Love Always, Kate (22 page)

Chapter 24

When I awoke to the alarm clock, Damian’s arms were around me. He groaned and slapped the buzzer, silencing it.

My head didn’t feel like a boulder. A small sliver of relief washed over me. It was strange
, though. I’d expected it to last a couple days like the rest of my headaches. I shifted in bed, rubbing my temples. The fuzziness remained.

“Damian?” I nudged him. “Wake up.”

One of his lids rose. “Yeah, I’m up.”

“Tee time at nine, remember?”

His other lid flew open. “We don’t have to do it today, Katie. Not after last night.”

“I feel fine. Please? I wanna go.”

He glided the back of his hand over my cheek. “Maybe you should take it easy today.”

I glared at him, and he groaned again, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “
All right.”

I kissed him. “Thank you.”

When I swung my legs over the side of the bed, Damian tugged me back to him.

“Did you say you feel
good
this morning?”

“No headache.”

A smile crept over his face, his dimples pinching into his cheeks. His hands slipped under the back of my shirt, lifting it over my head. I reached for him, and he kissed me harder.

~*~

It was the perfect day for golf at Willow Creek Country Club. Damian was adamant about renting a cart even though I insisted on walking. He won, of course, and I pretended to be grumpy about it.

“Ladies first,” Damian said, gesturing in front of him.

I studied him suspiciously and grabbed my three wood. To make it fair, I had told him I’d shoot from the men’s tee box. After putting my orange tee in the ground, I glanced over my shoulder. Damian’s head was bowed, and he tapped his fingers nervously on the hood of the cart.

Sighing, I set my ball and took a few practice swings before stepping up. I peeked back at Damian, who shot me a thumbs up. Readying myself, I swung, watching my ball until it bounced on the fairway.

Damian walked up behind me. “Well, well. I guess I’m up, huh?”

“Do you need some pointers? A refresher course? ‘Cause, I mean, I don’t want to totally blow you away.”

Damian grabbed a club out of his bag and sauntered to where I’d just driven one of the best shots of my life. A sly grin spread slowly over his face.

“I think I
can figure it out.”

I stood back with my hands on my hips, trying to contain a smirk.

From his practice strokes, I’d never have guessed he hadn’t played in years. His form was spot on. He stepped up, concentrated, and swung through.

We both watched as his ball rose into the sky in a perfectly straight arch. With my mouth still gaping, Damian came up next to me.

“How do you like them apples?” he whispered in my ear.

Still staring at where his ball landed, yards ahead of mine, I puffed out a breath.

Damian laughed. “You’re cute. Come on.”

We climbed into the golf cart and sped out over the fairway. I couldn’t take my
eyes off him and the gorgeous way his lips curved upward.

“You said…I thought…” I folded my arms across my chest.

Damian tilted his head toward me. “And yet the look on your face is priceless.”

I scoffed and shook my head, unable to hide my amusement.

“Ah,” he said, pointing. “I think that’s your ball I see first. Hmm. Guess that means you’re up.”

I leaned over and kissed him to shut him up. “It’s only the first hole.”

“Whatever you say, baby.”

My next shot landed on the edge of the green. But so did Damian’s. Yeah, and his was closer—much closer.

I contemplated my play. To birdie this hole, I’d really have to be on my putting game. I scanned the layout from all angles, trying to analyze every possibility.

“Wake me up when you’re ready,” Damian hollered, putting his feet up on the dash of the cart.

I ignored him and set up. Taking my time, I hit the ball and cringed as it circled the hole and popped out.

Damian stepped up right behind me, his lips pressed against my neck. “Wanna reshoot? I can let that one slide.”

“Shut up and go.”

I smacked him on the butt with my putter on my way off the green.

He tapped his ball in for a birdie while I settled for par.

“You can shoot from the ladies’ box,” he said as we drove to the next hole. “It’s only fair.”

“Nah. I like the challenge.”

Damian raised his brows. “Wanna wager?”

I sat back in the seat. “Depends. What’re the stakes?”

“I win, you tell me your next wish
today
. I lose, I get to make a wish of my own.”

I thought about it for a couple of seconds—longer than Damian would have liked.

He tapped a finger against his mouth. “Oh, come on! Deal or no deal?”

“I’m trying to see how you spun it since you tricked me the last time.”

Damian laughed. “No tricks, no over unders. It’s an ‘I win, I lose’ bet.”

I repeated it in my head.
“
I win…I lose…” Sounded fair
.

“Deal.”

We kissed on it.

Damian cleared his throat. “Shall we?”

I started to follow him, then I stopped. “Wait a minute.”

He turned around slowly, fingers pressed over his lips, trying to contain the coy grin.

“No! No deal!” I shook my head, stunned that he’d fooled me again.

“We kissed on it. Sealed the deal, baby.”

“You win either way!”

Damian strode up to my side, hooking his arm behind my waist. “Will it make you feel better if I promise to return the favor tonight?”

“What does that even mean?”

“Wanna find out?” His breath tickled my ear.

My eyes widened. “Kiss on it?”

Taking my face in both hands, he leaned down and left me breathless.

Both of us scored par on the second and third holes. Somehow I managed a birdie on hole four after a horrible drive, tying up the score. My real luck, however, happened on the fifth hole when Damian cut it too far to the right, landing out of bounds. He ended up with a double bogie while I wrote down par—with a smiley face—on the scorecard.

