Page 25 of Golden Days

“Thanks,” I say, bumping his shoulder with mine.

When he notices I’m not eating the sandwich he says, “Did I get it wrong again?”

“It has cheese on it,” I admit with a small laugh, and hand it to him.

Brody drops his chin to his chest in defeat. “I’m the worst boyfriend,” he mumbles, shaking his head.

I put an arm around him and pat his shoulder. “For me you are. But maybe your next girlfriend won’t have weird allergies, and she’ll be super into baseball.”

He looks up and gives me a half smile. “You think so?”

“Absolutely.”

Brody wraps me up in a hug and I let it happen. He needs this closure, and maybe deep down, I do too. I’ve been putting off this conversation because I feared his reaction, but I should have known that deep down, he just wants someone to love him wholeheartedly.

Sadly for him, that person is not me.

“You’ll be okay without me, I promise,” I say.

For once, I think Brody believes me.

I find Rosie cleaning the parked golf carts. When I tell her about my conversation with Brody, she squeals and throws her arms around me, squeezing me hard. “I’m so glad you finally broke up with him. This is going to be so good for you.”

I laugh against her shoulder and pull back from her embrace. “As usual, you were right. I feel better having that conversation with him. And I’m glad he didn’t ask me to move out right away,” I say, chewing on my bottom lip.

“We should celebrate. Drinks?”

“We’re still working,” I point out.

“I meant after work, silly,” she says, smacking me across the shoulder playfully.

“Yeah, maybe,” I hesitate. The balance in my bank account is screaming at me that it’s a bad idea, given that I’m now going to have to put every spare cent towards a security deposit on a new apartment.

“My treat,” Rosie says, likely realizing that my mind strayed to my finances.

She’s the only person I’ve confided in about everything—how my mom spent all of her and Dad’s savings, how she’s unable to pay for his medical bills and prescriptions so I have to send money to her to cover those things because she won’t take responsibility for her actions and try to fix it.

I hate taking money from people, especially from Rosie. She means well and wants to help me, but I also know she’s paying off her own student debt and saving up for grad school.

“I don’t know. It’s the middle of the week, maybe we should wait until the weekend,” I say.

Rosie watches me for a beat, then nods. “You got it, babe.”

“Thanks.”

“How are you doing with your certification hours?” she asks, changing the subject.

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” I groan. “I need to beg Ben to assign me a few more pro shop hours.” When I started working here full time, I was promised that my hours in the pro shop would count towards my certification, which I'm very close to completing. I was also promised that I’d get experience coaching, but not much of that has happened, either.

“God forbid he put you, his most talented associate, on the caddie rotation more often, or let you coach a few kids’ beginner courses,” she says, rolling her eyes. “I’m so done with his bullshit.”

I sigh, looking out at the course. The weather this week has been amazing—clear skies and warm enough to wear my dress uniform. Maybe I’ll even get to play a round once my shift is over.

“I’d bitch at him, but I can’t afford to lose this job, so I’m going to be on my best behavior instead,” I say, giving her a dejected look.

“I hate that he makes your life so much harder. He’s a prick to everyone, but he seems to dislike you the most.” Rosie’s eyebrows pull together.

“He picks on you too. Probably because of me,” I say, grimacing.