Summer Ever After: A Sweet Romantic Comedy

Chapter 19

It’sthe first day of the U.S. Open.

The only thing worse than not making the cut in a golf tournament is not competing, and today, I’m not competing—like some kind of scared pansy.

I’ve been doing my best to stay busy so I don’t end up in front of the TV all day and night, feeling sorry for myself.

First, I worked out, then met Pete at the driving range and hit five buckets of balls until he ran out of things to say. Actually, he did say one last thing: ‘A bad attitude is worse than a bad swing.’ Advice that I deserved to hear.

Ever since Tuesday night, I’ve been in a bad mood.

It could have something to do with Jane and her plan to date every guy on this island. Well, every guy besides me. Just another thing I’m not competing in. And I can’t decide what I hate missing out on more: the U.S. Open trophy or Jane’s heart.

To be honest, I’m ticked about both.

And now she’s on a blind date with some guy I don’t know, which is worse than her going out with Dustin Pearce, because at least I knew Dustin wasn’t going to cut her up into tiny pieces and hide her body in his trunk, and the blind date guy probably will.

This isn’t me being dramatic. Jane is worried for her safety too.

I stopped by Tala’s house earlier and happened to see a worrisome text thread between Capri and Jane. I even snapped a picture of it over Capri’s shoulder to refer back to later. And by later, I mean now.

My eyes drop to my phone and the picture of Jane’s text to Capri.

Jane

Meeting a guy tonight named Brian at this pin. Here’s his profile picture so he can be brought to justice if you never hear from me again.

Capri

You got it, girl. Have fun!

I zoom in on the suspect”s profile picture. Even the best prosecutor would have a tough time convincing a jury to convict this guy based on his picture. The photo is dark, there’s a weird shadow over his face, and he’s wearing a hat. We’re going to need Brian’s DNA to really avenge Jane’s death.

What am I even talking about? I must be sick in the head. I rake my fingers through my hair, blowing out a heavy breath.

My phone dings with a new text alert. It’s from Beach Break Bar. My order is ready for pickup—that’s convenient since I pulled off the side of the road one minute from the restaurant, waiting for it to be done. I turn Stan’s golf cart back on—thankfully, I got it back from Dax earlier this week—and drive the short distance to the restaurant parking lot.

All the windows are open, letting in the summer breeze and letting out The Beach Boys song playing on the jukebox. Several tables are full with guests, but the real dinner rush hasn’t started yet.

I stop at the hostess”s desk. “I just got a text that my order is ready.”

“What’s the name?”

“Walker Collins.” At the mention of my name, someone moves at the bar, glancing over their shoulder. I swing my gaze and see a beautiful woman in a summery skirt and a T-shirt.

“I’ll go grab your order from the bar,” the hostess says, but I’m already walking there myself.

“It’s alright. I got it.”

Jane shoots me a reserved smile—the guarded one I hate, which happens to be her favorite one to give me. I have to work hard to get the real-deal smile, but when I do, it never disappoints.

“Are you stalking me?”

“I’m just picking up my dinner.” I take the seat beside her. “What about you? Shouldn’t you be on a blind date tonight?”

“Brian will be here any minute.”

“And then are you having dinner?”

“No, we’re not staying. Just meeting here. I don’t like to give strangers my address. It’s better if they pick me up at a public location.”

“But you’ll go on a date with strangers, as opposed to men you’ve known since middle school?”

Jane’s lips knit together. She knows I’m talking about her dating me.

“Oh, Walker”—Marlyss comes out of the kitchen—“I just saw your order. Let me grab it.”

“Thanks.” We both watch as she rounds the corner back to the kitchen.

“So, where’s this guy taking you on your date?”

“Somewhere near the mainland. We’re going fishing in his boat.”

“I don’t remember reading a fishing trope on your list.”

“I’m letting him teach me how to fish.” She flashes a tight smile. “He can wrap his arms around me, pull me close against him, his lips close to my ear as he whispers instructions.”

I tug on the collar of my shirt, suddenly feeling like it’s choking me.

Her smile grows. “It’s all very romantic.”

Yeah, if I was the one doing it to her, but thinking about Serial Killer Brian doing it makes me sick.

“Here you go.” Marlyss sets my bag of food on the bar in front of me. “One order of buffalo wings and a side of French fries. Do you want some ranch to go with the wings?”

“That would be great.”

“There’s some in the kitchen. I’ll be right back.”

The door opens, and we both turn to see who it is.

A man in his mid-forties, wearing a button-up shirt, pleated khakis, and a bald spot, glances around the restaurant as if he’s looking for someone.

“Is that your date?”

Jane’s lips turn into the cutest frown. “Could be. It’s hard to tell from his picture.”

“That or you got catfished.”

“I did not get catfished.”

“So you were planning on going on a date with a guy who’s, like, fifteen years older than you with a dad-bod?”

“Saying someone has a dad-bod is body shaming and offensive to dads everywhere. Besides, age-gap romance is totally a trope.”

The guy stops searching when he sees Jane at the bar. He does a little half-point at her with his index finger.

“That’s him, alright.” I can’t help my smile. This guy doesn’t pose a threat to me—unless, of course, he kills Jane.

