Page 102 of The Americana Playbook

It’s hard for me not to snort. Almost everyone came because they want something.

I gulp and have to wonder if I’m any different. I’m here because I want something too.

“It’s no secret that being a mother is the most important role in my life.”

Fitz’s hand falls from my waist and he takes my hand, undoubtedly, I’m sure, to prevent me from raising it to coughbullshitinto my fist.

“And also the most challenging. From the moment she was born, Parker has kept me on my toes. As a newborn, she refused to be put down. As a toddler, she ran before she could even walk. And, as a teenager”—Mom pauses—“those with grown children, I’m sure you can relate.”

I want to crawl out of my skin. I want to ask which part they relate to. Was it the conditional love guaranteed only to the well-behaved daughter who never questioned anything? Was it the arranging of kidnapping to hide me away so I wouldn’t tarnish the Montgomery name while I was struggling?

“But what I saw in my daughter, what I often grew frustrated with, is what I realized the boy next door fell in love with at some point.”

There are soft sighs in the room.

“Walt and I were talking last night about how special a love like theirs truly is—lifelong friends who grew up together and now are growingtogether,creating something so special that makes our small family so proud and so complete. Because at the end of the day, on the good ones and the bad, that’s what life is about—family. Family is who you turn to, who you share life’s happiest and saddest moments with—and all the bumps in the middle along the way.”

What do you know about family?I want to scream. My mother wanted nothing to do with my lows. And my happiests? She only cared when they suited her, when they helped her, when they made her look good. There are only two people in my life who were there with me for both.

And only one of them is still around, still by my side while I continue to make things difficult like always. I tug on Fitz’s hand for his attention. Something sweet passes between us, like a shared beacon of truth in a dark sea of lies. But it’s fleeting. My gut twists when he immediately looks away.

I’m not able to give it too much thought because my mother’s voice quickly cuts in. “What I want to say to you, my dearest Parker and Fitz, is nothing is more important than family. Nothing will ever be more important to either of you than each other.” She sighs. “And, of course, my future grandchildren.”

As the audience laughs, Fitz pulls me against him. “That wasn’t bad.”

“No,” I say. “It wasn’t.”

But what it wasn’t,I remind myself, was the least bit true.

As excitedas Fitz was to travel on Air Force One, he’s been awfully quiet since he woke up this morning on the floor.

Our day started early—too early, considering I hardly managed to sleep, and judging from the shuffling coming from the ground, Fitz didn’t either. When I woke and came out of the shower, I half expected him to tell me he’d return to Boston. Instead, I found him making the bed and laying his clothes out before he scooted past me to shower with nothing more than a simplegood morning. But he didn’t make it into the bathroom before I watched his eyes peek at the secondary lock I placed on the door. Since then, he’s hardly said a word.

If we’re still selling the same story, we’re going about telling it a different way now.

“While I have the two of you here,” my mother says, approaching our seats, “I’ll no longer be able to attend a rally tomorrow Governor Stetson is holding. I’ll send the two of you on your own. We’ll prepare everything. Fitz, from what I understand, that should work with your schedule.”

It does work for Fitz’s schedule since he does have an open calendar for a few days before he leaves for camp. But it doesn’t work forourschedule. Tomorrow, we’re flying to Vegas with Josh, Lo, and a few other of his teammates and their significant others.

But I doubt something came up for my mother. She’s sending us to this event because it’s something not important enough for her to go, but she wants to show good faith.

“Since,” she continues, “it’s in Massachusetts, Fitz certainly would be very welcome.”

“He’s not a show monkey,” I snap. Fitz freezes in the lush, cream seat across from mine, but my mother’s face remains unbothered by my snark. “Where is it?”

Mom tucks a piece of perfectly blown out blonde hair behind her ear. “Out in the Berkshires. We’ll chopper you in and out from Boston.”

My mom just doesn’t want to trek to the boonies. “Where?”

“Brookdale.”

Hard fucking pass.

“We’re busy,” I tell her as Fitz narrows his eyes. He shouldn’t, because technically, you know, we are planning on getting married tomorrow night. But it’s clear he’s picked up on my tone. I go back to flipping through the magazine I’ve stuffed between my thigh and the armrest.

“Busy?” Mom asks. “Doing what, exactly?”

Fitz’s eyes call mine.

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