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“I feel for you. Emm and I never had to go through anything like that, even when we were keeping our relationship under wraps.” She patted him on the arm.
“It’s going to be fine. We talked about it, and he was…” Chip shook his head and said nothing more, since Tyler chose that moment to walk in with Emm.
“Hey, babe.” He leaned down and pecked Chip on the cheek.
“Since you aren’t tearing your hair out, I’m assuming the draw looks good?” Chip asked. The draw was the order of matches, and who was playing who.
“Yeah, I don’t face a seeded player until the last sixteen, and even then it’s potentially just a clay court guy who’s never gone deep in a grass-court tournament before. Damn, sounds like me.” He laughed. “Nobody really dangerous until the quarterfinals, so it’s the best I can hope for.” He sat down next to Chip and held his hand.
“Tina, let’s head back to our place. I need some rest. Tyler was a pain in the ass today.” Emm said, winking in Chip’s direction. The two women said their goodbyes and left.
“Where’s your aunt?” Tyler asked.
“She’s meeting friends for tea or something. She’s a real social butterfly, knows people in every country we travel to.” Chip said, shaking his head.
“Are you surprised?” Tyler laughed, then bent over and kissed his neck. Chip stiffened, and moved away an inch. Tyler pulled his head back and looked him in the eye. “What’s going on? Why the sad face?”
“I’m sorry, it’s just, I miss home. Sheila texted me again today, asking when I was coming back. I don’t know what to say to her.” Chip said.
“We’ve talked about this already. This is it, my last tournament. After Wimbledon, I’m hanging up my racket. Well, except maybe the odd tournament on the senior tour for some extra cash and to see old buddies. Tell her we’re heading home.” Tyler said.
“I never thought I’d be homesick for Hidden Creek, but I really miss it. I even miss being in the ambulance, though I hated having to be on time. Damn, I wish I could find a job where I didn’t have to clock in and out.” Chip said, winking at his boss.
“You’ve got a job like that already. Stop teasing me.” Tyler put his hands on Chip’s face and drew him in for a kiss. This time, Chip didn’t pull back, kissing Tyler back with a passion that scared him sometimes with its intensity. He did everything possible to keep his emotions in check when they were out in public, so when they had the rare private moment, they overwhelmed him. Tyler’s hands moved from behind his back to his chest, pushing him back.
“Now that we’re alone, I need to talk with you about something.” Tyler said. Chip lifted an eyebrow and crossed his arms over his chest.
“The next two weeks are the most important of my professional life. Honestly, I’m not going to be easy to be around. My entire focus is on winning this, and I don’t want you to think I’m ignoring you, or trying to keep you in the background. I know Paris was a… well, it was less than ideal. I’m doing everything I can to win this thing. Having you on my side means more than anything else to me.” Tyler’s dark eyes softened, and he leaned over and kissed Chip on the forehead.
“All I want after this tournament is to be with you. Starting tomorrow though, I’m going to be very focused on my game, and making it through the draw. If I seem distant, or emotional, please don’t take it personally. Grant and I will be speaking by phone daily now that he’s back in Houston, so that should help with the pressure. He also has me doing this meditation stuff to keep centered.” Tyler said.
Chip uncrossed his arms and took Tyler’s hand in his.
“I guess the one thing we haven’t talked about, and I’m scared to talk about it, is the elephant in the room.” Chip murmured, lifting his bright blue eyes to meet Tyler’s dark gaze.
“What are you talking about?” Tyler asked.
“Scott, and his player Travis. What happens if you have to play him? Are you going to throw the match to keep me a secret from the world?”
Chapter Twenty-One
Tyler- London
“Andy wasn’t able to compete at his usual level, obviously. He’s a great guy, and I’m sure he’s going to win more slams.” Tyler said, answering the reporter's question, while complimenting his friend and opponent. Beating guys you liked was never easy, but it was part of the job.
“Tyler, congratulations on making it through to the quarterfinals for the first time. Odds are looking good that you’ll finally win the career grand slam. How are you coping with the pressure?” A female reporter shouted above the others. He’d refused to answer questions about Paris, beyond giving a bland statement claiming fatigue and dehydration was the culprit behind his collapse. Questions about “pressure” rubbed him the wrong way.
“I’m taking it one match at a time. I can’t allow myself to look forward too much.” Tyler answered, an edge to his usual smooth voice. He hated the mandatory press conference after each match. All players hated them, especially when they lost. Luckily for Tyler, his opponent had struggled to finish the match with a bum hip.
“What do you think of the next generation of players coming up?” Another voice called out. He couldn’t identify which reporter had asked the question, but decided to answer since it was a safe one.
“I think they’re doing great. I’m getting up there in years, and so are many of the other players. Soon you’ll have a bunch of new guys to bother with these questions.” His flippant answer didn’t go unnoticed. A tense giggle traveled through the sea of reporters. Tyler always did what was required with the press, but he wasn’t known for being open or friendly either.
The woman in charge of the press tent signaled him from the back of the hall to end the interview. Tyler sighed with relief, then stood.
“Thanks guys.” He walked off the stage, and immediately texted Chip.
Be there in a few