She hops to a stand and greets him as he walks to the bar.

“Hi.”

“I wasn’t sure if I was here for you or not,” Brian says.

“Yep, I’m your girl.” Jane’s overdone smile covers her entire face.

“You’re older than I was expecting,” he says.

Creepy Brian likes to rob the cradle.

“Really?” Jane shifts her weight nervously.

His gaze travels to me. “Do I know you?”

“Oh, this is Walker. He doesn’t live here.”

“That’s right. Walker Collins, the golfer. I remember when you came on the scene about ten years ago. I remember because I had just turned thirty.” He pauses. “Or was it thirty-five? I don’t know. The older I get, I can never remember my age.”

“It’s tough.” I grin at Jane, noting the mortification crossing over her face.

“Well, we better get going.” She starts walking toward the door. “Got to get the night started.”

“It was good meeting you, Walker.”

“Likewise. Have fun, you two!” I give Jane a little wave, watching as they leave together.

Am I jealous? Heck no. Not of that guy.

More like worried for Jane’s well-being.

“Oh no! I missed seeing the blind date,” Marlyss says as she puts my ranch cups inside my to-go bag.

I point out the open window. “They’re outside. You can still see him.”

She stretches her neck to get a better view of them getting inside Brian’s golf cart. “He’s, like, my age.”

“Yep.”

“That’s not Jane’s type at all. Why is she going out with someone so much older than her?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

We keep watching as they sit in his cart, talking.

“Why aren’t they leaving yet?”

Maybe because she realizes this whole thing is ridiculous.

Jane’s entire countenance falls, and I feel myself tensing. If I have to go out there and fight the guy, I will. Without warning, she hops out of his cart and rushes back inside the restaurant, face as red as the devil.

Her focus is on the floor, avoiding me.

“Everything alright?” Marlyss asks when she steps up to the bar.

My eyes swing to the window and to Brian, still outside, waiting in his cart. “If he said something inappropriate to you”—I move to stand, as if I plan to go outside and knock him out—“I swear, I’ll?—”

“That’s not necessary.” She puts her hand on me, pushing me back into my seat. “He’s not my blind date.”

Marlyss’s brows fall. “He’s not?”

“No.”

“Then who is he?” I ask.

“Um…” She smooths her skirt, glancing away as if she’s embarrassed. “That’s Greg Tolley, who just moved into the Pattersons’ Airbnb. He’s here to pick up Marlyss’s daughter, Hailey, for her babysitting job tonight.”

I can’t help it. I lose it—like fall dead with laughter.

So does Marlyss.

How Jane is keeping a straight face right now, I do not know.

“Oh, my goodness!” Marlyss slows her laughs long enough to open the kitchen door and call out to her teenage daughter. “Hailey! Mr. Tolley is here to pick you up.”

“He just moved in. No one knows him yet, not even Marlyss, and her daughter is babysitting for him.” Jane eyes me and my laughter. “It could’ve happened to anyone.”

“But it happened to you.”

Her resolve finally cracks, and my favorite smile of hers lights up her entire face.

Then she laughs too.

“I’m so embarrassed!” My face falls into my hands as I shake my head.

“About what, specifically?” Walker laughs. “Getting stood up by Serial Killer Brian or confusing Mr. Tolley for your date?”

I drag my hands halfway down my face, revealing my eyes so I can peek at him. “Both!”

“I was kinda wondering, when he said he expected you to be younger.”

“Me too!”

“How did you finally realize he wasn’t your date?”

“It took a minute, but I think it was when he said his wife arranged this whole thing.”

“Dead giveaway.”

I eye him, suppressing a laugh. “Yeah, it set off some alarms.”

“So now what?” Walker shifts his gaze to the clock above the bar. “What time was your real date supposed to be here?”

“About forty minutes ago.”

I expect him to give me the pity grimace, but instead, his lips lift, and his eyes soften. “Any guy who stands up Jane Hayes is an idiot.”

How does he do that? How does he melt my whole soul with a simple, cliche statement like that?

“You don’t have to say that. I’m fine.”

“Who says I’m just saying that?”

Right now, meeting his gaze seems risky for my heart, so I casually glance around. “I should go.”

“Nope. Here’s what we’re going to do.” He pushes his bag of food between us and starts unpackaging it. “We’re going to order a couple of drinks and eat my wings.”

“Is this your way of trying to get me to go on a date with you?”

“Is it working?” There’s a shot of playfulness to his smile.

“No.” I bite back my own grin. “I’ll eat your wings, but only because I’m starving, and I have nothing else to do, not because this is a date.”

“Deal.” He flips open the Styrofoam, and the smell of buffalo sauce wafts through the air. “I’m actually happy for the company. Today was the start of the U.S. Open.”

“And you’re not playing.”

His eyes flip to me as he splits the food. “And I’m not playing. I’ve been trying to distract myself all day, just to forget.”

“How’s that going for you?”

“Terrible until now.” A charming smirk pulls at the edge of his lips, swooping my stomach. “I guess I have Serial Killer Brian to thank for that.”

“Why do you keep calling him that?”

