Chapter 2
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Louis’s POV
As the first of morning light came creeping in
through the curtains, I sat on the edge of the bed,
watching Emily as she slept. Despite her peaceful
expression now, I knew she had slept restlessly
most of the night, tossing and turning in her sleep.
Guilt formed a knot in my stomach. I knew it was
because of me. I knew I was the reason for her
sleepless night, even if she didn’t yet.
I had betrayed her. I broke a trust so
fundamentally that I knew it would all be over if she
found out. She would never look at me the same.
again. Still, the selfish, cowardly part of me hoped
she would never find out. Some things were better
left unsaid. Maybe if I kept it hidden, I could protect
her, protect us.
Just keep telling yourself that, coward.
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I looked at her one last time before slipping out
of bed. And as I got ready for work, bittersweet
memories came rushing in.
I first noticed Emily on the sixth hole at
Westridge Golf Club, struggling under a heavy bag
while two older men jeered at her. Their cruel
laughter echoed as she braced herself, her
expression neutral. I was only half–focused on the
match, but the moment I saw her, I was drawn in.
I stepped between her and the men, asking, “Is
there a problem here?” One smirked, but I told them
to take their jokes elsewhere and that Emily was
with me now. She hesitated but followed me without
a word.
“You didn’t have to do that,” she said finally,
breaking the silence as we neared my group. Her
voice was soft but edged with something I couldn’t
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yet name.
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“Maybe not. But I wanted to.” I slowed my pace,
glancing at her. “What’s your name?”
“Emily.”
“Well, Emily, would you like to be my caddie for
the rest of the day? I’ll pay extra if it’s an issue.”
Her lips parted slightly, as though she was
considering refusing just to prove a point. But
finally, she nodded. “Okay.”
That was the beginning.
I started asking for Emily every time I visited
Westridge. I didn’t even try to hide it–none of the
other caddies compared to her. She was sharp,
quick to learn the game, and she didn’t wilt under
pressure. Her focus, her silence, her resilience–I
admired all of it. When she smiled, it was rare, but it
knocked the breath out of me every time.
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One afternoon, as we walked together between
holes, she mentioned the debts she was trying to
pay off–how she’d been balancing work since high
school, trying to keep herself afloat. “I just need to
get through this year,” she said, her tone too casual
to hide how badly she wanted out.
I offered to help then, but she waved me off. “No
offense, Mr. Whitmore, but I’m not a charity case.”
“Call me Louis,” I replied, grinning. “And fine. Be
stubborn.”
Then came the day she told me about the travel
team. A group of girls, handpicked to caddie for
events overseas. “They’re doubling the pay,” she
said, her eyes bright. “I could finish paying off my
debts in months instead of years.”
I didn’t like it. I’d heard the stories–the things
men expected from the women who traveled with
them. “Emily, this isn’t a good idea,” I told her flatly.
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“You don’t know what you’re walking into.”
“I can take care of myself, Louis.”
But she couldn’t. Not entirely.
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I found her weeks later at a party in Vienna. She
was pale and shaking, wearing a dress that wasn’t
hers, surrounded by men who couldn’t stop staring
at her like she was something to be bought and sold.
I didn’t think I just pushed through the crowd until I
reached her.
“Emily,” I said, quietly but firmly.
Her head snapped toward me, her expression a
mix of relief and disbelief. “Louis?”
“Come with me,” I said, offering her my hand.
“Now.”
She took it without hesitation. I didn’t care that I
burned bridges that night–didn’t care what my
associates thought when I left the party with her by
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Back at the hotel, I told her as much. “You need
to quit this, Emily. You can’t keep doing this to
yourself.”
She stared at me, her hands shaking. “I don’t
have a choice. I need the money.”
“Then let me help you,” I said. “You can pay me
back when you’re ready. No strings attached.”
Her lips trembled. “Why?”
“Because you’re better than this,” I said simply.
She didn’t answer right away. But the next day,
she told me she was done with the caddie service.
From there, everything changed.
We started seeing each other. Slowly, carefully.
She introduced me to her parents not long after, and
I could tell her mother didn’t approve. Over dinner,
she asked, “How did you two meet?”
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Fmily stiffened beside me, but I smiled. “On a
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Emily stiffened beside me, but I smiled. “On a
golf course. She was the best caddie I ever had.”
Her mother wasn’t amused. I could feel their
judgment, their distrust. So I made an offer–a small
investment in their family’s struggling business. I
didn’t say it out loud, but we all knew what it meant:
accept me, and you’ll be fine.
They didn’t have to like me. They just had to let
her be happy.
And she was. For a while.
***
But now, sitting at my desk at work, that
certainty felt distant. The thought of what I’d done
haunted me, what I had done with Maya.
Like thinking of her had summoned her, Maya
knocked on my office door. I glared at her a bit, but I
couldn’t be too mad at her. It was my mistake
anyway. I had gotten drunk, and I had mistaken her
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anyway. I had gotten drunk, and I had mistaken her
for my wife. No one else did that but me.
“We need to talk,” Maya said softly as she
walked in. I nodded and shut the door behind her,
closing the blinds to give us more privacy.
I returned to my desk, leaned against it, and
crossed my arms. “Well. What do you need to talk
about?”
Maya seemed unsure, nervous even. Something
I had never known her to be. Then she dropped a
bombshell on me.
“I’m pregnant. It’s yours.”
Pregnant? Maya was pregnant? My hands
clenched into a fist at my side, angry at myself for
messing my life up so completely.
“Please,” Maya said softly. “I don’t want
anything from you. I just want to keep the baby. I
won’t give you any more trouble.”
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I took another moment to breathe, then stood
up straight and stared Maya down. “I won’t deny you.
the right to keep the baby. And I will help in other
ways if I can. But stay away from Emily. If she finds
out, things won’t end well for you.”
Maya’s eyes were wide and filled with tears, and
I almost felt sorry for her for a second. But her being
pregnant didn’t erase the fact that she had sex with
her best friend’s husband. And her part in my
mistake would be something I could never forgive.
“Okay,” she eventually said. “Emily will never
find out.”
I nodded once, firmly. “Good.” I stepped back
around and sat down at my desk. “You can leave
now, Maya.”
As Maya walked stiffly out of the office, I had
hoped beyond reason that my quilt would
accompany her. But, of course, it only worsened.
Maun haina nunAnant would anlunamalianta thinan
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Maya being pregnant would only complicate things,
making it more likely that Emily would find out the
truth.
There was no escape from my actions. I had
made a bed, and now I had to lie in the dung of it. No.
matter how hard I tried to convince myself
otherwise, the truth revealed itself sooner or later.
