Dahlia Aldridge
More mediawas an understatement.
Unfortunately, it was somewhat unavoidable. The entire situation at the gala had made national news by five this morning. How did I know that? Because I’d yet to sleep and had watched when the networks began to report on it, their bright-eyed and cheery faces seemingly ‘shocked’ at such a large social issue in a town like ours.
Was anyone actually surprised? Also, didn’t we have larger issues to worry about?
But yeah, after waking up from my nightmare, I’d not only taken the time to talk to the police, but made sure to keep it together and keep calm, for both my guys’ and family’s sake.
I could tell it was one of those things that I needed to push past, because focusing too directly on it would only cause others around me pain. After the police left, I’d spent the early dawn on my front porch, drinking coffee as my boys seemed lost in thought, all of them spread out across the wooden surface.
Even Stratton was there, despite him not being at the gala. When I’d made my way down to the police officers, he had nearly taken me back inside himself, and that was when I realized how upset he was. Although, honestly, it was pretty obvious by how tense he’d been.
While they’d questioned me, he had stood right behind me, his entire demeanor aggressive, as if the police were somehow doing something wrong. The intimidation worked, for the record—the police had very much looked uncomfortable—and following the questioning, Stratton had stayed out on the porch with me, looking deep in thought. I wasn’t positive what was on his mind, but he had essentially gone mute, and it worried me that the situation had somehow done the opposite of ‘made progress.’ When he had finally made his way back to his house for the morning, he’d done so with a kiss to the top of my head and nothing to my other guys in terms of a ‘goodbye.’ Honestly, all of them seemed pretty out of it, so I wasn’t positive they noticed.
It had been a good time to suggest getting ready for the day, and when I’d walked inside, my mom and dad had been sitting in the kitchen, talking quietly. Getting a hug wasn’t unusual in my family, but the hug that my dad gave me? It made me realize just how upset he was about the entire situation. I’d tried to be extremely positive from that point on, and when they asked if I wanted to go today, I’d immediately agreed. If I stayed home, it would be all they thought about, and I knew today was important.
I had conceded to my mom that it may not be a bad idea to talk to someone about what had happened, although that idea made me a bit uncomfortable. I mean, I thought therapy was an excellent concept, and I was actually very pro-mental health… it was just a bit harder when it came to practicing it myself. Also, opening up to strangers always left me feeling a lack of control.
I had to trust someone I didn’t know with my vulnerabilities.
Trust they would keep my information confidential.
Trust they wouldn’t judge me.
Honestly, it was just a really terrifying concept overall.
So yes, the media aspect was somewhat unavoidable, and when we had first arrived at Ivy Grove this morning, there had been news vans lined up outside of the club’s gates. Luckily, it didn’t seem to be getting aggressive, but the security was pretty tight and seemed heavier than normal, so clearly my dad had anticipated this.
Once we were through the gates, the environment was much more relaxed and familiar. My parents told me they’d chosen to only allow select sources into the property, so once we were inside, everything seemed a bit more normal than the chaos outside. Honestly, it made me feel a world better from the night before, and by the time we walked inside, I was feeling far more upbeat. Heck, I wasn’t even tired despite not having slept yet.
While I felt a lot of the guests—both international and local—staring, they had enough social grace to not mention the situation at hand. People around here were fantastic at that. Plus, I think people were focused on the golf aspect, the bubbly energy making me feel almost hyper as I bounced around the club house.
Ian was gone.I had to continue to remind myself of that, because there was still an edge to everything in my brain, the shifting of people in my peripheral making me still a bit. Luckily, no one tried to approach me besides my guys and Wildberry Lane family. The others clearly valued their membership here and wanted to be invited back next year. For once, I wasn’t complaining about the extreme exclusivity that this place fostered.
While this charity tournament was annual, the club was also home to three major golf tournaments throughout the year, as well as statewide and collegiate matches. It was an impressive club and even more stunning golf course, which was saying something since I honestly didn’t have an eye or care for what made courses ‘good’ or not. Still, I’d been to my fair share throughout the years, and the landscaping design of this course stood out.
That wasn’t even mentioning that the architect who had been hired to build up the clubhouse had been world-renowned. While I absolutely enjoyed the style of it, I didn’t even want to consider how much their commission had been… I knew my parents could be a bit extreme when it came so stuff like that.
Letting out a small yawn, I rolled back my shoulders and looked over the landscape of hole seventeen, where we were currently parked. The noon hour was ticking by, and my frame was comfortably cradled by my golf cart’s plush seat, exactly how I preferred it. I didn’t play golf very often, but I did enjoy watching it because it took a level of skill that I could appreciate.
Mostly because I was so damn awful at it. No amount of practice could fix the issue—trust me, I’d tried lessons for years and years—it just wasn’t in the cards for me. The sport did, however, get extra brownie points because my boys looked sexy playing it and because I never had to overthink my outfit while heading to the course.
No, seriously—an entire section of my closet was dedicated to what I deemed my ‘country club uniform.’ It consisted of a myriad of athletic skorts—you know, the cute skirts with shorts underneath—sleeveless polos in an array of bright colors, and matching shoes. Today I’d chosen to wear a skort that featured a bright pink and green pattern and a matching top, my dark sunglasses perched on top of my nose and my hair pulled back into a sleek, high ponytail that was tied off with a silk ribbon.
Luckily, despite the heat and humidity that had infused Saturday morning in an unbearable weight—which was saying something, coming from me—the outfit kept me comfortable in temperature.
My mom’s laugh echoed across the lawn, drawing my attention from my thoughts to where she sat on a golf cart with Mrs. Carter, Mrs. Ross, and Mrs. Gates. The familiar faces of the women I’d grown up around made me smile as I wondered briefly how I would ever move away from all of this. Did I have to? Probably.
I mean, even if I could stay at home forever, eventually the guys would move away… and I didn’t want to hang around while they got married and started families. I was willing to deal with a lot, but I knew I couldn’t go through that.
Now that we were done with school, I just had to figure out how I wanted to handle all of that. Did I put distance between us? Did I start dating? I didn’t like that train of thought, so I shook it from my headspace, knowing it didn’t really belong there. I had time. We were young, so I wouldn’t worry about it yet.
Haven Ross, Kingston’s mom, sat next to my own mom and talked in a low, hushed whisper, no doubt gossiping about some of the other women and their husbands, who were following a few holes behind us. I knew there was a particular family Mrs. Ross disliked, but I didn’t know them personally. I couldn’t even remember their names. Still, I trusted her opinion, and if she knew something that made her not like them, it was no doubt accurate.
I had to give her this—the woman knew everyone’s business. No, really, I meant that. She literally had information on everyone, and while usually she had a light-hearted tone to her, I did feel like there was another side to her I wasn’t understanding fully. But that was a feeling that both Ross parents inspired, and it probably had to do with their lifestyle of working in international trade. My father had mentioned how tense it could be.
Usually, though, she was just Mrs. Ross. The woman who was like a second mom to me, loved gossiping, and had impeccable fashion sense. Heck, even my own mother admitted she had the best sense of style out of anyone she’d met. It was probably one of the reasons that she always came with whenever we went shopping. Throughout high school, she’d always come when I picked out dresses for events and dances. Mind you, she had a bit of a vested interest because I almost always went to dances with the boys as a group and she loved a good picture, but her opinion was still appreciated.