Page 46 of The Backup Groom

“I’m serious,” I said. “The clock is ticking while I wait around for that judgment to arrive in the mail. Meanwhile, some guy is going to come along and sweep Amber off her feet as I sit around twiddling my thumbs.”

If I had that judgment letter from the court, Dean and I wouldn’t even be having this conversation because I would be a single man asking Amber out on an actual date.

“So, no updates from Iggy today?” he asked.

“Nope,” I answered.

“Sorry, buddy,” he said. “I would bet an enormous pile of money that you’re already divorced right now, but there was a mix-up with letting you know.”

The thought had also crossed my mind.

But the county website warned people to not assume they’re divorced until there is a judgment filed, signed by a judge.

“Without that official judgment, my hands are tied,” I said, glancing up at the time on the microwave. “Anyway, I have to go now. I need to relax and enjoy my time with her. As friends. There’s not much else I can do at this point.”

“You need to act like a normal man and hide your emotions like the rest of us. It works wonders and helps you avoid awkward conversations. But if you can’t handle that, just ask yourself . . . what would Spock do?”

“It’s not that simple.” I went for my keys and the rest of the protein bar so I could leave. “Especially since I’ve never felt this way before.”

“Not even with Bellatrix?” Dean asked, referring to my soon-to-be ex-wife.

He liked to compare Tiffany to the frizzy-haired, ruthless Death Eater Bellatrix Lestrange from Harry Potter. Not that Tiffany was all that ruthless (although she had her moments) but more because they both had high-pitch cackles instead of normal laughs.

“I should have seen the red flag when I didn’t have butterflies in my stomach with Tiffany,” I said, never being able to bring myself to calling her Bellatrix, no matter how unreliable she was as a partner. “Am I crazy for thinking I have a chance with Amber?”

“You’re just crazy, which covers a lot of areas that I’m not qualified to talk about without a psychology degree and/or a six-pack of Corona,” Dean said.

I laughed, feeling more relaxed. “Thanks. That makes me feel better, I think. Talk to you later.” I disconnected the call and drove over to PB Park, trying to figure out my next move.

“Take a deep breath,” I whispered to myself. “Relax.”

That would not be easy. Especially after I got out of the car and spotted Amber warming up on the first court. She wore a white tennis skirt that hung down to the middle of her thighs and a teal, sleeveless top that hugged her curves.

Amber waved at me with a vibrant smile that did something to my heart.

Concentration was going to be key for me to win, so I could find out what was going on with her and all those guys. That would require me to stay out of my head.

I waved back, playing it cool, walking in her direction.

No big deal.

It’s just me and Amber playing tennis.

Nothing more.

Like a walk in the park.

At that precise moment, I tripped over a sprinkler as I cut across the grass. Luckily, I kept myself from doing a face-plant, but since Amber had seen my graceless moment, I added a silly dance step to save face.

Hopefully, she bought it, because my head was a jumbled mess. I was so nervous that instead of saying hello, I changed my mind mid-word, opting to say hi instead.

Unfortunately, it came out as, “Hell . . . Hi.”

When had I turned into a blithering idiot?

Amber’s bottom lip quivered. “And ahell-hito you as well.” She signaled to the grass area where I tripped. “What happened to you over there?”

“Oh that? I was trying out a new dance move from a video I saw on TikTok,” I lied. “I need to practice a little more but I’ll nail it at some point.”