you can drink coffee wherever you want. I would never judge you for that.”
I studied him for a moment. “But when you saw me at Starbucks, you looked a little disappointed. I saw it in your eyes.”
