Page 142 of The Americana Playbook

Lo shrugs. “A little bit of both I guess.”

Pulling out the poster I have tucked under my arm, I hold it out, looking over at Lo. “Then let’s go stage a coup.”

This is actually the first time I’ve been to the Rebels training facility, which I only snuck into because Fitz keeps a pass in his car I still drive.

“It’s this way.” Lo waves at a security guard. “Hi, Frank! This is Parker, Fitz’s wife.”

I shuffle the sign awkwardly back under my arm and lift my hand to wave.

“We’re just going to catch them while they walk in. Hope that’s alright!”

The security guard nods curtly. “Go on in, ladies. Nice to meet you, Mrs. Fitzy.”

I snort out a laugh and whisper to Lo, “You know, when I used to break into places, I had to be a little more stealthy.”

“You?” Lo stops. “Break-in where?”

I eye the edges of the practice field we approach and smirk at her. “Football fields.”

Lo cackles. “Oh, you two used to make out under the bleachers during school, didn’t you?”

“I don’t kiss and tell,” I say both because we haven’t, and when we do, I’ll keep that between me and Fitz. “Where do I stand?”

Lo nudges me left. “Over there. They’ll go inside through that door.”

I move off the pavement path and onto the neatly cut grass with my poster board. Most of the players are down field, so I try to stay out of sight, just beside the facility entrance aptly labeled.

REBELS ONLY.

From here, I don’t hear much, just a whistle or two and a few choice, four-letter words streaming out of Coach Foller’s mouth. Lo’s taken up conversation with Frank at the gate, lifting her head toward me to make sure I’m still there, as if I have somewhere else to be. Even if I did, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.

“Psst.” Lo gives me a thumbs up. “They’re coming. Put it up.”

I step away from the building, closer to the grass and raise the sign as the Rebels in their white practice jerseys come into view. But my eyes find the one that stands out—the tall, dreamy quarterback in red. Myhusband.

There are a few bellows of laughter, some hoots and whistles. But there’s no sound coming from Fitz. And yet, the smile on his face says so, so much. He stops a few feet away from me, some of his guys giving him pats on his shoulders as they pass.

“Can I put this down?” I ask. “My arms are killing me.”

Fitz says nothing, and I think for a minute that this grand gesture of mine maybe gifted him embarrassment instead and he’s only smiling because he’s too sweet and kind-hearted to hurt my feelings. “Fitz?”

He shakes his head. “Sorry,” he says. “I was just making sure I remember this.”

I’ve barely lowered the sign before he’s charged at me, dropping his helmet at his feet and lifting me clear off the ground.

“I told you I’d never say no,” Fitz whispers, pressing his cheek to mine. He’s a sweaty mess and I’m sure I’ve got a piece of hay stuck in my hair, but I plant a kiss right on his mouth anyway. “Wait.” He pulls back. “What am I sayingyesto? Orwhere?”

We both lean down, looking at my sign long forgotten on the ground.

FITZY-

WILL YOU GO TO THE DANCE WITH ME?

I kiss him again. “How does high school sound?”

It’swhen I run upstairs for my socks I realize that between readjusting to the early season schedule and married life, I need to prioritize our living situation a bit. I’ve been sleeping downstairs with Parker, but apart from my toothbrush and deodorant, the rest of my shit is still upstairs.

I’m grabbing a pair from the dresser when the doorbell rings.

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