Chapter Fifteen
Daniel
“ M orning,” I said, greeting a rumpled Wren, snugly secured in a bathrobe.
“Sorry, between the wine and the time difference, I zonked out.” She strolled into the kitchen as I began making her a French press. “Although I should have been up earlier than you, considering we’re three hours behind home. So yeah, the wine.” She was mumbling and… “What?” She stared at me with an eyebrow raised.
“You’re cute, that’s all.”
“Cute? Not sexy in my morning glory?”
“Sexy, always,” I stated.
She eyed me. “What are you doing over there?”
“Cooking? Kind of,” I joked. This had us both laughing. “I’m going to caffeinate you, then teach you how to play golf, and maybe take you to lunch.”
“Perfect.” She slid onto one of the stools, checking her hair with her hand.
“Still straight,” I confirmed with a wink.
“Ha, ha. This is crazy. I’m not used to lounging around. If it’s not work, it’s Rourke. This may be my first vacation in…I don’t know how long.”
“Good. Banana? Strawberries? Protein shake?” I inquired, letting the French press finish, plunging the glass container.
“Coffee.”
“Coming right up.” We spent a few minutes in the kitchen, enjoying quiet and stillness without it being awkward, until I brought two steaming mugs of coffee to the breakfast bar, sliding one in front of Wren and sitting down next to her. “I’m glad you slept…”
“Ugh, I’m noting you’re dressed and ready to go. Were you waiting?”
“I’m in sweats, hardly my golf whites. I met with my physical therapist from the home gym, on Zoom, while you were catching Z’s.”
“Did that go well?”
“Right as rain.”
“You had a good surgeon,” she joked.
“The best,” I stated, matter-of-factly.
“They have plenty of amazing surgeons in California, Daniel. Be serious.”
“I am. You’re the best one for me. Got me all better, and now you’re here.”
“Shh. Don’t make me feel like I don’t have any scruples.” She lifted her mug to her mouth and took a long gulp. “So, golf? And a tour? Show me around in that shiny convertible of yours?”
“I hate to break it to you, but Angelenos think it’s cold right now.”
Reaching across, she pinched my cheek. “This northerner thinks it’s a heat wave.”
“Whatever you want, Birdie.”
Rolling her eyes at the nickname, she went back to her coffee.
Only one word came to mind: ease. We existed in ease.
As we sat quietly for a beat or two, Wren downed the rest of her cup and said, “Let’s roll. I won’t be long.” She stood and then turned. “Wait, did you say golf whites?”
I nodded. “There is a dress code. You don’t need white, but golf attire.”
“I’m guessing my Lululemon pants don’t count.”
I shook my head. “Get dressed in whatever you planned to wear for the day, and we will stop in the golf shop for some duds.”
She nodded and was off, leading me to wonder if this was reality. The ease of this was unexpected…a vibe that continued throughout the day.
“Like this?” Wren asked, grinding back into me as I helped maneuver her stroke.
“Like this,” I mimicked her, positioning her back arm, helping her bring the club up overhead and then allowing her to follow through.
Watching her ball hit the sand trap, I couldn’t stop thinking of how adorable she looked in a red golf skirt and a white shirt tucked into it, brand-new golf shoes on her feet. I hoped it meant she was keeping it all and coming back.
“Well, that was sucky—”
I pulled her in and kissed the top of her head. We were only on the fourth hole, and I was thinking nine would be enough for today.
“Go, take your turn,” she demanded.
She watched wild-eyed as I hit a hole in one.
“An eagle!” She jumped up and wrapped her arms around my neck, kissing my cheek. It took a moment, and then she said, “I’m sure that’s not appropriate for out here, but I don’t care.”
“Come on, let’s get your ball out of the sand trap,” I joked.
We did call it quits after nine, changing and retiring to lunch inside the clubhouse. Adam Sandler sat in the corner and I saw Wren eye him and look away before squeezing my hand.
I adored how sensitive she was to everything I said. It had been a while since anyone had actually listened to me.
We shared a giant shrimp cocktail and we each had a salad before we changed and I took Wren for a drive on Sunset Boulevard.
“Can we get out for a second?” she asked as we passed a big music store.
“Sure.”
“I want to see it. I should tell you…my close friend in medical school was a drummer on the side, and she always said how much fun the music scene was on Sunset.” Wren rambled as we parked and she got out of the car.
Her excitement was infectious, and I had to reel myself in from comparing her to my ex. There was no ill will toward Wren, but I knew Wren was one of a kind and nothing like Missy, so even thinking about them together was sacrilegious.
“In here?” She hung on to a door, swinging it open to a huge music emporium while looking up at me.
Words couldn’t or wouldn’t come to mind, so I nodded.
A few moments later, I couldn’t help the smile plastered on my face as Wren tinkered with a drum set, playing off-beat and loving every second, before saying, “Let’s go enjoy your backyard oasis.”
Who was I to argue?
Especially when, an hour later as we were seated on chaise lounges next to one another, enjoying a cocktail, she stated, “This is the most perfect place in California.”
“Is it now?” I teased.
But Wren looked at me with a sated smile and said, “Yeah. Although the private chef, the drinks help…”
I’d surprised Wren when we arrived home with a staff waiting, armed and ready to cook us dinner in my kitchen.
Now, she giggled. “I can’t help but laugh over your idea of cooking me dinner.”
That’s how I’d presented it— I’m making you dinner . I knew this would crack Wren up, and it did. The ease with which we had spent the day together was undeniable, and I found myself wondering why I’d waited so long…
“What are you thinking?” Wren spoke over the rim of her wine goblet. We were drinking a California Cabernet—the chef’s choice.
In this moment, I wasn’t sure whether the truth was prudent or not, but after a gulp of my own liquid courage, I revealed, “I was thinking about this. Us. How great it is, and wondering why I didn’t tear my ACL sooner.”
“Oh. My. Daniel. Don’t say that. Don’t wish that on yourself,” she said through gulping for air and laughing.
“Seriously. Maybe I could have staged an accident way back when I was golfing. You could have come to my rescue.”
Wren looked at me, a soft smile on her lips. “I probably wouldn’t have. I was so mad at you. I’ve been upset for decades. Honestly, it’s kind of silly.”
I stood, setting my wine down on the table next to my chair, and made my way to the edge of her chair. Without my asking, she slid her legs to the side and made room for me.
Seated at her feet, I brought them in my lap. “I wasn’t strong enough back then to stand up to my dad. By the time I realized the future sat in my hands and mine alone, we were over, and you were long gone. And well, I was tangled up with Missy. I’d made a mess of my personal life, but my professional one stayed rock-solid. That’s what my dad didn’t get. I didn’t let anything get in the way of my success.”
Her hand came to rest on my forearm. “It was another time. We were both headstrong and stubborn, yet unable to stand up to our parents.”
“And here we are, reconnected, living our best lives.”
Wren was saying, “In your backyard,” when the chef popped out and said dinner was ready.
We both stood, Wren slipping her hand in mine, leaning her head on my shoulder.
“Don’t ever say I didn’t have you over for dinner, Birdie,” I whispered, and in an instant we were back to laughing.