Page 145 of The Americana Playbook

Parker stretches her arms up and tilts her head to me. “I’m tired anyway,” she says, smiling as one of her hand lands on my cheek and her ass presses harder against me. She opens her mouth, faking a yawn, but I close her mouth with my own.

And that’s how we dance for the next few minutes—all over and wrapped up in each other.

Until the music stops.

“Excuse me!”

I narrow my eyes at Parker before we both look toward the platform supporting the DJ booth, where Josh and Lo stand with a microphone. It takes a few booms of Josh’s loud voice to quiet everyone down before Lo speaks.

“I know this came together really quickly,” she says into the mic. “So first, thank you for coming and I really hope this was the perfect send off into this season’s full grind.”

Lo stops for applause.

“And,” Lo continues. “I’d like to especially thank all of you for keeping our little secret from your captain.”

I feel Parker’s eyes bore into mine before I look down at her. “Which captain?”

“Fitzy.”

My attention swings back to the small stage when Josh says my name.

“I got a lot of shit from the guys because they were pissed they weren’t invited to Vegas and missed me officiating your wedding.”

I break into laughter.

“But here’s the thing. I told them that was just the ceremony. Tonight is your reception.”

Now, it’s Parker’s smile I feel.

“And,” Josh carries on. “On brand with your relationship, we figured crowning you and your bride at this dance would be appropriate.”

Parker leans into me, pressing a hand to my chest.

Josh looks around for a minute and lowers the mic, whispering at Lo before raising it again. “Which one of you jackasses was supposed to bring out the crowns?”

Crowns?

Around us, the crowd thins, but Micah breaks through. In his hands? Hats that match the ones our mascot wears, replicas of the ones the rebels wore in the American Revolution.

I don’t even have a chance to respond because I’ve got a few inches on Micah and I have to dip so he can put the hat on my head.

When it’s on, I turn to Parker. She lifts a hand, trying to straighten hers and when she drops it, we hold each other’s stare, bursting into hysterics.

“Now,” Josh speaks again. “Fitz and Parker—Captain and Mrs. America—and tonight, king and queen of the Rebels, your first dance.”

A slow, jazzy song begins to flow through the speakers, and I turn to Parker, holding out a hand. “May I?”

“Always.”

Tugging her to me makes her hat tilt to the side, so I quickly adjust it before settling her against me.

“If you asked me to dance in high school, I would’ve said yes,” she says.

“You know, something tells me second chances can be even better than the first time.” I would’ve loved to dance with Parker back at Thacher’s gym. “But there’s no way it would’ve been like this. You wouldn’t have been caught dead in this hat. And it’s different now.”

Parker gently shakes her head. “How so?”

“Our story,” I say. “It’s bigger now.”

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