“Because if he had shown up for your date tonight, he was totally going to kill you and put your dead body in his truck or throw you off the side of his fishing boat.”

I pick up a wing and dunk the tip into some ranch. “Probably, huh?”

“Why take the risk?”

“You know why,” I say with a mouth full of buffalo chicken.

“Right, you want to fall in love this summer. But why now? Why does it have to be this summer?”

“It’s not like I planned this for years. It just kind of happened, and I decided to roll with it. I mean, why not now?”

I’m lonelier than ever, and I’m pretty sure my parents are questioning whether or not they should stop touring and move back to the island so I won’t be alone. Now seems like the perfect time to improve my circumstances.

Walker nods but doesn’t say anything in response. He obviously thinks I’m crazy, along with anyone else who’s heard about my plan. I don’t blame them.

“I know this whole thing makes me seem desperate.”

“Are you desperate? And I’m not asking that in a judgmental way. I get the feeling. I’m desperate to get back to a place where I’m one of the top contenders in golf. If anyone gets desperation, it’s me.”

“I didn’t think I was desperate until I started doing this trope thing. It’s just…my career is set. I have a house and friends. I’m settled, and I’m happy on my own. It’s not like I need or want a man to fulfill me that way. But I’m ready to move on to the next step. I want the next step. I want someone to share in my happiness with me.” I shrug, not sure if any of this makes sense. “So I wouldn’t say I’m desperate. I’d just say I’m ready and sick of waiting around for love to happen when maybe I can do something about it myself.”

“I’m glad you’re happy, Jane. It sounds like you’re in a good place in life. That’s half the battle.”

“Are you happy?”

Walker scrunches his nose, scratching the back of his neck. “So the wings are good, huh?”

“Oh, come on. You’re not getting off that easily.” I push his shoulder. “You asked me if I was desperate. It’s only fair that you have to answer a tough question too.”

His head tilts, and his eyes squint like he doesn’t want to answer. But then he blows out a breath and concedes. “I haven’t been happy for a long time. I don’t even think I can pinpoint the last time I was truly happy. Maybe at the beginning of my career when I first went pro. There were no expectations. I was proud of myself at every tournament, no matter where I finished. Just happy to be there, you know?”

“The beginning of your career was a while ago. Kind of a long time not to be happy.”

“At first, you don’t really notice. You just think you’re going through a funk. Then, when you do notice, you set your sights on the wrong things, thinking that if you could just attain that next level or next status, then everything will be better. But once you get there, you realize you”re still not happy, and you start to wonder if you ever will be.”

“You will.” I smile, hoping it reassures him. “That’s what I like about life. No matter how bad things are, there are always more chances to start again.”

“That’s actually what I like about golf. It mimics life in that way. No matter what your score is, the next day, you have to go back to the first tee, start over again, and make yourself into something. That’s why I’m in Sunset Harbor. I’m starting over at the first tee box, where everything began, and trying to make something out of myself again.” His lips push downward. “I just feel bad for you.”

My forehead creases. “Why?”

“Because you’re seeing me at my worst. At my lowest low. When I’m the most pathetic.”

“You’re not pathetic. Everybody goes through ups and downs.”

“I’ve been on the downswing for a while now.”

“Unpopular opinion, but I like this version of Walker Collins.”

“Oooh, that is an unpopular opinion. Everyone else likes the winning golfer who gives a big fist pump when the ball falls into the hole for an eagle.”

“You can still be that guy again. You have nowhere to go but up.” I sit taller, bursting with positivity. “And when you win the golf fundraiser in a few weeks, you’ll be able to show everybody how hard you’ve been working and how far you’ve come.”

“Gosh, you’re kind of a cocky partner—already assuming we’re going to win.”

“I think everybody assumes you’re going to win. No one has any thoughts about me as your partner.”

“I do.” He pauses for dramatic effect, letting his words work their magic. “I guess that’s one good thing about where I’m at in life. Coming to Sunset Harbor has given me a chance to reconnect with you.”

Oh, there goes Walker’s flirtatious smile. I knew it was only a matter of time until he whipped it out again.

“We never connected in the first place, so technically, we can’t reconnect.”

“Are you sure? Because since I arrived, I’ve singlehandedly made you my confidant by telling you stuff I’ve never told anyone else.”

“That’s a lot of pressure,” I joke. “I’m not sure I’m comfortable with that role in your life.”

Walker’s tone turns low and sultry. “Is there a different role you’d be more comfortable with?”

“My goodness!” I shake my head, laughing. “You are a terrible flirt.”

“And here I thought I was good at it.”

His cocky smile makes a mess of my heart, and that’s when I know I have to leave, or I won’t make it out alive. I grab my purse and stand.

“Oh, don’t leave!” he whines. “I was just joking. I promise I won’t flirt with you any more.”

“You’re not even capable of keeping that promise.” I sling my purse strap over my shoulder. “But even if you were, I would still have to go. I told Capri I’d stop by tonight and say goodbye before she leaves town tomorrow morning.”

“So you’re choosing my sister over me?”

His words steal my breath for one quick second.

But I meet his sparkling blue eyes with the one truth I’ve known my whole life. “I’ll always choose Capri over you.”