31. Gracelyn
CHAPTER 31
GRACELYN
T ry as I might, I don’t manage to get out of the golf outing. Even after confessing how terrible I am at sports.
“Gracie, you can drive the cart. C’mon, it’ll be fun!” Mack’s dad ushers me out of the house amidst my protests.
And that’s how I end up being Mack’s golf cart driver and caddy. Emma Kate and Tinsley have another cart, and Mack’s parents share a third. We’re only on hole five and I’m already bored out of my mind.
Playing golf—or rather, spectating—makes watching paint dry seem downright exciting.
The cart girl motors by and Mack’s dad flags her down, buying a round of drinks for everyone. I opt for a bottled water, as does Mack. Tinsley, Emma Kate, and Mack’s mom all order mimosas, and Mack’s dad gets two shots of bourbon to throw in his iced tea.
Pretty sure the alcohol’s not going to improve anyone’s golf game. Maybe that’s how Mack managed to win two back-to-back tournaments. Everyone else was drunk.
At least the sun’s shining because the air’s chilly, especially with the light breeze. I’m a little bit cold, despite my chunky sweater and cream leggings.
“Atta boy!” Mack’s dad whoops as he stripes his ball straight down the fairway. “Look at ‘em go!”
I have no idea where the ball lands, but he seems happy about it. Must have been a good shot.
Mack’s mom hits next. Her ball flies a decent way, but she shakes her head and curses under her breath. Clearly not happy about the shot.
“Emma Kate, go on. We haven’t got all day.” Mack’s dad waves at Emma Kate. Tinsley elbows her, stopping her cell phone scroll.
“Sorry, Daddy.” Emma Kate pops a cute little pout and sidles up to the tee box. She hits the ball firmly and there’s a nice thwack, which I take means good things.
“Beautiful, darlin’. Tinsley?”
Tinsley hops right up, driver in hand. Sashaying past us, she swishes her ass back and forth in her tight white pants, directly in Mack’s line of sight. She bends down and tees up her ball, moving like a limber cat stretching in a patch of sunlight. Leaning over the club, she wiggles her round ass side to side for a solid fifteen seconds.
“Hit the ball already,” Mack mutters under his breath and I snicker.
Tinsley steps away from the ball, not taking the shot. She lowers her designer sunglasses and shoots me a withering glare.
“Quiet, please.”
I hold up my palm. “Sorry.”
Then she goes through the whole process again, this time even slower.
For fuck’s sake.
After an age, Tinsley finally hits the damn ball. It flies through the air, landing in the middle of the fairway.
“Great shot, Tins!” Emma Kate cries.
“Yes, nice ball.” Mack’s dad bobs his head in appreciation, and Mack’s mom smiles.
Of course Tinsley’s great at golf. Of fucking course she is.
Mack unfolds himself from the cart and crosses to the tee box. Tinsley bends over as he gets closer, giving him a full, unbridled view of her ass.
Yeah, we get it. You have a nice ass.
Mack averts his gaze, stepping around her and stabbing the ground with his tee. Tinsley brushes against his arm, swiping her tee from the ground.
“Sorry. Don’t want this to be in your way.” Then she spins on her heel and swish-swishes away.
Lips pressed together in a tight line, Mack’s brow furrows in concentration. He takes a practice stroke, then drives the ball further than everyone else.
“Impressive.” Tinsley trills the word and a tiny bit of vomit rises in my throat.
“Let’s hit it, kids. We’ve got a group behind us.” Mack’s dad hitches his thumb at the impatient foursome glowering behind us.
Mack’s dad takes off and I follow, depressing the pedal all the way. We pick up speed going downhill and I let off the gas pedal, hoping to coast.
All of us slow down as we approach the fairway and I cut the cart to the right, trying to get close to Mack’s ball. Unfortunately, I hit a patch of white gravel as I near his parents’ cart. I slam on the brakes and the cart slides twenty feet. I’m an inch away from rear-ending his mom and dad. Mack braces himself as a puff of white dust blossoms around us and we screech to a halt.
“Good God almighty, son! What’s going on back there?” Mack’s dad adjusts his hat, shaking his head, and Mack’s mom scowls at us. The look’s practically her entire personality at this point.
“Sorry,” I say sheepishly.
“It’s fine, babe.” Mack pats my thigh, Emma Kate and Tinsley snickering in the background.
I can’t even drive a golf cart right. Who am I kidding? I’m not a country club – golf – tennis – yacht girlie. I’m a small-town—tequila-drinking—bar girlie who occasionally has sex in the back of a pickup truck beneath the stars.
This isn’t me at all.
Everyone hits their shots, then Mack’s back in the cart.
“You drive.” I scoot over, motioning at the plastic steering wheel.
“No, you’ve got it.”
“No. I don’t.”
“Let’s go!” Tinsley shouts, revving her cart behind us.
“Fine.” Mack sighs, sliding behind the wheel. I fold my arms over my chest and try to think happy thoughts.
Nothing comes to mind.
“I’m going to bounce at the middle, okay?”
“At the turn?” Mack glances over his shoulder, artificially green grass whizzing by.
“Yeah. At the midpoint. Halftime. Whatever.” I shrug, not sure of the technical jargon and not caring, either.
