across the back area; paving stones led through bushes and flowering plants I wished I could name. Jack came outside; his arms whispered around my waist. I started to turn.
“No,” he said. “Let me say something without you talking.”
I nodded and felt his chin atop my head. “I know you have to go home. I know you have an entirely full life with a wedding and family and a fantastic job. And I have a tour. But please know how much it meant to me that you found me, that you came here.”
I nodded, glad he’d asked me not to speak, because I couldn’t have anyway.
Then he turned me around. “And if we can possibly play for your charity event, we will.” He handed me a card with various numbers written on it.
“It’s in a few weeks—second weekend in April.”
He gave me a thumbs-up. “I think that’s a free weekend, but let me check with the guys.” He motioned toward the door with his head. “Let’s go.”
“Jack?”
“Yes?” He looked over his shoulder as he opened the door into the room.
“Thank you. That was the most fun I’ve had in as long as I can remember.”
“Any time, Kara. Any time.”
I wanted to grab that promise and hide it until I needed it.
The car thrummed with all my thoughts, everything I’d seen and done and said and heard over the last few hours. Not even a full day had passed and yet so much had happened. I reached for the phone to call Peyton; he’d be on his way home from Miami this morning. Then I remembered I’d promised Charlotte I’d call her first.
She beat me to the dialing; my cell phone rang. I yanked it from the console. “I’m here. I’m on my way home,” I told her.
“Okay....”
“This’ll be fun—explaining where I was.”
“Business, Kara. Business.”
I blew out a long breath. Change of subject would be good. I couldn’t speak of my last hours with Jack until I’d absorbed them in some way. “How was your date with that Tom guy? You’ve been out with him a few times now.”
“Good, nice guy. Really. Hey, I want to ask you a question—and don’t . . .”
“Go ahead, Charlotte. Don’t preamble your question. I hate that.”
“Did you know Peyton was engaged twice before?”
“No . . . ,” I whispered, air rushing from my lungs. “No, I didn’t. I don’t think that is true.”
“It is.”
“How do you know?” My gut felt as though someone were squeezing me around my middle. I pulled over to the side of I-95, parked in the emergency lane. “How in the hell do you know this and I don’t?”
“Well, when I was out with Tom, he mentioned how much better the guys on the tour like you than his other fiancées.”
“That’s it? Some offhand comment made by another golfer?”
“It wasn’t an offhand comment. I asked him about them.”
“And?” Now my head lay on top of the steering wheel; my heart fluttered like it wanted to stop completely.
“Just come on home and we’ll talk . . . I don’t want you driving into the Savannah River. I know how you drive when you’re preoccupied.”
“I’ve pulled over, and if you don’t finish telling me what you know . . .”
“Okay, it’s not that big a deal, I guess.”
“Two other fiancées. That seems like a sort of big deal, Charlotte.”
“Okay—I guess they didn’t last long, which is probably why he hasn’t said anything.”
“You’ve got to be kidding.”
“I’m sure Tom doesn’t know Peyton very well.”
“Finish, Charlotte.”
“Tom said Peyton likes to have someone . . . there during his tournaments. It has always worked out well for him.”
“Okay, who were they?”
“I have no idea. Really.”
I shifted the car into drive and pulled back onto the highway. “Don’t you think this is something he should’ve told me?”
“Of course I do.”
“What else did Tom say?”
“That I am gorgeous and funny and warm and intelligent.”
I laughed. “Liquor?”
“No, he’s just an extremely intelligent and intuitive man. But, of course, I’m just not that into him.”
“Of course not, because he’s just so into you.”
“The curse, I know.” Charlotte made a clucking noise. “Drive carefully. Call me when you get home. I want to hear every detail of your trip.”
I hung up and focused on the road. Two other fiancées. How could I not know this? My mind twisted around trying to figure out who they could’ve been, and I realized I didn’t know much about Peyton’s life . . . before me.
When I pulled up into my driveway, he was