Page 137 of Unexpected Shot
“When'd you do it?” I ask.
“Saturday,” Maddox explains. “Your parents came andwatched Ace. I had a whole thing planned. Super romantic. I went all out.”
Maddox goes on to tell me the high points of his proposal to my sister, which included the room where they had their first night together. While that was a detail I really never needed to know about, even though I already knew it happened, I can't help but be ecstatic for my sister.
She is absolutely glowing when she reaches a hand for me. “I’m getting married.”
“Again,” I joke before walking to her and bringing her in for a hug. “At least I like this one.”
“For the record, I’m a big fan of your wife, too.”
I look back over at Shelby, who’s now joking with Maddox about something. I know I’m smiling, but I can’t help it. The sight is perfect. Shelby laughing with my future brother-in-law, all while making faces at Ace before she picks him up. My sister sitting back, getting teary eyed again as she watches her best friend—the one who is officially her sister now—interact with her son. The five of us together, smiling and laughing and enjoying each other’s company.
This could be the rest of our lives. Sunday dinners. Impromptu breakfasts. Random summer days when they come over to hang out at my pool.
I know I didn’t get into this situation on purpose, but I’m damn glad I’m here now.
“What are you watching?”
I can count on one hand how many times I’ve come into a room and seen Shelby watching something on her phone. If she’s in wind-down mode, she’s either buried in her Kindle or pretending not to fall asleep with something on the television. So it shocks me to see her glued to her phone. I’m not sure she even realized I walked into our bedroom until I said something.
“Stu sent me over ourBack Nineepisode,” she says. “Figured I’d watch it and make sure I didn’t say anything too out of pocket.”
I smile as I put her water jug down on her bedstand—because despite the million tumblers that have taken over nearly every horizontal surface in our house, my wife does not drink enough water. “Anything crazy so far?”
“Not yet, but we haven’t made it to the last hole.”
I crawl into bed with her and move over so we can watch together. Before I know it, I’m just as lost as she is, watching us banter back and forth on camera, Stu doing an amazing job of catching every little interaction between us.
“You know, and I’ll risk the possibility of no sex tonight for saying this, but you’re really good at this stuff.”
“Ugh, that’s the unsexiest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
I know she’s teasing, which is why I can sneak in to kiss her shoulder as the episode cuts to our play on eighteen. “I’m serious, Shelby. I can understand your long disdain for media and interviews. But you’re hilarious. Dry, but that’s what people really like these days. But also honest. Every conversation we had about how we approach the game, it was interesting. A different take than what I normally talk about when I have male players on. If you wanted to?—”
“Stop right there,” she says, pausing the video. “Did I have more fun doing this than I expected? Yes. Does that mean I’m ready to forfeit my career for a new one on camera? Hell no.”
“I’m not saying that,” I say, resuming the video. “I’m just saying, if you and I wanted to spin something off between the two of us, I think there’s something there.”
She doesn’t immediately reject my idea, which I consider a win. “I’ll think about it. But, how would you have time? This is a full-time job, on top of the other full-time job you actually have golfing.”
“I’d figure something out,” I say, not letting myself ride the train of thought that doing social media brings me a hell of a lotmore joy than a grueling weekend in August, required merely because I need to raise my money standing during the last few months of the golf season. Or kissing a sponsor or tournament director’s ass because they think they’re in control of our lives.
“Oh!” I exclaim. “This is my favorite part.”
We go back to watch the eighteenth hole, also known as when I tricked Shelby into kissing me.
“Okay, Belle, I have to know. Did you miss the putt on purpose?”
I didn’t think about it then—I was too excited about the chance to kiss her—but since that day, I’ve wondered about it a lot. Did she actually miss it? Or maybe, just maybe, did she want to kiss me too?
I look up at her, wanting to read every microexpression and movement I can. But all I get is a nonchalant shrug, and eyes glued to the phone.
“Not sure. Guess I just read it wrong.”
Oh, she did… She so fucking did.
I bring her into my arms as I watch our kiss, and if I didn’t know it before, I do now.
