Page 24 of The Americana Playbook

Our eyes meet.

Parker drops the fork into the box and shuts it. Her eyes remain locked on mine while she twists at the waist, lowering it to the counter and sliding closer to me.

“Parker…” I’m not sure if I’m sounding the alarm because of her increasing proximity or whatever outrageous idea is about to come out of her mouth.

Both for me are dangerous.

“One year,” Parker whispers. “We get married for a year. And then we’ll get it annulled. A Divorce. Whatever.”

Now she has me looking around the room, like I’m waiting for a bunch of people to pop out with cameras and tell me this is a joke. It’s just no one happens to know there’s nothing funny about calling Parker my wife.

“Parker, you and me getting married is the same kind of absurdity as them forcing you to marry anyone else.”

She takes one step closer, swarming me in the scent of her shampoo floating from her hair. “It’s different.”

Parker is right.It’s different because I happen to be in love with her. Maybe that’s the only thing absurd about this, but it’s the truth. I loved her then, in high school. I don’t want to just keep loving her—I want her to know it too.

But going from trying to weasel my way back into her life to do that straight to marriage? That’s absurd.

“Fitzy, it would be different because I’m choosing you.”

Holding my hand out, I stop her. “It’s fraud.”

“People get married for all different reasons,” she says. “I’d offer you money, but I know you don’t need it. So no one is getting a payout here.”

“Yeah. No one butyou.”

Parker frowns. “Not in the way you think. I really don’t care about the money. And you said it at the club, Fitz. You’d never say no to me. Not for anything. Even after all this time.”

That was when I thought I could help Parker without putting my heart on the fucking line. Because that’s where it gets me—in a guillotine set to slice open my chest.

“I can’t. I won’t marry you,” I tell her.Not like this.No way in hell.

She leans back, holding her arms out to her side. Her face has hardened, her voice carrying an edge. “What? Am I notwifeenough for you,Captain America?”

I know she wants to bite me with her words. But the thing Parker might not know about me is that now, I bite back.

“That depends,” I tell her. “Give me a little spin, and I’ll let you know.”

“When did you turn into a pig?” she scoffs.

“The day you left.”

The soft fall of Parker’s face is something I know is going to stay with me even though I never want to see it again.

“Parker,” I begin. “I’ve got a million reasons why I can’t do this, and none of them are you.”

I hate that I have to lie. Parker is the only reason I can’t do this. I spent my whole life pretending I didn’t love her even long after she disappeared. And now, after returning like a ghost, she’s asking me to pretend to love her until death do us part.

Or until she flees again.

I’m struck by all the regret I felt back before Parker even left while she struggled, and long after she was gone.

I swallow. “But maybe I only needonereason to do it.”

Even against myself, I’m a competitive guy. I take detailed notes of the smile that blooms across her face, vowing to make it appear again and again, each time bigger and better than before.

“Us pretending to be married…” I lean against the counter only because in this small excuse for a kitchen I have nowhere to go. Parker is so close I’m one heavy exhale away from pressing my middle to hers. “It’s going to take some serious work.”

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