Page 8

Somehow, I didn’t exactly imagine myself sitting on the steps of a rundown apartment building with twelve cookie cakes stacked next to me today. Call me crazy, but when someone tells me Yes, that works , I usually believe that yes, it indeed works.

Apparently that’s not what Parker meant.

I take my damn cakes—because birthday or not, Parker doesn’t deserve them—and begin walking down the street to where I parked my car, looking like an absolute idiot. I’m halfway down the block when a large, blacked-out SUV zooms past me, and my head swings back toward Parker’s apartment where the vehicle stops.

A man decked out in a suit gets out from the front passenger door and opens the back.

With her head down, Parker charges toward her building, and as soon as the guy is back in the car, the SUV drives off.

I begin to jog—not an easy feat, considering I can hardly see over the stack of bakery boxes.

“Parker!”

She jumps, fumbling with her keys. “It’s not a great time, Fitz.”

“Not a great time? You could’ve let me know that an hour ago.” I glance down the street, but the SUV has already disappeared. “Was that your dad?”

“If that was my dad, there’d be a motorcade.”

“If you had something going on, you could’ve told me.” I shift to balance the boxes.

She fishes one of her keys into the lock. “I didn’t have plans. Please, it’s not a good time. I’m sorry.”

Today isn’t a good time. The night after the Super Bowl wasn’t a good time.

She opens the glass door, and I step forward, holding it with my hip because, even though I might be an idiot and she an insensitive asshole, I was raised as a gentleman.

“Tomorrow won’t be a good time either.” I follow her into the small lobby, taking in the dirty floor, the few broken mailboxes built into the wall.

“Since you’ll be on a flight back to Boston, I imagine it won’t be,” Parker says over her shoulder as she makes her way to a door opening to the stairwell, even though we’ve passed an elevator.

“Yeah, exactly.” I trail her, stubbing my toe on the first step because I can’t fucking see anything. “And tell me, Parker, even if I stayed in town, what excuse would you give me tomorrow, hm?”

Parker says nothing, continuing up the stairs.

“Why didn’t we take the elevator?” I ask.

“Aren’t professional athletes supposed to be in shape?” Parker snarks, pushing open a door. “If we took the elevator, we’d be stuck in there for two days. Things aren’t exactly up to code around here.”

I press the stack of boxes against the wall beside her apartment.

She turns the key in the bottom lock before slipping another into the bolt and whipping to face me. “Fitz, what are you doing here?”

“We had plans,” I remind her. “You’re the one who couldn’t bother to text me and?—”

“I couldn’t have my phone!” Parker’s face wrinkles with frustration. “No, it wasn’t my dad. It was my sister. And my mom and… I just can’t now. And maybe we should take it as a sign, you know? Maybe it was a mistake that I reached out at the club and…”

She shakes her head before squeezing her eyes shut.

“Parker…” I take a deep breath and step closer. “If you?—”

“Do you remember Camden Holdings?”

I jut my head back, thinking for a moment. “Cam Holdings from Thacher?”

Parker nods.

“Yeah. Guy was a total douchebag,” I say. “Why?”

“Right?” Parker spins, leaning against the door and breaking into a fit of uncontrollable laughter.

I scratch my head. “But… what does seeing your family have to do with Cam exactly?”

I’ve always heard you should never ask questions you’re afraid to know the answers to. When Parker’s laughter dies down and silence floats between us, I immediately regret mine.

* * *

“Married.”

Parker nods.

“Married?”

“Yes, Fitz. Married.”

We’ve been sitting on the couch in Parker’s living room for twenty minutes. I’ve listened while Parker talked quietly, telling me about the trust fund she’ll only be able to access once she’s married, how her mother suggested she date Cam with the purpose of doing that.

“What is this, some sort of arranged marriage? To Cam ?”

Parker shrugs gently. “I guess it’s more of dating with the intent to marry. They’ve fished but haven’t pitched it to him yet, or so they say. But… there’s more.”

I don’t need any more. “I’ll give you the money. Whatever it is, I’ll match it. Without strings. Tell your family to piss off. I’ll call my accountant, and you’ll have it in a day.”

She sighs. “You’re not doing that. You worked hard for that money. And?—”

“This is going to sound incredibly pompous, especially after what I did on the roof,” I say, holding out a hand, “but speaking from experience, when someone tells you they have more money than they know what to do with, it’s the truth.”

I own my luxury apartment. I’ve got a slick BMW and a truck. I bought my mom a house. I still have more than I can spend living the way I do, which is focused on one thing—football.

“It’s not just the trust, Fitz. They’re offering me Captain’s Cottage if I participate in his campaign. That’s the whole plan with Camden. He’s a young congressman. He’s endorsed my father. We look good, the two of us, and we’ll look better helping campaign for my dad. That’s what matters.”

They look good?

I grind my teeth together to keep from snapping at Parker that there’s more to life than a house . But I know to Parker, it was Honey’s house. That’s what made it a home to her.

Parker goes silent for a minute and I try to come up with some sort of play to change this game. But she’s beaten me to it.

“That’s what they think,” Parker hums. “But I’d rather die than give them what they want.”

I shift on the couch. “How exactly do you get what you want without giving them everything they want?”

“I told them I couldn’t get married because I’ve been seeing someone.”

I freeze. “Are you?”

Please say no, please say no.

“Seeing someone? No.”

Relief whooshes through me so intensely I nearly collapse back on the couch.