“Okay. Bobby can run you home.”
“It’s fine, I can walk.”
“Gracelyn, it’s over a mile.”
“I need the exercise.”
“Says who?”
“Tinsley.” The names pop out of my mouth before I can stop myself.
He eases off the gas pedal and the cart slows. “Did she say something to you?”
“Forget it.”
“Hell, no, I’m not forgetting it.”
“Mack—” I squeeze his strong biceps. “Please, don’t make this an issue.”
“Gracelyn, what did they say?”
I drop my gaze to the ground, wishing I could melt into the cart path somehow and disappear.
Forcing conviction into my voice, I square my shoulders and turn to face Mack. “Do not say anything to her. I’m serious. That only makes me look like a crybaby. Besides, no one said anything to my face. I heard her talking behind my back. To Emma Kate.”
“That bitch,” Mack growls, his jaw ticking.
“I agree. But I still don’t want to make a big deal about it. I’m just gonna walk home. It’s fine.”
“I’ll come with you. I don’t want to play golf anyway.”
“No. Have a fun time with your parents. I’ll be fine.”
Mack pulls his cell phone out of his pocket. “I’m calling Bobby.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “Fine. I’d probably get lost anyway.”
His thumb hovers over the dial button. “You sure you don’t want me to come? We could have some alone time, if you know what I mean?”
I smack him in the arm. “I know what you mean. And no, stay. Spend time with your family.”
Make all this worth my while.
I don’t say it, but I sure the hell think it.
At halftime—excuse me, the turn —I make my excuses and wave goodbye. The only one I’m sad to leave is Mack, but I figure his parents will be a Tinsley buffer. She wouldn’t dare make a move on him in front of them.
Bobby drops me off at the guesthouse and I wander in and crash onto the bed, stare up at the coffered ceiling.
Even the guesthouse ceiling is fancy here.
Buzz, buzz.
Bestie: How’s it going?
Gracelyn: TOTAL DISASTER
Bestie: NO!
Gracelyn: YES
I tap her icon, longing to hear a familiar voice. She answers on the first ring and my throat tightens.
“Hey.”
“Gracelyn!” She’s so sweet, so comforting, so Sloane, that I almost start crying.
Somehow I manage to hold it together.
“What’s going on? What happened?”
“Sloane, it’s been awful. Absolutely awful.” I tuck my legs up under me, readying for a long, consoling chat.
“His mother?”
“Yes. But his sister hasn’t been great either. And wait for it—his ex showed up.”
“No!” Sloane gasps.
“And not just an ex-girlfriend. He was engaged!”
“What?!?” Her voice tips up into a shriek. “Mack—my dad’s friend Mack—was engaged ?”
“Yep. A long time ago, right after college. Her name’s Tinsley and she’s terrible.”
Terrible Tinsley does have a nice ring to it.
“Gorgeous, too, which makes it worse.” I lean back against the pillows. “Thin and perfect. Great skin, nice hair.”
“Gracelyn, you’re more gorgeous, I’m sure. You have the best hair in the whole wide world. And your skin’s always dewy and perfect. Plus, you’re funny and witty and the nicest person on the planet. That girl’s got nothing on you.”
My chest squeezes as Sloane glazes me glossier than a Krispy Kreme donut hot and fresh from the fryer.
“Thanks, bestie. I love you. And I wish you were here because Tinsley is Jamie 2.0, I swear.”
“Yikes.”
“I know. I could totally use the backup. Not that Mack’s not backing me up. He totally would. But I don’t want him to.”
“Why?” Sloane asks the innocent question and I gnaw at my lip, considering.
“I don’t want to drag him into the mean girl shit. It’s fine.”
“No, it’s not, Gracelyn. Let him shut it down.” Her voice is firm and she almost convinces me.
Almost.
“I can’t, Sloane. It’d be too embarrassing. I overheard them talking about me. Twice. Once in the garden and another time in the ladies’ room. I’ll look like a tattletale if Mack mentions it.”
“Probably…” Sloane’s voice drops as we both consider my options.
“Not probably. Definitely. I’m not a snitch.”
She laughs, and my shoulders loosen a touch. I miss my best friend so much right now it actually physically hurts.
“Are you in Atlanta with Cam for the game?”
“Yes. He plays this weekend. But most of the team came up early, to beat the holiday traffic.”
“Nice. What are y’all doing for Thanksgiving?”
“Going to the hotel restaurant. My dad’s pumped.”
I chuckle at this. “Don’t know why. Your mimi always cooks the dinner.”
“She recruits him. Every year, like clockwork.”
“I miss you, bestie.” I can’t hold in my sigh.
“I miss you, too. It’ll all work out, Gracelyn. Things always do.” Sloane’s voice is calm and comforting, and I relax a little, trying to believe her.
“Aren’t you the sage one, now that you’re almost wifed up?” I tease, a touch of jealousy rippling through me. Sloane and Cam are so happy. I want a fraction, a glimmer of what the two of them have.
“Just quoting my bestie. I believe I was retching over a toilet when you uttered those words of wisdom.”
“Damn. Sometimes I’m too smart for my own good.”
Sloane giggles and we say our goodbyes. I click off, feeling a teensy bit better than I did before.