I was on my second beer when my phone vibrated in my pocket. It was a message from Kendra.
Kendra: Hello, Mr. Superstar Goalie. Any clue on when you'll be home?
Tyler: I'm honestly not sure, but I can call you. I'm out with the guys celebrating.
She didn't reply, and I was almost about to call her when a message popped up.
Kendra: Okay. Never mind. Just forget about my question. We can talk tomorrow.
Yeah, right. I didn't like this one bit, so I gestured for the guys to be quiet. All I got instead were catcalls.
"Are you all five years old?" I said before walking away from the group.
I stepped outside and called Kendra back.
She answered after the third ring in a high-pitched voice. "Hey.”
"Babe, what's up?"
“Nothing. Just go have fun with the guys, and don’t worry about me.”
"It's me. I can tell you're nervous. What is it? Where are you?"
"Nooooo. Why did you ask me that? I didn't want to lie to you."
Alarm bells rang in my mind. "Babe?"
"I'm at your condo, and I blanked out on the fact that you’d go celebrate."
"You're at my place now?" I asked.
"Yeah."
"Put the doorman on the phone."
"Why?"
"So I can tell him to let you in."
"Oh, okay. Here he is."
"Mr. Maxwell," he said in his usual no-nonsense tone.
"Hi. Kendra's my girlfriend, and you can let her in upstairs."
"Of course. I’ll do that right away."
"Put her back on, please."
"Yes, sir. And if I might say so, excellent game."
"Thanks."
Interesting.He was so serious all the time that I wouldn't have pegged him for someone who watched hockey.
“I’m back,” Kendra said.
"Okay. He’ll take you upstairs. And I'll be home in however long it takes me to get from here to the condo."
