“If Josephine is coming back, she’ll have a lot of work to do before then . . .”
Wells’s brows snapped together. “If she’s coming back?”
He could sense Jim’s discomfort without even seeing the older man. “Haven’t you talked to Josephine about this?”
No.
No, he’d been too busy trying to pretend they weren’t living on a deadline.
Not knowing how to answer Jim’s question without sounding like a selfish asshole—and that’s exactly what he was—Wells dodged. “Did she . . .” He shook his head. “I mean, obviously she’s going back to Rolling Greens, right? It’s her place. It’s her . . . heart.”
God help him, he sounded pathetic, and he didn’t care one bit.
“I’m not so sure, Wells . . .” Jim trailed off. “I mean, it’s the Masters, right? You need her.”
The numbness crept into every corner of Wells’s body as the crux of the matter washed over him like a ten-story wave. “She doesn’t think I can do it without her.” His legs wouldn’t hold him anymore and he dropped into one of the chairs. “And why would she think any different when everyone has been telling her for weeks that she’s responsible for my comeback. I reinforced that. Didn’t I? I leaned on her too much and now . . . she’s going to give up the Golden Tee to caddie for me. Is that what’s happening here?”
Wells was going to be sick. You selfish piece of garbage.
Jim broke into his shame spiral. “She’s trying to get an extension from the course—”
“An extension won’t matter. It’s only temporary. After the Masters, it’ll be another tournament. Another one after that.” It hurt to breathe. “She’s too loyal to leave me.”
Just like she’d always been.
Standing on the sidelines, his stubborn fangirl to the bitter end, no matter how badly he played. Holding up her sign. Wearing his discontinued merchandise. Rain or shine. Of course she wasn’t going back to Palm Beach to leave him to compete in the Masters alone, especially after his continual bad behavior when she missed two measly days in California. How had he not seen this? How had he not recognized the pressure bearing down on Josephine?
No. He couldn’t let this happen.
He wouldn’t let the woman he loved give up her dream out of loyalty to him.
Otherwise, he was never worthy of that loyalty in the first place.
“I’ll make sure she’s home,” Wells said, raggedly, ending the call.
And then he spent the night planning the hardest conversation of his life.
*
Wells wasn’t in bed when Josephine woke up.
She frowned into the pillow, rolled over to stretch her sore muscles. If they continued having sex at this rate, she was canceling her gym membership.
“You don’t have a gym membership,” she yawned to herself, sitting up. Wanting to sneak one more look at the pictures her father had sent of the Golden Tee under construction, Josephine picked her phone up off the nightstand and scrolled through her camera roll, her stomach a combination of dread and excitement. More than anything, she wanted to show these pictures to Wells. He would be happy for her. He’d be interested and he’d probably have great suggestions, too, but . . . she was avoiding the conversation.
Not only with Wells.
She was avoiding it with herself.
She’d written an email to the owner of Rolling Greens asking for an extension on opening the doors of the new and improved Golden Tee, but although the owner had been following her journey with Wells on television, he’d apologetically declined. In fact, he’d seemed even more eager for Josephine to return to Palm Beach, now that she had some notoriety behind her, hoping it would earn him some clout with club members.
What was she going to do?
She didn’t know. Every day, she woke up thinking the answer would have made itself clear, but she quickly became absorbed by Wells, by the magic they made.
By love.
Their relationship wasn’t some temporary flight of fancy. It was built on rock. And she became more and more positive of that every minute they spent together. They’d seen each other at their worst and best, and they supported each other unconditionally. This man was the one great love of her life and she wanted to stay with him a little longer. She just needed to make sure Wells was solid and wouldn’t self-destruct at the first sign of adversity.
Then she would go.
Yeah right.
She looked at the completed construction pictures on her phone one last time, no choice but to acknowledge the wistfulness in her chest, before setting it back on the side table, facedown. Quickly, she finger-combed her hair and pulled on Wells’s discarded T-shirt, detouring to the en suite bathroom to brush her teeth before venturing out to the living room.