My phone goes off again, I press down on the side button to stop the vibration. I won’t let her ruin this moment.

When I feel…happy.

I know she’s in a tizzy for many reasons. One being that we threw her off schedule, and the other being that, for just a few minutes, we stole the spotlight. Or at least, Fitz did. Clearly, the only person students cared about visiting their school today was him.

“She’s fuming.”

Fitz shakes his head. “Isn’t this the kind of stuff she wants?”

“If she were smarter,” I begin, “she would’ve kicked off her heels and gone long to catch a pass. People loved to see Obama playing basketball. That would’ve helped separate the human from the politician a bit more.”

After all, how could you not stop and smile over an adult taking time out of their day to mess around with kids? Up until now, I’ve seen the glitz of Fitz’s reputation at the gala, and a sliver of the gritty side of his career when he comes home from a tough workout. But now—after watching those kids look at him with nothing but wonder in their eyes—I’ve seen the heart of it too.

“But no,” I continue. “If I were doing this the way they wanted me to, I’d be following Congressman Cam around. Somehow, I doubt he’d get down and dirty with a bunch of kids.”

“Definitely not. I mean, the guy rowed.” Fitz scoffs. “Total pansy.”

I’m tossed back to high school, where I have images of Cam and his crew friends walking around in their unitards before heading down to the boathouse that flanks the river after classes ended. I shake the vision from my mind, but that becomes more difficult when I catch sight of the sign for where Fitz is heading.

Manhasset.

Immediately, I straighten in my seat. “Where are we⁠—”

“Chowder sounds about right. And a few dozen oysters.”

Clam chowder sounds good, sure. But what it doesn’t sound is louder than my heartbeat now thumping in my ears.

I wish I could banish Manhasset’s tranquil scenery from my mind—along with the final memories of my hometown—but that would be impossible. Some things are too beautiful to forget, no matter how haunting they might be.

“How mad would your mom be if we had a beer when it’s not even two in the afternoon?”

Turning away from the window, I find Fitz staring at the rearview mirror and peek over my shoulder, finding the black SUV. Of course our babysitters are in tow. But I don’t have space in my head to give them. All my thoughts are focused on what’s ahead of us, which I’ve kept behind me for so, so long.

I return my gaze to the front of the car.

“Let’s find out.”

* * *