Spencer nods. “Thank you.”
He’s sad. I wish like hell I could fix this. Seeing his hurt tears me apart. But I can see his strength, too, so I keep myself together for his sake.
“Tell me what I can do to help,” I tell him. “Whatever you decide. Whenever.”
He reaches up and pushes my hair back. “Okay.” We gaze at each other in silence until Spencer glances around the honeymoon suite, blinking at it like he’s seeing it for the first time. “We have this booked for a week.”
I laugh. “We sure as hell do.”
My man sits up fully. “I’ve got to train. I’m out of the tournament, not out of the season. But there’s no reason I can’t do it while staying in this room with you.”
“Nothing less than a Masters Tournament can steal your attention from me. Would you normally go home once you’re out?”
“I always make sure to attend a couple matches. Be a good sport and scout my competition.” He stares at me for a second and then blurts out laughing.
“What?” I drag my hand through my hair, straightening it out. “Do I look funny?”
“No, I just had the thought that we should go to Everett’s match for the photo op. But there’s really no reason to stage photos anymore, is there?”
I laugh. “I guess we’ve gone full circle.”
Spencer blinks. “Holy shit. We’re married.”
“There is that.”
He rubs his hand over his face. “Okay. Well.” He looks at me. “I don’t want to divorce you. But despite my gushy feelings, this is a bit early in the relationship for me to consider a lifetime commitment.”
“Don’t overthink it. We’ll figure out what to do about the marriage later. Everett’s game, though. You wouldn’t feel weird attending after the match?”
Spencer shakes his head. “If I had played poorly, I would. I’d be embarrassed. But we brought the best out of each other. Matches like that are rare. And however mad I am at myself for losing, I should redouble my focus on studying his game anyway. We’ll face each other again, maybe even before France.”
I smile at him, admiring his pure passion. “I’ve never met anyone like you, Spencer.”
He looks pleased by that, but chuckles. “God help me if I ever meet anyone else like you.”
I laugh and give him a shove right as the door buzzes. “That must be the burgers and beer.”
He chuckles. “A perfect honeymoon.”
Spencer fucks me again that night, and with a second beer to celebrate, we both fall asleep before late. I wake with him early. We work together in silence, him stretching and me with my guitar. When we stop to grab a quick breakfast on the way to the tournament, the flashing cameras and warm attention feel familiar and new at the same time.
No more faking. No more pretend.
Back in my black leather jacket, I pull Spencer to my side as we sign a couple of quick autographs. There’s no pretense, and when my hand lands on his lower back, he slides in close next to me.
We’re together. This is real.
Reggie is at Everett’s match, cheering beside us. I wasn’t sure if Spencer would put some of his old walls up being so publicly gay at a tennis event, but he doesn’t balk. He comes alive beside me, his body echoing the game with every caught breath, all of his attention on the court. I get wrapped up in it with him, and we quickly start rooting with Reggie for Everett, who takes a decisive lead as the match stretches on, ultimately winning.
Reggie grabs my shoulder when it’s all done. “Love watching tennis with you, man.” He nods to Spencer. “And you, too. We’ll have to get together in Seattle some time, yeah? Shoot the shit? Pump some iron? Maybe invite Fox, too?”
I glance to Spencer. What he said earlier about wanting us to have friends rings in my ears, and despite the fact that Reggie’s sincere nature would normally make me balk at something too intimate, I nod.
“Definitely. Just give me a call.”
When Reggie goes to join his husband, I lean in close to Spencer. “I’m organizing social dates with the other tennis husbands now.”
“One day, you’re just casually marrying a stranger. The next, you’re forced to make new friends with him. It’s really endless.”
