Emma

After the round, we find a four-top table on the patio of the club, where the guys order water for Rachel and me, beers for them, and appetizers. We’ve finished our first drink and ordered a second when Justin groans audibly.

“This can’t be happening,” he grumbles, looking to Tag.

“Brace yourselves; here comes Justin’s parents,” he warns, chuckling.

Rachel and my heads turn toward an older couple walking up the sidewalk from the putting greens. ...