And only one of them is still around, still by my side while I continue to make things difficult like always. I tug on Fitz’s hand for his attention. Something sweet passes between us, like a shared beacon of truth in a dark sea of lies. But it’s fleeting. My gut twists when he immediately looks away.

I’m not able to give it too much thought because my mother’s voice quickly cuts in. “What I want to say to you, my dearest Parker and Fitz, is nothing is more important than family. Nothing will ever be more important to either of you than each other.” She sighs. “And, of course, my future grandchildren.”

As the audience laughs, Fitz pulls me against him. “That wasn’t bad.”

“No,” I say. “It wasn’t.”

But what it wasn’t, I remind myself, was the least bit true.

Chapter 25

As excited as Fitz was to travel on Air Force One, he’s been awfully quiet since he woke up this morning on the floor.

Our day started early—too early, considering I hardly managed to sleep, and judging from the shuffling coming from the ground, Fitz didn’t either. When I woke and came out of the shower, I half expected him to tell me he’d return to Boston. Instead, I found him making the bed and laying his clothes out before he scooted past me to shower with nothing more than a simple good morning. But he didn’t make it into the bathroom before I watched his eyes peek at the secondary lock I placed on the door. Since then, he’s hardly said a word.

If we’re still selling the same story, we’re going about telling it a different way now.

“While I have the two of you here,” my mother says, approaching our seats, “I’ll no longer be able to attend a rally tomorrow Governor Stetson is holding. I’ll send the two of you on your own. We’ll prepare everything. Fitz, from what I understand, that should work with your schedule.”

It does work for Fitz’s schedule since he does have an open calendar for a few days before he leaves for camp. But it doesn’t work for our schedule. Tomorrow, we’re flying to Vegas with Josh, Lo, and a few other of his teammates and their significant others.

But I doubt something came up for my mother. She’s sending us to this event because it’s something not important enough for her to go, but she wants to show good faith.

“Since,” she continues, “it’s in Massachusetts, Fitz certainly would be very welcome.”

“He’s not a show monkey,” I snap. Fitz freezes in the lush, cream seat across from mine, but my mother’s face remains unbothered by my snark. “Where is it?”