Some part of Wells wanted to break out the bitterness. Now that I’m winning, you want lunch, huh? Nah, I’ll pass. But his eyes were a little more open tonight. Maybe clarity was a side effect of ripping out his own heart and throwing it into the ocean. It was possible—more than possible, really—that Wells was the one who’d been doing the wronging in the relationship with his mentor. Not the other way around. And if that was the case, he needed to own it.
“Yeah, Buck. I’d like that.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Josephine polished a pint glass and set it on the wooden shelf behind the register, turning it so the course logo was facing forward. Without pausing for thought or rest, she flew to the next box of inventory, slid the X-Acto knife out of her back pocket, and sliced the tape, ripping the cardboard flaps wide. And did her best not to stare at the growing mountain of flowers, teddy bears, and bubble bath sets sitting just inside the door. Every time she turned around, another gift was being delivered. Accepting them was easy, but allowing herself to interpret their meaning was harder. She wasn’t there yet.
So she kept stocking. Kept pushing.
She was so close to having the whole shop set up. They’d open the doors tomorrow.
Right on time.
She wouldn’t have spare moments to think about what was happening in Georgia. In fact, she didn’t even want to know. It was day three of the Masters. Jim had let it slip on the phone this morning that Wells had made the cut and Josephine had been almost alarmed by the rush of giddy pride that had rocketed through her bloodstream, but beyond that, she didn’t even know his current score. That was fine. She needed to focus on the shop.
He didn’t want her there. Otherwise she would be in Georgia.
End of story.
But as much as Josephine wasn’t in Georgia, Wells was in Florida with her in so many ways. As agreed upon, half of his winnings from Torrey Pines had been transferred to Josephine from his accountant yesterday, and after reeling over her new financial security, she’d promptly enrolled in a health insurance plan. As soon as she paid the first premium, she’d burst into noisy tears. The upheaval of relief made Josephine wonder if she’d suppressed her worry over not having insurance for so long, she’d gotten used to living with the stress. And that realization was something she desperately wanted to share with Wells, which left her very conflicted.
Mad at him. Missing him. Mad at him. Grateful.
Josephine finished the glassware display and moved on to stacking boxes of golf balls, arranging them according to brand. When the letters on the box started to blur a little, she remembered her glucose monitor had been going off for fifteen minutes and forced herself to pop some tabs, chewing almost resentfully.
Breaks gave her time to think, and she really, really didn’t want to think.
Thinking made the center of her chest feel like the Grand Canyon, just a yawning, arid place with acres of scorched earth and sharp plants.
Tell me you fucking love me.
For some reason, that was the part of their argument she replayed most. Because it was so Wells. So like Wells to demand something delicate with the roar of a king. That’s what he’d been doing all along. Shouting his insecurities at her and disguising them as arguments. And she loved him so much for it. She loved him so much she could cry enough tears to fill a lake, just for missing his presence. The scruff of his chin, the scent of his deodorant, the roughness of his hips, those epiphanies that struck his brown eyes when she said something that made sense on the golf course, his villainous frown. His deep voice, his grudging smile. The way he praised her, challenged her, coveted her. Spending a single second missing those things felt like a year.
And apart from that, apart from the razor-edged pining in her chest, she wondered if maybe, just maybe, he’d truly done the right thing. She was hurt and bitter and still in shock from the man she loved banishing her, but the Golden Tee would be empty right now if Wells hadn’t sent her away. It would be a shell. Or maybe the course would be showing it to prospective replacements. People who wanted to give it a different name, maybe do a whole new renovation.
That would have killed her.
Missing Augusta was killing her, too. Slowly and painfully. Their cable had been installed this morning at the shop and the desire to turn on the television was high. But no, she was too afraid to find out he’d backslid and needed her.
Not when she wasn’t there to help.
Josephine unstacked another box and got to work unpacking it. She was so absorbed in her task that she didn’t hear Jim and Evelyn arrive. It wasn’t until her mother planted a kiss on her cheek that she joined them in reality.