Zoey smiles at me, then her expression morphs into concern. “Are you okay?”
Great. She noticed the excessive sweating. How many strikes do you get on a first date before getting thrown out?
“Sure. It’s just summer. You know, hot.”
I’m a regular wordsmith. I should get a job writing greeting cards. Or sitcoms.
Zoey is still looking at me strangely when Zane and Abby join us again. She’s giggling and his shirt is wet. I’m not sure I want to know. What I want is to sit, so I lean on the fence, trying to catch my breath.
“So,” Zane says, teeing up his shot, “we’re turning twenty-four today. How old are you, Gavin? Thirty-five? Thirty-nine?”
I suddenly have a headache. Maybe it’s not so sudden. Probably from dehydration. I need water. Why didn’t I bring water?
Zane is speaking in a casual tone, and I’m not sure if it’s nice that he thinks I look younger, or if he knows that I’m actually older and he’s trying to highlight that fact. Judging on the little time we’ve spent together tonight, he’s not my biggest fan.
“I’m forty-three.”
He’s definitely surprised, and maybe even more disapproving now than he was before. My eyes flick to Zoey. Thankfully, she doesn’t look surprised or bothered, just angry with her brother. I peel myself off the fence and find myself wishing that my club was long enough to use as a crutch. I’m suddenly exhausted.
Zoey looks like she’s about to say something, but Zane interrupts, running a hand through his hair as his gaze bounces between me and his sister.
“Wow. So, you were starting college when we were born. That’s—”
Whatever he was about to say is cut off when Abby jabs him in the stomach. “I think that’s quite enough from you, birthday boy.” She mouths sorry to me, and I nod.
But his words did their damage. I’m running all kinds of numbers and scenarios in my head. I would have been nineteen when Zoey and Zane were born. An adult when she was an infant. That’s … not pleasant to consider.
I was married to Eleanor when Zoey would have been a toddler. It would have been illegal for me and Zoey to even date until I was thirty-six. The year after I got divorced.
If I was hot before, I’m the embodiment of August right now. I need water. I need to sit down. I need to stop thinking about the fact that Zoey could be my daughter.
Abby and Zane have moved on to the next hole, and Zoey walks over to me, almost tiptoeing, as though she senses that I’m teetering on the edge. I’m sure it’s obvious. Sweat is dripping down my face. Even the backs of my knees now feel damp.
“Don’t worry about Zane,” she says.
What she doesn’t say? Don’t worry about the age difference. She didn’t reassure me that it doesn’t matter to her that I could have been her babysitter or her father’s friend. That she was getting her first diaper changed when I was casting my first votes in an election.
“I guess it could be worse,” Zane says. “It could be a twenty-year age gap.”
“Zane!” Zoey shouts, tossing the tiny pencil at his head. It bounces off, lost forever in an elephant palm bordering the course.
Meanwhile, my brain appears to be melting. Literally and figuratively.
“I have to go,” I say, not even realizing that I was about to say the words. But I do need to go. My vision is starting to blur, and I realize much too late that I probably have whatever virus Nancy does. I need to get home and take a painkiller and just get in bed.
“What about the game? And custard?” Zoey is doing a valiant job trying to hide her hurt, but I can still see it. Zane and Abby have drifted away, and she appears to be giving him an earful.
And I care that Zoey is hurt, I really, really do, but I suspect that any minute now, I’m going to embarrass myself further on this date by fainting. And if there’s one thing that I know, it’s that there’s nothing less manly than eating a face full of mini golf turf.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I had a great time. Happy birthday. Here.” I thrust a twenty-dollar bill at her that I’ve managed to pluck from my wallet. At least, I think it’s a twenty. My vision is full-on swimming now. “I’ll text you.”
I think Zoey takes the money, but what I know for sure