Page 8 of Parker

Something deep inside of me breaks as I consider a life without Parker.

It hurts to agree to this. I feel like I’m giving up on something that I want more than anything on earth, more than anything else in my life. But the reality is that I’m never going to get that something if I stay on this course.

Insanity is, after all, doing the same thing over and over again and hoping for a different outcome. And despite what Parker might think, I’m not actually insane.

And looked at in a different light, maybe agreeing to her requestisn’tgiving up. Maybe it’s just switching gears. Maybe it’s just changing direction. Maybe it’s admitting that if you want something—or someone—bad enough, you have to let her go first. Completely.

“Strangers,” I say softly. “Okay.”

I look away from her, over the heads of the people in front of me, wishing I could get the fuck off this plane and away from her.

“Thanks,” I hear her mumble, but I don’t look over, and I don’t answer.

There’s no need.

After all, we’re strangers now.

Chapter 2

Parker

At two hundred and twenty dollars a night, my room at the MGM Aria isn’t cheap, but I don’t care. Stewart Tours foots the bill, and besides, the Aria is one of my favorite hotels on the strip. Why? Because there’s a massive convention center built into the property, which is super convenient, and means I don’t need to leave the premises unless I feel like it. And in early-January? I might not. January in Vegas offers a dry, desert cold with most days hovering in the 30s and 40s. For an Alaskan girl like me, who’s used to a more humid cold, Vegas feels biting.

The last two times I visited Las Vegas, I did a ton of sightseeing. This time, my plan is just to stay put and enjoy everything the Aria has to offer: eighteen high-end and quick-service eateries, a spa, a nightclub, a concert venue, various lounges, bars and boutiques, a fitness center, three swimming pools (all closed for the winter), a business center, and, of course, a giant casino. There’s plenty to keep me busy. In fact, I can, literally, take an Uber from the airport to the strip, step inside the Aria, work my convention every day for a week, eat at a different restaurant for every meal, go shopping, dancing, or gambling in my free time, and Uber back to the airport a week later, all without ever stepping foot onto a Las Vegas sidewalk.

As I enter the climate-controlled lobby, my sneakers thud softly on the glistening marble floors. Overhead, giant glittering snowflakes are suspended from the ceiling of the three-story-high atrium, catching streams of sunlight from the many windows and shimmering like diamonds.

With no wait at the check-in desk, I step up to the counter and return the smile of the desk clerk.

“Welcome to the Aria,” she says. “Checking in?”

“Yes,” I say, sliding my ID and credit card across the counter. “I’m here for the Adventure Travel convention.”

“Great!” she chirps, her fingernails clacking on the keyboard under the counter. “Looks like you booked a Stay Well Deluxe King Room, but…” She bites her bottom lip, then looks up at me with a little grin. “We were able to upgrade you!”

“Really?”

She nods. “We love to give our travel partners the opportunity to see our higher-end rooms when they’re available.”

“That’s amazing. Thank you!”

“You got it,” she says, sliding blank room cards through a reader, and imprinting them with my room number. “So, instead of a Stay Well Deluxe King, we’ve got you in a Tower Suite with a whirlpool tub, living room, and access to our VIP Lounge.”

“Wow!” I can’t help the little giggle that escapes through my lips. I’ve heard of people being upgraded before, of course, but it’s never happened to me. I’m not embarrassed to admit that it’s exhilarating when it finally does.

“One thing, though,” says the desk clerk as she slides the keycard envelope to me. “The room won’t be ready for another forty-five minutes. You are welcome to relax in the Aria Sky Suites VIP Lounge. We offer complimentary drinks and snacks there.”

“Perfect. Thank you.”

She directs me across the lobby to a golden doorway, and I make my way down a bougie corridor to the lounge, taking a seat on a cobalt-blue velvet sectional. Sinking into the decadent plushness, I sigh, leaning my head back and closing my eyes.

Ahhh. This is the life. I could get used to—

“Thanks, man! I love a cold beer, you know?”

My eyes crack open as Quinn’s voice echoes like thunder through the soaring, mostly-marble lounge.

“Yes, sir. Nothing like it.”

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