Page 49 of The Americana Playbook

It’s the rough patch of poorly healed flesh that makes the world stop.

You’d think this was the first time I’ve seen it. The scar is nearly as large as my hand, a slanted rectangle a few inches under Parker’s left shoulder blade.

I’ve never wanted to go to war with a memory that wasn’t mine. I know if it was possible, I’d do it for Parker.

“Should we move closer to the window so you can see it better?”

Are you kidding?I want to scream.I’ll never get it out of my head.

“Almost got it.” I grab the zipper a little firmer and tug, doing everything I can to focus on the metal teeth in front of me while the ones in my mouth grind together so forcefully they threaten to pulverize the enamel into dust. I’m still gritting them together even when the zipper is free.

“You got it?”

I nod but don’t say anything as Parker adjusts the fabric and then waits for me to zip it correctly. I don’t know if I can even speak. I don’t even know if I want to. Not until she turns around. And suddenly, I want to tell her so many things.

Stay away from them.Let me protect you.

But none of those words come.

Facing me, Parker drops her gaze down at the dress. “It’s too much, isn’t it?”

The hesitation and doubt lacing her voice snap me out of my head. “You could never be too much.”

She softly narrows her eyes. “Then why are you looking at me like that?”

Because I’m just so fucking sorry I abandoned you.

I shake my head and turn away from my thoughts and only let myself see the Parker in front of me—beautiful, daring, and dangerous to my senses in red.

“Us being married might be easier than I thought. You in that dress, standing there like that, not even trying.” I rub my chin. “You’re stealing my breath in the way only a wife can.”

* * *

Even with the heavily tinted windows of the SUV, I make out the flash of cameras from the hotel entrance that’s at least three blocks away.

“Standstill traffic for afootballthing?”

I feign hurt and rub my chest. “Ouch.”

Parker slaps my knee playfully. “You know what I mean.”

“Football means a lot to a lot of people around here.”

I’m not sure if Parker notices, but during the ride to the gala, I sit closer by spreading my legs a little wider than normal. Secret Service might be here to protect her, but being driven by them has me all sorts of uneasy.

“I only care that it means a lot to you,” Parker says. “I guessyoumean a lot to a lot of people.”

“We’ll turn at the next intersection and use the back entrance. That’s protocol for a large event,” the agent driving informs us.

Parker reaches forward and I jump when she pushes a button at the bottom of the front console that brings up a partition.

I feel like I can breathe. “Did you know that was there this entire time?”

Parker keeps her eye on the door beside me. Her eyes flicker and narrow with determination. “We’ll miss the red carpet if we go in the back. We should take advantage of it, don’t you think?”

At the end of it all, showing off this relationship is the furthest thing from my mind. So far, I have to remind myself that Parker thinks the publicity is important to me. “Definitely,” I say.

“Do you think they put the child locks on?”

---