Page 73 of The Americana Playbook

Parker’s attention snaps back to me, her face hardened, stoic.

“I believed you when you told me lightening came from a big camera in the sky.” I watch the softening of her face fight through the tough front she’s forcing.

“I wanted to keep playing hide and seek. I lied so you wouldn’t be scared of the storm. We were kids then,” she reminds me.

I shrug. “Maybe I grew up, just not out of the part where I always believe you.”

Parker hangs her head. But all I get is a bitter taste of her silence and secrets.

“Fine. I’ll be going with you to the campaign events from now on. I refuse to have any more frantic calls from my wife when she feels unsafe in a place I’m not.”

Parker flings her face up. “We’re not married yet,” she reminds me.

“Wewillbe. And I’ll be at your side for every event leading up until I leave for camp in July. After that, we’ll figure something else out. Don’t even try to argue.” I glance at the front door. “Now be honest with me. Is there somewhere else you’d feel safer living?”

Parker snorts. “If I say yes, are you going to move?”

“Yes.”

A soft wave of surprise rolls across her face, like it’s the first time Parker has ever heard anyone make her—and her well-being—a priority.

“I wouldn’t think twice,” I add. “If you told me you didn’t feel safe, I’d take you anywhere you felt peace.”

After a solid thirty seconds, of silence, I begin to wonder I wonder if she’s figured out I’m talking about more than just changing our living situation to something she’s more comfortable in.

“You already gave me peace, Fitz.”

“I did?”

“Yes. It’s at the barn, where I’m heading now.”

* * *

Something hits me in the face, and I jump.

“Sorry.” I reach for my third coffee of the day. “Didn’t sleep well.”

“When I said I wanted topickyour mind, that meant I needed itpresent, Fitzy.”

Putting down my cup, I straighten, rising to attention.

“Trouble in paradise with your lady already?”

“Parker isn’t a problem.”

“Good.” Coach snorts. “Because I might’ve been a counselor once in my life, but not a marriage counselor.”

Drumming my fingers against the table, I gnaw on the inside of my cheek for a second. Maybe I can get some advice without dragging Parker into it.

“Actually, you got a second to put on that counseling hat?”

“I just told you?—”

“It’s not about me and Parker. No it’s…” I scratch the back of my head. “You know, we have all these babysitters. Secret Service. It’s annoying as hell. They’re at my door all the time, if we’re on the go together, they’re on our tail.”

Coach sits on his desk, folding his arms. “Sounds like this is an issue for the White House, not me.”

“No, I know they’re doing their job and all, I get it. And they’re notbadguys. But one of them”—I pause, trying to think on my feet—“you know, one of these retired Marine types, when it’s his shift, he constantly checks in.”

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