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“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.

I’m so focused on drinking her in that it takes me a second to realize it’s not just her voice that isn’t the same. Her hug, her touch, is all off.

Slowly, I lower Parker. She rests her hands against my chest for a moment before tapping them and stepping back. “We need to hurry. There probably will be traffic.”

“You sure we haven’t been married longer than we really are?”

Parker raises an eyebrow in question.

I sigh. “I haven’t seen you in two weeks , and that’s what I get? Traffic?”

Parker smiles, but I can tell it’s forced. “I’m sorry.”

I point to my lips. “You can kiss me and make it better.”

She also points to her mouth. “Lipstick.”

I wait because that must be a joke. That should be a joke and the only punchline? A kiss.

But nothing.

Parker eyes the dry cleaning bag before heading into the kitchen. “I would’ve picked that up for you like a good wife.”

It takes everything I have in me not to snap back and suggest that good wives kiss their husbands after they’ve been away. But I proceed carefully.

“What’s wrong?”

At the fridge, Parker shakes her head, pulling out the bottle of lemonade. “Nothing.”

“It doesn’t seem like nothing. I haven’t been home?—”

“Fitz,” Parker interrupts me. “I’m about to go to an alumni event at a school that basically kicked me out. Give me a little break. I’m allowed to be a little uncomfortable tonight.”

Immediately I soften because I feel like an asshole. She’s right. “We don’t have to go, you know. We could just hang out here.”

I offer her an out even though I’m all in when it comes to tonight. Because tonight, I get the do-over that’s been more than a decade in the making. It’s what I’ve been dreaming about for years.

“We RSVP’d.” Parker takes a long sip of her drink. “We have to go.”

I tongue my cheek in thought. “Maybe this will make you more comfortable.”

I leave Parker in the kitchen and return to the entry, picking up the dry cleaning bag and discarding it along with the hanger.

“You’re with me,” I tell Parker as I return to the kitchen. “No one will mess with you.”

“Is that your old letterman jacket?”

“It is,” I tell her, confirming that yes, the navy felt-like jacket with the white leather sleeves and the number 5 on the front is, in fact, the same thing I used to wear while swooning after her in the halls of where we’re about to go. I turn it so she can see the embroidery I had the tailor add to the back— Rhodes in a light pink cursive stitching above Thacher Football . “But with an upgrade.”

Once again, it’s a forced smile that doesn’t rise to Parker’s eyes. “That’s cute.”

God, I imagined this going in a totally different direction.

I lower the jacket. “Cute is for guys you kiss on the cheek.” My tone is harsh, even if the words are playful.

But Parker doesn’t seem bothered by it. She steps forward, taking the jacket from me.

“It’s a little warm,” she says. “But I’ll bring it. Why don’t you go get ready?”

* * *

Coach Foller once told me on this very campus that I had a big set of balls for a quarterback.

I took the compliment because I get it. Quarterbacks who can really run the ball are a rare breed. The truth is, there’s a difference between bravery and determination, and when I’m running with that ball, I’m scared of the hit I know will come unless I give myself up and slide. But I’m determined to get as many yards as I can before I surrender. And that’s exactly how it’s been with Parker. I’ve never been brave enough to tell her the truth. I was just hoping I’d get as far as I could before lying down in front of her and saying Here I am . And tonight was supposed to get me major yardage in my rush for her love. This was where I was going to show how far back it goes—all the way. Instead, Parker’s coldness has me ready for tomorrow and to pretend that today and whatever comes tonight never happened.

We walk side by side along the path flanked by lush grass behind the schoolhouse where check-in is while Agent Samuels follows. Parker doesn’t ask or order him to sit back and off to the side like she might normally.

I spin around. “You can wait somewhere else.”

Agent Samuels’s eyes drift to Parker.

“I’m her husband ,” I say, drawing his attention back to me. “If I can’t protect her from a rogue hamburger, I’m not sure you could either.”

This at least draws a snickering laugh from Parker, which I’m close to falling victim to, but as soon as it’s begun, Parker stifles it.

And at the check-in table, I fall victim to something else. A name tag.

Parker Rhodes.

It’s the first time I’ve seen her married name in print. It shouldn’t be bittersweet, but it is, because if Parker has thoughts on the cardstock she fastens to her dress with a safety pin, she doesn’t share them. And even though it makes my insides twist and turn, what really guts me is that she’s got my jacket draped over her arm.

Parker reaches for my hand, and I hardly hold it back. Because what’s the point? My work is basically done. We’re married. We plastered our wedding all over the press. Soon she can file the paperwork.

But finally, I do shelter her hand in mine. Because I’m weak, not brave. I’m weak for her . Because I know she’s anxious.

Fitzy!

I don’t know where to look but I do know where to start. “Bar.” I lead Parker away from the direction she’s heading in. Apparently, a family alumni barbecue isn’t the place to go when you need a real drink. It’s wine and beer tonight.

