Page 37 of The Americana Playbook

I add a dramatic sigh for good measure, but the truth is inside, I’m pumping my fist. Let her boss me around and nag me until I have a headache. I fuckingloveit.

Leaning against the doorframe, I watch her step into my bedroom. And like the night at the club, I’m teetering between our now and then.

Then, as a teenager, I had to force away any and all fantasies I had about Parker being in my bedroom, which she almost always entered late at night and through the window. Honey never cared, or she at least trusted Parker enough, but my mom certainly did. I remember three separate times when she knocked and Parker had to scramble beneath the bed, hiding as if we’d been doing something illicit when we were either pretending to do homework or playing Uno.

But no matter what we were doing, I always had to make it not too obvious when I scooted closer to her on the bed. The warmth radiating off Parker, the way she smelled… Those things combined were lethal to my teenage hormones.

And now, I’m standing here watching her at the foot of my bed, fantasizing about how Parker would lookinit… naked, with the sheet up to her waist. Or better yet, with the blankets tangled at her feet and the thing covering the rest of her body? Me.

“This will do.”

“Oh.” I shake off the thoughts. “Does it, princess?”

“Stop.” She scoffs. I watch her take a deep breath, her shoulders relaxing. “It’s veryyouin here. I mean in a good way. Clean. Warm. A little preppy.” She pauses, pointing to the black-and-white photo on the wall of Manhasset’s harbor that was our shared childhood backyard. “Just very you. Kind of feels like home. It feels good.”

I furrow my brow. “You sound surprised. Shouldn’t home always feel good?”

“I guess.”

“Since you’re taking it, you can help me pack up,” I tell her.

Parker moves and opens the door of the walk-in closet. “You really don’t seem all that upset about it. Besides, there isn’t much in here anyway.”

“I’m a simple guy. You won’t find me wearing a sparkly pink cowboy hat to the stadium before a game.”

Parker shuts the closet door. “Pity. You’d look cute in pink. You still don’t seem so upset though.”

“Maybe I’m just happier you’re here than I am annoyed I need to move my shit.”

The cutest, nervous laugh sneaks from Parker’s mouth. I’m about to try and pull out another when a voice booms.

“You clearly don’t know who I am!”

I rush from the bedroom.

“Sir, you can’t just go in.”

“Let him in,” I say, swinging the door open. Nick is red faced and huffing. I hope he has his inhaler.

“See?” he asks. “I told you. I have akey, Agent Asshole.”

I grab Nick by his arm and slam the door behind him. “I don’t need you to cause a scene. I have neighbors.”

“You have guard dogs too! Who the hell are those—” Nick pauses, looking over my shoulder. “Well, you two move rather quickly.”

I hold an arm up. “Parker, meet my manager, Nick Gold. Nick, Parker Montgomery… my fiancée.” I won’t lie. The way that word tastes on the tip of my tongue makes me kind of giddy.

Moving to her side, I drape an arm across her shoulders. She stiffens slightly before holding her hand out. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Nick’s eyes bounce between Parker and me before he hesitantly shakes her hand.

What’s wrong with you?I mouth to him, wondering if there’s ano entrylist I can add him to.

Parker tilts her face to me, unsure about the situation, as Nick glares at us.

“Maybe you and I should?—”

“Talk?” Nick laughs. “Nowyou want to talk, Fitzy?”

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