PARKER
A strategy retreat. That’s what they’re calling it.
Three words spoken in a tone so casual I almost believed it was going to involve whiteboards and brainstorming sessions and maybe some kind of team-building exercise involving ropes.
It does not. It involves a flight on a private jet, followed by piling into a rented SUV with three men who’ve each had their hands on me at some point in the last ten days, driving into the goddamn mountains to “get some perspective.”
The road winds through the forest like something out of a postcard. Tall pines, golden sunlight slipping between branches, a silence so thick it makes my city-dulled ears ring. I haven’t been away from Levi and Lyra for more than twenty-four hours since they were born. It’s a lot.
But here I am. Three days. No kids.
