Page 88 of Parker

I find her in the lodge kitchen with her Gran and Paw-Paw, jazz music on the old CD player and a mountain of clean dishes on the center island. They’re wrapping everything back up so it can be stored in the basement until the tourists return in May.

“Quinn!” cries Gran, crossing the kitchen to give me a hug. “You come to help?”

I spin her around to the beat of a short trumpet solo. “No, ma’am. I came to steal Parker for a few minutes. Is that okay?”

“Sure thing. I could use a break. Two hundred plates, two hundred cake plates, three hundred cups and glasses. Whew!” She looks at her husband, who’s smoking a pipe by an open window. “Maybe we don’t do a big shindig next year.”

Paw-Paw laughs. “You always say that the week after, and we always have another big party the following year.”

Parker finishes placing a large serving bowl in an open box, then precedes me out of the kitchen, into the lodge’s great room.

“Is everything okay?” she asks over her shoulder, as the kitchen door swings closed.

God, I hope so.

“Can we sit and talk a minute?” I ask her.

She’s so beautiful, with her blonde hair braided, wearing a plaid flannel, jeans, and furry slippers.Please don’t break up with me. Please don’t say this is over. Please.

“Sure,” she says, her eyes soft and concerned. She takes my hand and leads me over to a sofa by the windows. Once we’re seated side by side, she turns to me. “What’s up?”

I look into her eyes, searching for a clue—and thank goodness, I don’t see rejection—but I still can’t account for thechanges over the last few days. They have me worried. I need to know what’s up.

“Are we okay?” I ask.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, we’re not having sex as much, and you seem…distant. And distracted. And maybe a little bit jumpy. If I’m not the cause, I want to be there for you. And if I am the cause, I want to fix whatever’s throwing you off.”

She nods, which I take as her acknowledgment that she’s been “off.” Then she looks up at me, her face registering nervousness. My heart skips a beat. I take her hands in mine.

“Baby, please,” I say. “You’re scaring me. I don’t want to lose you. I can’t—”

“You’renotlosing me,” she says, her eyes wide and voice firm. “I’m not going anywhere, Quinn. I love—I love…being your girlfriend. I’m in this. I’m all in.”

Whew.“Okay.” I exhale lustily, pulling her into my arms. “Oh, man, I’m so relieved. I don’t know, Park. I was thinking that maybe you—”

“But somethingisup,” she says. “You’re not imagining things.”

I draw back quickly, still holding her, but looking into her eyes. “What? What’s up? Are you okay? Are you sick or something? What’s going on?”

“You just asked me if youwerethe cause ornotthe cause of whatever’s going on with me,” she says, “and the truth is…you are.”

“What? I am? Or I’m not? What are you saying?”

She bites her lip, looking down at her lap. Taking a deep breath, she raises her head and looks into my eyes, her expression resolute.

“Remember Vegas?”

“Every second.”

“Remember when we were having sex, and I asked you to stop—”

“Yes! Of course! You remembered you weren’t on the pill. You asked me to stop.”

“Right. And you pulled out.”

“Absolutely. Just as soon as you asked.”

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