Page 126 of The Americana Playbook

“Parker.” Nick’s eyes flick at Agent Samuels. “Do you mind if I come in for a second?”

“Oh, sure. I was just about to make some coffee.” I step aside so Nick can walk through. “Can I get you a cup?”

“No, nothing for me. But while I have you, I’m hoping you and I can have a little chat.”

While I haven’t spent much time with Nick, every other occasion, apart from our awkward first encounter, has been relatively pleasant. So I’m not sure why the air has grown thick and uneasy.

“Listen, Parker,” Nick begins. “When we were sitting right here in this kitchen months ago, discussing yourarrangement, I had my concerns. To be honest, I told Fitz that it was a one-way ticket to heartbreak.”

“I’m not following.”

Across from me, Nick leans against the island. “I can’t have him up half the night worrying because you don’t answer the phone, that’s one thing.”

“I was sleeping,” I say. “That’s something most people do at night.”

“I need his head in the game. I can’t have it anywhere else. I hoped, with you two just putting on a show, Fitz could do that. But since there’s more here…”

More?

Nick sighs. “Well, I just need you to put in the work. Your husband is so head over heels, he might not be thinking straight about football, because he’s thinking aboutyou. And, for the record, I’m in favor of this, of you two, now more than ever. Because of everything with Foller, well, it’s not that you two together is a distraction. It’s that your love isn’t controversial. And I’m happy for him. I don’t tell him this, but I worried that guy would make his entire life about football and wake up one day when it’s over full of regret. I’m extra happy he gets that happily ever after with the girl he told me about years ago.”

I swear, the room sways.Years ago?

“So Fitz told you about everything?” I push for clarification. “He told you about us?”

Nick nods. “Look, I might represent him, but he’s still my friend. Of course I’m happy that the guy locked down the girl who got away. I mean, that tattoo? If it wasn’t in such a taboo place”—he laughs—“I’d have him mention it publicly.”

I stop breathing.

Images of Fitz flash before my eyes, but particularly one—us in bed that night in the White House. Around the mug, my fingers flex the way they did against the back of his neck that night in the dim—but not totally dark—room. I see no tattoos on his skin, nothing on his chest, his shoulders. But then I remember the way I pulled at his underwear and how he moved my hand away.

“I can’t,” he pants. “We won’t be able to handle it.”

Of all the things I imagined Fitz was talking about, none of them had anything to do with something he might be hiding from me.

“You two.” He laughs. “Rebels only, right?”

My eyes fly up to his.

“It’s a pretty cute story when you think about it.” Nick’s smile disappears and his face grows serious. “Just, please. I need you to be better with communicating, especially if he’s on the road. I get this is new territory for you. But you’re a part of his team as much as I am. Do you understand?”

I finally do.

For Fitz, nothing has been fake this entire time.

“Welcome back, sir.”

I offer Agent Samuels a small salute as enter the apartment, tossing the garment bag I picked up on my way home to the bench. I’ll admit, I had a bit of a sour taste in my mouth the last few days, and not just because camp was brutal, but because the distance from Parker was starting to get to me.

But when I see her, standing there as if she’s been waiting for me, a vision in a loose red dress sundress hanging off her shoulders by two thick straps and a pair of crisp white sneakers, everything else is long forgotten.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” I draw out as I wait while she stands there with her arms dangling at her sides.

But fuck waiting. The toes of her shoes dig into my calves when I lift Parker up.

“Hi,” I say it differently this time, taking in gulps of her scent, the warmth of her body, the softness of the ends of her hair that brush against my arms around her back.

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