Chapter 2

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. 

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 yet name.

“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.

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. “You don’t know what you’re walking into.”

“I can take care of myself, Louis.”

But she couldn’t. Not entirely.

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 my side. All I could think was that she didn’t belong there.

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?”

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 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.”

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 guilt would accompany her. But, of course, it only worsened. 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.