“No, relationships,” Parker continues, “They aren’t really for me. I kind of come with a lot of baggage.”

Fuck. The way her voice softens with sadness has a chokehold on my heart.

“You?” I ask gently. “Or Clara ?”

“I don’t really know anymore.”

There’s a gloom surrounding Parker. It makes me feel bad, of course, because I don’t want to see her sad. But I feel worse because I don’t know if she’s been without that cloud since Honey died. And after all these years, in the back of my mind even though I could never imagine where Parker went or where she was, at the very least, I hoped she was happy. Convincing myself of that made it easier to tolerate her absence.

As much as I’m elated to be here beside Parker, a deeper part of me is holding on to the dream version because the reality of Parker’s situation—going by a different name, living in this shit hole—absolutely bites.

“But I won’t,” Parker begins, pulling me from my thoughts. “I won’t let them just do what they want with me. Not again.”

My eyebrows creep together. “What do you mean not again ?”

She tucks her chestnut brown hair behind her ear. “I know you say you’re not upset with me. I just want you to know I never wanted to go away. All those years ago, I mean. It wasn’t really my choice.”

I could lie this time and say I’m not upset.

“I guess I can understand it wasn’t your choice to go away to school. But it was your choice to stay away.” I pause, looking around. “It was your choice to?—”

“To what, Fitz? To end up here?”

I tsk. “I mean, you’ve been hiding, but obviously, since your sister showed up here, either not well or just in plain sight by choice. You sought me out, not the other way around. If you didn’t slip me that napkin, I never would’ve known you were there. I wouldn’t be here now.”

“What’s your point?” Parker asks.

I look around the apartment, taking in the old floors in need of retiling, the peeling paint on the wall peeking out from behind the curtain. “Maybe you want to go home. Maybe you miss your family.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.” Her voice is stern. “That’s absurd.”

“Is it?” I challenge. “How long have you been away from them?”

“Since the last night I saw you .” Parker nods when she sees the shock on my face. “Yeah. I’ve seen my sister three times since then, and my mother once. My dad? None. So I’d say I’ve been away from them long enough I shouldn’t trust a word they say. She’ll never give me that house. That’s the Montgomery legacy. She just thinks I’m stupid enough to fall for a trap.”

I’m hit with a sense of nervousness as I stare at Parker—her dark eyes glaze over, her mouth purses and swishes side to side.

Fuck. I know that look. I’ve seen that look dozens of times. Parker is scheming. This can’t be good.

“And you know what?” She hops off the couch and moves into the kitchen area, grabbing a fork and sliding a cookie cake from the stack. Lifting the lid, she begins digging with the utensil. “I’m going to do it.”

I walk over to where she stands, and she offers me a fork while putting a bite in her mouth. But I can’t think about eating right now.

“What do you mean you’re going to do it? If you know the house is off the table, why bother involving yourself with the campaign at all?” I run a hand over my face. “Parker, listen, I know your family is extreme . I know you’re on the outs with them. I get that. But just let me give you the money and?—”

“I get that you have it now, and it might seem to solve all your problems—if you have any at all—but money won’t fix the ones I have,” she fires. “Trust me. If finding a rich guy were the solution, I could’ve handled this years ago.”

The thought of Parker with any guy—douchey Cam or some sleazy stranger—makes me my ears ring.

“So unless you’re planning to marry me,” she says, pausing to swallow her food. “Keep your judgmental thoughts to yourself.”

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 but you .”

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 not wife enough 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 need one reason 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.”

Like always, I try to give her an out from this wild idea. But this isn’t breaking onto school grounds or sneaking into a movie we shouldn’t be seeing. This is faking a marriage while her father is the president .

“You pump fakes for a living, Fitzy. I’m just asking you to read from a different playbook.”

And then it hits me. Parker might think we’re calling one play, but maybe, I can run another—the quarterback sneak. I can be the fake husband she wants while proving that maybe, I’m really the man for her after all.

“Fuck it. I’ll do it.”

Parker’s mouth opens with a gasp that isn’t even halfway out of her mouth before she leaps at me.

I slip my arms around her while hers tighten around my neck. “I’m warning you in advance. I probably won’t be able to top this gift next year.”

But I love a challenge , I think to myself. I’m sure as hell going to try .

Parker smiles, sighing as she slides back down onto the ground. “This is the best one yet. Way better than that one at the roller rink when I turned ten.”

“You were nine.” I correct her. I pocket my hands because they’re itching to touch her again. “Someone bought the wrong candle, so Honey just turned the six upside down and stuffed it into the cake. You blew out one of her matches because there was no wick on the bottom end.”

A softness glazes over her eyes. “You remember that?”

“I told you,” I remind her. “Nothing about you is easy to forget.”

We hold each other’s gaze in silence, but I wonder if my eyes say what I think.

You’re impossible to forget because you’re in my heart.

This time, when Parker hugs me, she does so slowly, inching forward and wrapping me up by the middle. My chin lands on the top of her head.

“Thank you, Fitz.”

The whisper of her warm breath coats my skin even through my t-shirt, and I have to really focus on not getting lost in the feeling, knowing I’m going to be doing a lot of that from now on. Finally, after a moment, I find the words.

“All for one and one for all, right?” I joke as Parker breaks the embrace again.

“That’s The Three Musketeers , Fitzy.”

“Right, sorry,” I clear my throat. “You and me, we’re something else.”

Parker nods. “Rebels only.”