I smile at the bartender even though inside, I’m grimacing. “A Sam Adams, please. And a chardonnay.”

Parker’s eyes bore into me, as if she expected me to have a glass of orange juice.

“What?” I ask. “It’s been a long two weeks, if you even care. And I’m sure it’s some sort of rite of passage to drink on your high school campus. Not all of us were able to sip vodka out of a Sprite bottle. Some of us had other things to worry about besides getting hammered.”

Parker winces and that should make me reel it in and apologize. But I push through, pretending to be brave, to show Parker I won’t fucking bow to her.

When the bartender places our drinks in front of us, Parker clears her throat. “Actually, could I please have a seltzer?” she asks him before addressing me. “What’s your problem? You’ve been nothing but cold the entire car ride.”

“I’ve been nothing but cold?” I ask. “Says the ice queen who wouldn’t even kiss her husband after not seeing him for two weeks.”

Parker pouts. “I told you?—”

“Right.” I wave my hand. “Your makeup.”

“Fitz, I’ve had a lot on my plate while you were away and?—”

“What? Taking care of a horse that’s already taken care of twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week? One you didn’t even have to work to pay for?” I sip my beer, hoping it will wash away the bad taste these words leave in my mouth.

“If you’re going to be an asshole, go right ahead.”

Parker takes the soda water, leaving the wine—and me—behind, and crosses the grass to hug Congressman Cam.

* * *

I abandon my drink at a lone table sometime during one of the many surface-level conversations I have with old teammates and my former physics teacher, who I was convinced Coach once paid off so I wouldn’t fail because then I wouldn’t be able to suit up. If I get one more who would’ve thought you’d two end up married while I’m forced to watch Parker have plenty of one-on-one time with Congressman Cam, I’m going to lose it.

I stare at my letterman jacket that Parker left on the high-top table they stand at, like it’s an afterthought. Like I—her husband —am the afterthought. Every so often, her eyes drift over, searching for mine.

Fuck it , I think to myself. Let her put on a show .

But when Parker tosses her head back and laughs, reaching out to touch Cam’s arm, the sight of my ring has me on the move. I refuse to be humiliated.

I cross the grass, weaving in and out of alum who stare, and make my way to Parker.

“Fitzy.” Camden smiles. “We were just talking about you.”

I take Parker’s left hand. “I need to borrow my wife for a moment.”

With her free hand, Parker grabs her purse and my jacket, nearly falling but catching herself against me. All eyes are on us as I drag Parker onto the path and walk down along the back of the brick schoolhouse. I’m stomping so fast I don’t even have a second to decide where I’m taking her before we make it to a door I anticipate being locked.

But Mrs. Ford, our freshman Math teacher, steps out. “The bathrooms in the science wing are open,” she says.

“Th-thank you,” Parker stutters as we blow past. She stumbles on the small step of the entry as she tries to put all her weight back to stop me.

“Watch your step, wife.”

“Fitz! What are you doing? Everyone was staring!”

She tries to twist her arm free from my grasp, but I hold her tighter as I bring her down the hall.

I scoff. “Oh, now you’re worried about optics. You didn’t seem so concerned thirty seconds ago when you somehow found the nerve to flirt with another man in front of your husband’s entire graduating class!”

“Flirt! You have no idea what you’re talking about. I was?—”

Parker quiets when I push open a classroom door at the end of the hall and drag her into a science lab.

With both of us inside, I slam the door shut. When I face her again, the look she gives me should be more than enough to calm down and apologize.

“I was not flirting with Cam, Fitz. You’re being ridiculous.”

“Sure as hell looked like it.”

Parker stamps her foot, clearly annoyed.

But there’s no way in hell she’s more frustrated with me than I am with her at the moment. I’m actually past the point of frustration. I’ve had enough of the lies, the secrets, the stonewalling.

“What do you mean now I’m concerned with how things look,” she repeats, her eyes flicking around the classroom.

“You are.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” I begin, “you’re only worried now because of what people might think about me dragging you down the hallway.”

Parker snorts. “Well, yeah. It doesn’t exactly do much for your Mr. Nice Guy image, that’s for sure. Or us ,” she adds on. “We’re newlyweds.”

“You’re right,” I snap. “Act like one.”

“What’s your problem?”

I rip the name tag from her dress. Her hand immediately flies to the spot.

“Can you read?” I hold up the tag for her. “In case you forgot how to, let me sound it out for you. This”—I point—“says Rhodes . You shouldn’t even need it. You walked in that room holding my hand. You’re wearing my ring. Are those goddamn diamonds not big enough for you? Because if they’re too small to remind you you’re married , that’s an easy solution. I’ll make a call and find a jeweler open right now and put a bigger rock on your finger so I’m impossible to forget.”

“You?” she asks. “Or the marriage.”

“What?”

“You said so I’m impossible to forget , Fitz.”

“It’s,” I say. “I meant it’s .”

