The sun hangs high over the golf course, casting a golden sheen across the fairways. The air is crisp, carrying the faint scent of just-cut grass and the distant hum of cicadas. It’s a picture-perfect day—one that should be relaxing, easy.

But I’m not relaxed. Not even a little.

Magnolia has been gone for two weeks. Fourteen days of waking up alone, of reaching for her in the middle of the night only to find cool sheets. Of pretending like everything is fine when it sure as hell isn’t.

I grip the wheel of the golf cart, steering us toward the next hole. Alexander Sebring—my father and the man who taught me golf, rugby, yachting, and just about everything else worth knowing in life—sits beside me.

“Overthinking the next hole?” Amusement threads his voice. “Might need to eagle this one if you plan on catching up.”

I roll my shoulders, exhaling. “I’m still warming up, old man.”

He chuckles under his breath. “That’s what you said two holes ago.”

I don’t bother responding because he’s right. I’m off my game today, and we both understand the reason.

Before I can reach for my club, a voice—sweet, flirtatious—cuts through the quiet.

“Drink for you, Mr. Sebring?”

I glance up to find a cart girl standing beside us, a bright smile plastered across her face. She’s young, pretty, blond—the type I used to go for without a second thought. Another cart girl lingers beside her, two sets of eyes watching me like I’m the most interesting thing on the course.

She shifts her weight, batting her lashes. “Would you prefer I pick a beverage for you? Perhaps a cold beer?”

I offer a polite smile, already reaching into my pocket. “Don’t need anything right now, thanks.”

I pull out a bill and hand it to her, nodding toward their cart. “For your trouble.”

The blonde’s smile falters a fraction before she covers it with another sugary grin and takes the money. Her friend tries to salvage the moment, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear. “We’ll be around if you change your mind.”

I offer a polite smile. “No need but appreciate it.”

They linger for a beat, like they’re waiting for me to change my mind. When I don’t, the blonde gives a small nod. The two of them leave, their conversation hushed as they saunter back to their cart.

My father smirks, leaning against his club. “The ladies have always loved you and your brothers.”

I smirk, tossing my glove into the cart. “What can I say? We take after our dad.”

He lets out a low chuckle. “Flattery won’t help you win this round, boy.”

I shake my head, grabbing a bottle of water from the cooler. “I’m not interested in chasing women anymore. Or in being chased.”