Page 95 of Plays Well With Others

This was such a bad idea. I have to fix this situation now. I reach for her, tug her into my arms. “I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to make you cry. I just want the best for you. I want you to be happy. I want you to be with someone who treats you like the goddess you are. That’s all,” I say desperately, holding her close.

She sniffles against me. “I know.”

“I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m a dick.”

“It just caught me off guard, because it had nothing to do with what we were talking about—mini golf and all,” she says into my chest, and she has a point. She doesn’t know that I was thinking about how I felt that day about her stupid ass of an ex.

“You’re right. It didn’t. It was just on my mind,” I say, since that’s true enough.

“But it’s a legitimate question,” she says softly.

“No. It’s not fair. It’s not right. We all make stupid relationship choices. Quinn was bad for me, and I stayed with her. She got on my case all the time, and I still stayed with her. I think I was just frustrated for you that day we played, because I’vealwayswanted you to have everything you want,” I tell her, finally admitting some of the truth.

Another sniffle. Another quiet sigh. Once more, she nods against me, then lifts her face, and swipes her cheek.

She looks down at my shirt. “No stain this time. Fewer tears. Progress?”

I shake my head. “It’s not progress when I’m the one who made you cry.”

She sets a hand on my chest, takes a shuddering breath. “If it makes you feel any better, I don’t think there was anyone or anything that would have stopped me from marrying him. I was a girl who wanted romance. I grew up watching movies and shows with gallant heroes who swept the heroine away. That was Edward. That’s what I saw in him. He was a fantasy. I was twenty-four when I met him, Carter. I was young and starry-eyed. And I said yes to the fantasy. And that’s all it ever was. Not a single moment was ever real,” she says, her tone emotional yet a touch detached. But in a good way. Like she’s moving on. Like she’s seeing her past for what it was.

My heart aches for her. I hate that she hasn’t known what it’s like when someone cares, truly cares about her. “I want you to have that someday,” I say, meaning it, though it hurts to think of her with another man even in a someday far away.

Hurts like hell.

She gives a resigned shrug. “Me too. Someday,” she says with a sad smile. Her smile turns warmer, and her hand presses harder against my chest. “But I know what I’m worth now. You’re teaching me. You’re showing me. I know what real is…because of you.”

My throat tightens, swimming with emotions fighting to break the surface. But emotions that have no place in her presence. Or, likely, mine either.

“Someday, baby,” I say, then, since we’re still in this cocoon of a car with tinted windows and no one watching, I cup the back of her head and press a gentle kiss to her forehead.

Tender, caring, full of promise. And apologies too. Everything about this moment is so damn true for me.

When I break the kiss, she smiles again. “That felt real.”

Solemnly I meet her gaze. “Good. Because it was.”

Then, because she’s been so honest, I give her some of the same treatment she’s given me. “That’s why I was a competitive beast that day. I needed to not focus on how much I hated your ex. So I played like that was all I cared about.”

“Thanks for telling me,” she says.

“I’ll be casual today. I promise I won’t be a beast,” I say.

She lifts a brow. “Except in the bedroom?”

That’s my girl. Finding a way to turn a moment around. “That’s a promise.”

* * *

We check in at the clubhouse, and the clerk hands us a scorecard and a pencil. “And everything is covered by Mr. Blaine,” the guy says.

“I appreciate that,” I say. It was wholly unnecessary, but far be it from me to tell Wilder Blaine how to run his business.

When we head to pick clubs from the rack, I hear the voice of the man himself a few feet away. “Of course. Things come up,” he says, uber professional.

I glance over to see Wilder facing away from us, holding his daughter’s hand while he talks on the phone.

“It’s understandable. Take care of your mother. I’ll be fine.”

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