Page 79 of Wedge

The second one, Ben glances at the name on his list and goes very still for half a second before recovering. He got the whole lobby story from me on Sunday night.

“This next one,” he says, carefully, “Is Titan Polo. David Whitfield’s the rep.”

I feel my whole body go cold before my brain even catches up to why the name matters.

“David,” I repeat.

Adrian’s hand finds mine again, firmer this time. “Is that?”

“That’s him.” I clear my throat, forcing something calm into my voice. “Ben, is there someone else we could…”

“I can push him to next week if you want. Or hand it to a different account manager.” Ben’s already reaching for his phone, no judgment in it at all, just practical. “Your call. Both of you.”

Adrian looks at me, waiting, and I think about it instead of just reacting.

“Let’s talk to him, Stephen. Not his fault,” Adrian says.

“Bad judgment to marry her, but alright,” I agree. “Bring him in. I’m not hiding from the guy who dragged his own drunk wife off me. That’s not mine to be ashamed of.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

David walks in a minute later, and there’s a flicker of recognition when he sees me, something like an apology crossing his face before he even opens his mouth.

“Stephen,” he says. “I owe you an apology for that lobby scene, before we even start talking business.”

“You don’t owe me anything.” I shake his offered hand, surprising myself with how easy it actually is. “You got her off me. Faster than I managed.”

“She’s not my responsibility anymore, but old habits.” He winces, sitting down across from us, all business again once the awkward part’s out of the way. “Anyway. Titan Polo. We’re actually here because of you, Adrian, obviously, but also because of him.” He nods at me. “Word’s already getting around, the caddie who’s also the boyfriend, out and proud about it. We think there’s a good story there, if you two are interested in leaning into it rather than away from it.”

Adrian glances at me, something asking permission in it, and I nod, small, letting him know I’m okay with wherever this goes.

“We’re listening,” Adrian says.

David gathers his folder and heads out with a handshake and a promise to follow up by the end of the week. “The rest is numbers, and fair ones.”

Ben’s already flipping to the next name before the door’s fully shut.

“This one’s a bigger name,” Ben says. “Golf equipment, not apparel. Household brand. Worth hearing out, even if I’ve got reservations.”

“Reservations how?” Adrian asks.

“You’ll see. You decide. I will not do it ahead of you. I’m just bringing you the possibilities.” Ben doesn’t elaborate further, just waves the rep in, a guy named Craig, mid-fifties, expensive suit, cologne arriving half a second before he does, the kind of handshake that’s a little too firm like it’s compensating for something.

“Adrian, congratulations.” Craig sits without waiting to be asked, spreads a glossy folder across the table like he’s dealing cards. “Great story this week. Great finish. We’d love to have you in the family.”

“Appreciate that.”

Craig talks numbers for a while, solid ones, big ones, better than the polo company’s offer, and I watch Adrian’s face closely as the pitch unfolds, professional and polished right until it isn’t.

“One thing,” Craig says, and his tone shifts just slightly, casual in a way that doesn’t quite land as casual. “We love the story. Genuinely. But our customer base skews a little older, a little more traditional. We’d probably want to keep the marketing focused on the golf, you know? Let your game speak for itself. Maybe dial back some of the, ah, personal stuff. The relationship angle.”

The room goes quiet enough that I can hear the air conditioning cycle on.

“Dial it back,” Adrian repeats, flat.

“Not hide it, nothing like that, no. Just don’t lead with it. Keep the focus on the swing, the scores, that kind of thing.” Craig smiles, easy, like he thinks this is a reasonable ask. “You understand, I’m sure. Business decision, not personal.”