It’s me. I’m the fucking it.

I point at her name tag. “It says?—"

“I know what it says, Fitz. Why don’t you let me take a stab at your tattoo and see if I can read that too?”

I take a step back, having to lean against the table.

Parker places her purse and my jacket on a metal stool. “Yes,” she says. “I know about the tattoo. So that means I know you’ve been lying to me this entire time.”

I run my tongue along the inside of my bottom lip to buy a second. “I told you?—”

“I’d be really concerned if you went around tattoo-ing secrets you share with all your crushes if I were you.”

“Don’t change the subject, Parker,” I snap defensively. “You were being inappropriate and immature.”

“This means a lot coming from someone who can’t even address how he feels about me. Stop pretending like this is about Camden, Fitz.”

I straighten, pushing off the table. “Yes, it’s about you talking with Camden ,” I say mockingly, wiggling my fingers. “Have you forgotten that’s the guy your parents wanted to set you up with?”

“You brought me here! And we were talking…” Parker squeezes her eyes shut. “You know what? I don’t have to explain myself to you. I did nothing wrong, and you’re acting like a possessive jackass!”

I whip out my phone. “Possessive jackass? I’ll show you possessive jackass.”

“What are you doing?” she asks.

“Texting my accountant to make a donation to the guy Cam is running against.”

“Do you even know who he’s running against?”

I throw my hands up. “What difference does it make?”

She pulls down my arm holding the phone. “Would you stop ?”

“What help did you need from him?” I challenge because this is where Parker is wrong. It’s not about her talking with him. It’s what they’re talking about. “Go on, tell me. And don’t even mention the word campaign .”

Parker looks away.

An uncomfortable laugh slips out of me. “This is what I’m talking about. You’re my wife. If you need something, you come to me. There’s no one in this world who will take care of you like I can. There’s…”

“There’s what?”

There’s no one in this world who will love you better than me.

I toss the thought to the side. “I’ve been taking care of you this entire time, and you just repay me by building that damn wall higher.” I kick the stool next to me, and Parker jumps.

“Stop pretending I’m the only one with secrets here, Fitz.”

“That’s what you don’t get.” I dip to get closer to her eye level. “Everything I’m doing for you is because of my secret, alright?”

Parker’s eyes widen.

“Me marrying you? That’s because of my secret. That’s because it’s been a lifelong dream of mine. Are you happy now?” I lift my arms and drop them down. “Is this how you needed to hear it? Fine. I love you. I’m in love with you in a way that makes me”—I ball my hands, lifting and shaking them—“out of my mind. I’d do anything for you. I want to give you the world. And that’s not money. It’s not a house or an apartment or a horse. Loving someone means taking away their worries. And fuck, Parker, you won’t let me.”

Parker’s mouth slowly falls open before she looks off to the side. “Well, since we’re being honest, that night after the engagement party, I messed everything up.”

Knowing where this is going, I clench my teeth and growl, “Don’t.”

But I should know. You can’t tell Parker what to do.

“Letting you touch me. Letting you hold me. Telling you what happened to me, it was a?—”

I step forward, silencing Parker with a finger against her lips. “Don’t you fucking say it.”

Her lips brush against my finger when she shakes her head. “I was wrong to cross that line with you before I knew everything, Fitz. You’re in too deep. And I?—”

“You could love me back.” The words take a lot to get out, like they’ve lodged themselves from the depths my aching heart. My hand falls to my side. “And save me from drowning.”

She steps back, squeezing her eyes shut.

Noise echoes down the hall, taking Parker’s attention. “We should go before people realize we’ve been gone for too long.”

My head drops, along with my heart. That’s how it is. It’s always about how it looks.

“Fitz,” she begins. “I’m sorry, I just?—”

“You only care about how it looks.”

She lets out a frustrated breath. “You just conveniently forget that we both entered this arrangement because we needed something.”

I raise and drop my arms in defeat. “I didn’t need a girlfriend, okay? Does it help? Sure. But that was Nick. He wanted me to do everything I could to separate myself from Foller publicly. But what I needed was a shot with you, Parker. I know you’ve lived your life thinking people only care about you when they want something, but that’s not me. I’ve never been that way.”

Parker’s eyes widen.

“That’s how real it is for me,” I say, continuing. “Your smile. Your happiness. You feeling safe . Those things are what matter because you matter.”

The way Parker steps away from me when I reach out to her, is like a knife to my chest.

“I wanted to show you how easy it is to love you without wanting or needing anything in return. And if you never love me back but believe that, I’ll be happy.” Slowly, I step forward because I can’t not be near her. “My greatest win won’t ever be on the field. It’ll be knowing I made you understand you could be loved exactly as you are with no strings attached.”

A soft cry escapes Parker’s mouth. I dip my head to hers when she reaches out, steadying her shaking hands on my waist.

“It’s easy to make it all about you, Parker. Because for me, it’s always—and only—been you.”