Page 118 of Unexpected Shot
“For what it’s worth, I am sorry I jumped on your back and beat you up.”
“An apology?” I throw my hand over my chest like an offended church lady. “If I’d known an apology was coming, I would’ve made you come on the show years ago.”
The death glare she sends me only makes me laugh. As Shelby approaches her ball, all I can do is hang back and watch. I’ve always been in awe of her swing, even when we were kids. It’s so natural. Smooth. And it looks like she’s now trying to use more of her lower body rather than just her arms. It’s made her even better, which I didn't know was possible.
“Nice shot, Belle. Clean.”
"Thanks," she says as she walks back to the cart. “Can I ask you a question now?”
I have no idea what’s about to come out of her mouth, but she knows the cameras are rolling. So this could be blackmail material, or she’s so comfortable she’s asking me questions she truly wants answers to. And right now, I don’t care which. I just know Shelby and I are having the best conversation we’ve had maybe in our lives.
"Shoot.”
“Why do you call me that?”
“Belle?” I ask as we drive forty yards forward to my ball.
“Yeah. For those at home watching, he’s called me Belle since literally the first time we met when I was six years old. And to this day, I’ve never known why. Newsflash: It’s not because I resemble, or act like, the Disney Princess.”
I laugh, but at the same time feel a hint of embarrassment coming over my cheeks as I pull the cart to a stop. “When I was little, I always had trouble remembering people's names. It took me weeks each year to remember everybody in my new class at school. One of my teachers told me to make a game or a rhyme to help me remember. A mnemonic device of sorts. So, when we met, you were Shelby, Shell-Belle, Belle. I guess it just stuck.”
Her face softens as she listens to my words. "I never knew that about you."
I try to shrug it off, but I can’t. Because it’s not the words she’s saying to me. It’s everything. This moment. This ease. It’s the perfect day. And while I’m glad I have the cameras set up to capture everything, I’m also mad that they’re here, because I selfishly don’t want to share this moment with anyone.
“All right, folks, it's all come down to this,” Shelby, my apparent commentator wife says. “Eighteenth hole. Bragging rights on the line forever. Can Beau Devereaux sink this putt? Or will he lip out and forever be remembered as the guy who lost to his wife?”
“Never!” I exclaim, bending down to line up my putt.
It’s pretty straight forward, but I’m farther back than Shelby, so I’ll be going first. I have to make it to have a chance to win. If Shelby one-putts, which she should, she’ll win. But there’s a chance she could miss, which puts more pressure on me.
I take my time and tap my ball toward the hole. It’s a fast green, so I barely touched it, but it’s rolling…rolling…
“Hell yeah!” I yell, deciding that my victory celebrationincludes using my putter like a sword and I’m a knight in a duel. “That’s what I’m talking about.”
“Congrats, you made a putt,” Shelby deadpans. “Now move. You’re in my line and I need to tap this in to win.”
I step out of the shot, but it’s me and it’s Shelby, so I need to mess with her a little. “You sure you have the read? I’d hate for you to be in your head about this.”
She gives me a look that I pray Stu caught on camera, because it is the most quintessential Shelby looking at me like she wants to murder me face. “I’ve got it.”
I don’t know where this idea comes from, but it’s brilliant, and I need to act on it immediately.
“If you’re so sure, then why don’t we make a little bet?”
Shelby stands up and pops her hip out, clearly curious about my terms. “Whatcha thinking?”
"Oh, I don't know." I pretend to kick an invisible blade of grass on the green. “If you make it, I’ll make you dinner every night for a week."
"Really?" she asks. "You haven’t cooked for me once.”
“True, but in my defense, we've only been married a few weeks.”
“But in that time, have you ever cooked for me?”
“Touché."
She thinks about it for a second. “I accept. However, you have to make sure it’s a week when we’re both home. It doesn’t count if one of us is at a tournament.”