During the cart ride, my head began to spin, but I kept my
eyes forward, hoping Damian wouldn’t notice. It wasn’t bad, and I could deal with it. I
needed
to deal with it…at least until the tenth hole.

I did okay on hole six
, considering Damian’s ball landed in the sand trap. While Damian hit solid pars on holes seven and eight, I bogied them both. Normally, I played a tight front nine and tired on the back half. Today, though, the effects of the headache slowed me down.

One more hole. Hide it for one more hole!

“All right, Lowell,” I teased. “Let’s see what you’ve got!”

“Watch out, Browdy,” he said, getting ready to swing. “I plan on tying it up right here.”

It took a lot of energy to fake how I felt. With the way Damian glanced over his shoulder at me before he swung, I could tell he wouldn’t buy it for much longer.

When I lined up, the ball blurred below me. I squeezed my lids shut, fighting to maintain control. My hands began to shake. Worried, I cut a stare to Damian for a second, but he was putting his club away and not watching me yet. Taking a deep breath, I swung.

Thankfully, the wind had picked up and caught the ball, pulling it to the left. I put on a flirtatious smile and batted my eyes at Damian.

“Nice shot,” he said, his voice low. He wasn’t smiling.

On the green, I focused harder. The sun stung my pupils, and I wished that somehow I could sink the ball with my eyes shut. I missed the hole twice and felt Damian’s gaze on the back of my neck.

Judging by his stance and how his blue irises kept popping up to check on me, he putted his ball into the sand trap, missing the hole by a mile.

“Uh, Lowell?” I said pointing. “That wasn’t even close.” I winced at the pain.

He bit his lower lip and hurried to dig his ball out. Carelessly swinging, he took two more taps to finish the hole.

“Forty-three to forty—nine holes to go,” I said, handing him the score card.

He didn’t take it. Instead he took my hand and led me back to the cart.

“We’re done.” His voice sounded rough and irritated.

“Done? What do you mean?”

“I know that look, Kate. You’ve got another headache.”

I adjusted my visor. “It’s really not bad,” I assured him. “Please. I can’t let these control my life.” I stared at him, hoping he’d relent.

Damian handed me a bottle of water, and I took a sip.

“More,” he demanded.

I sucked down the rest and gave him back the empty bottle. “Please.”

He sighed. “One hole at a time,” he said sternly. “I
f it gets worse, or you pale—we’re done.”

I nodded. “Fine.”

Damian studied me for a few seconds like he was trying to see inside me.

“Thank you,” I said, taking his hand.

He lifted it to his lips. Then, he drove to the tenth hole.

I checked my watch.

He has to be there. He promised.

When I looked up, Dr. Lowell was standing at the tenth hole with his clubs next to him, ready to play the back nine.

Damian’s eyes flitted to me. “You planned this, didn’t you?”

I shrugged. “An investment, remember?”

He said nothing.

“He’s your father,” I told him. “And it’s time to make amends. For both of you.”

“Kate.” Damian voice cracked.

“I wanted to be here with you, and I will, but I don’t think I can play anymore.”

“Maybe we should—”

“No.” The word came out louder than I’d expected, taking Damian by surprise. I swallowed. “Please, do this for me. I’ll be fine.”

Dr. Lowell walked over and shook hands with his son. I laid my head down in the cart, hoping I’d done the right thing.

~*~

March 22

Dear Diary,

I think my plan worked. Unfortunately I didn’t get to be mentally there for the rest of the game, but Damian told me earlier today that his father asked us out for dinner tonight. He seemed genuinely happy about it. Damian’s picking me up in twenty minutes. I haven’t seen him all day, and I can’t wait.

It’s times like this when I regret my decision to not try the experimental drug. Am I doing the right thing? If it would allow me to live just one more day, would it be worth it? Or would it just prolong the inevitable, allowing those I love to hang on to me and feel the pain a little longer?

No. I made the right decision. They’ve suffered enough.
I’ve
suffered enough.

I stuffed my diary under my pillow and headed downstairs to my parents’ room. Dressed in a pair of black slacks and a pink and black frill top, I dug around Mom’s closet for a matching pair of pumps.

“Mom!”

Her head immediately poked around the corner.

“Do you have anything that will go with this?” I asked, throwing my arms down my sides.

“You look amazing,” she said, beaming at me.

“Yeah, well
, I’m going to look dorky without shoes.”

“Where are your black boots?”

“The heel broke, remember? You took them to the cobbler at the mall.”

Mom scratched her head. She didn’t remember. Just great.

From the top shelf of her closet, she grabbed a shoebox.

“You can wear these,” she said, handing me the strappy rhinestone pumps she reserved for special occasions.

“Oh, Mom, they’re perfect!” I exclaimed.

I sat on the edge of the bed and slipped them over my pink-polished toenails. Standing up, I admired my feet.

“Well, Cinderella,” my mother said. “Same rules apply. Home by midnight, or they’ll turn into pumpkins.”

I laughed. “Yeah, that’s not how the story goes. She gets to keep the shoes.”

“She’s probably still getting ready,” my father said from the kitchen.

“Well,” my mother said with a chuckle. “Your prince charming is here.”

Throwing my arms around her neck, I kissed her cheek. “Thanks, Mom.”

Damian’s face glowed when he saw me. He wore a sky blue button-up shirt, casually untucked, and with the sleeves rolled up. As always, my eyes drew to his dimples. They definitely completed the ensemble.
Super sexy.