Page 36

“How’s that for a marriage announcement?” Parker tosses a newspaper down on the bed the moment I step out of the bathroom in a towel, and I pick up a copy of The Boston Journal.

REBELS STARTING CENTER REPLACES ELVIS IN PRESIDENTIAL VEGAS WEDDING.

Here I was thinking no news is good news. When I woke up this morning and found that, while there were congratulatory—and what the fuck —messages from a few friends, there were none from Nick or Coach. I even went so far as to check my email, but apart from a few Amazon notifications and a reminder about the Thacher School Alumni barbecue in a few weeks, there was nothing from my crew.

“They buried the lede, but I guess every good lineman deserves his moment,” I snicker, securing the towel around my waist. “Josh will get a kick out of this.”

Her shoulders rise and fall beneath the plush white robe she wears. “We did it. We really did it.”

I tug her closer, pulling her back on the bed with me. Parker slides up, snuggling into my side as I read.

“It was just days ago that the White House graced the country with a photo of what looked like the All-American couple. With the luscious flowers of the Rose Garden as a backdrop, it was hard to hate Parker Montgomery and Fitzgerald Rhodes even just on the surface, let alone after you learn their backstory. But now the photos tell a different story. Now? After she walked down the aisle of Las Vegas’ infamous Little White Chapel in a football jersey on the arm of her soon-to-be-husband’s teammate, it’s impossible not to love them.”

I turn to Parker. “I know who hates us . The White House.”

She smirks, rubbing circles on my chest. “I’m sure they’ll hate all of it.”

And somehow, knowing that makes this so much sweeter. I secretly hope what makes Candice and Walter grimace is the thing that might’ve been the greatest part of the night for me—Parker’s dress.

Pressing her hand against me, Parker brings her lips to mine for a soft kiss.

It just keeps getting sweeter , I think to myself before the thought is interrupted by Parker’s phone ringing from the other room. She sighs against my mouth and slides off the bed, scrambling into the living room of the suite and returning, opening the call.

“Hi, Mom.”

There’s a long moment of silence, but Parker smiles through every beat of it.

“Was this your plan all along?” Candice’s annoyed tone is loud and clear over speaker. “To make a mockery out of yourself? You could’ve saved me the trouble and money of the engagement party and planning?—”

Parker cuts in, “Don’t act like a wedding was for us. I told you in the beginning. My relationship is separate from all of this. It isn’t fodder to make you look like a better person than the one we both know you really are.”

My eyes widen.

“Well, being the person I am, I’m calling to tell you both to enjoy your honeymoon,” Candice says curtly.

Parker locks eyes on mine. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means, Parker, this will be buried in eight news cycles, just in time for the convention. You will resume your campaign duties then. We won’t give this any attention, and the only comment we will make is that we express our well wishes to the happy, beautiful couple and that we want for you everything we’ve had over the last forty years.”

Parker opens her mouth and sticks her middle finger toward her throat.

“But remember,” Candice continues, “you might be on leave from the campaign, but it’s not over. Not for us or for you.”

“What about Captain’s Cottage?” Parker asks.

“We agreed that would be contingent on your speech at the convention, didn’t we?”

“Yes,” Parker says. “We did.”

Candice clears her throat. “Then if you behave yourself and follow through, it’s yours. I expect you to lay low.”

Parker stands between my knees. “How I’m laying depends on my husband’s mood.”

Candice scoffs as she hangs up.

“She’s awful, but you’re bad .” I’m teasing, keeping the moment light. Inside, I’m flooded with relief that I won’t have to worry as much about Parker while I’m away at camp.

Parker tosses the phone to the bed and places one hand on each side of me, leaning over. “I never claimed to be a good girl, Fitz,” she says. “I hope you’re not disappointed.”

“Never.” I tug her by the tie of the robe. “Come here.”

Parker straddles my waist, pressing her forehead to mine. “Can you believe we’re married?”

Can I believe I married the girl next door, the president’s daughter, the woman I’ve been in love with probably since before I even knew what love really was? I honestly can’t. But when Parker adjusts herself, I know that in seconds, my cock certainly will.

“No,” I tell her. “Kind of feels like a dream. Maybe you should pinch me.”

The smile she carries morphs into puckered lips before she kisses me.

“How’s that?” Her mouth still floats close.

“Still feels kind of dreamy,” I hum. “Give it another go.”

Parker laughs and kisses me again, and my hands find her waist, holding her where she is as I linger before deepening the kiss, which is a total mistake because beneath the towel, my cock rises, eager to pledge it’s allegiance to my wife .

My wife, who still doesn’t know how I feel about her.

“Wait a second.”

She lifts her mouth from mine. “Fitz. We’re married.”

I contemplate asking her to say it again because I’ll never tire of hearing it.

“That was the plan.”

Parker smooths some of my wet hair back from my forehead “You have a crush on me.”

“Don’t think you get to use my words against me.”

She sits up entirely now, though thankfully, avoiding the red zone. “What are we doing, Fitz?”

Parker’s eyes fall to the ring on her finger, sparking an idea. I tap her thigh over the robe and lift her off me so I can stand and face the bed. Her face wrinkles in confusion.

I drop to one knee.

“What are you doing?” Parker bursts into laughter, sitting on her knees.

Since her left hand is already occupied, I take her right. “Will you be my girlfriend?”

“I’m your wife .” Parker is quick to remind me.

“You woke up yesterday my fiancée, went to sleep my wife, so do me a favor and give me the first step in that cycle, would you?” I cradle her face. “I want to start at the beginning. I don’t want to miss out on anything with you.”

Isn’t that what they say? Life is about the journey, not the destination. And I want all of it with her. From start to finish. I want everything I never had because I was too god damn afraid to say anything. Because if I had then , maybe things would’ve been so different.

The feel of Parker’s smile in both my hands is a pretty genuine thing. “Okay,” she breathes out. “From the beginning. Even though I let you slide into third base.”

With my thumb, I free her lip she’s sucked between her teeth. “Quit biting that lip, or you’ll find me at the plate again.”

Parker very dramatically bites her lip.

“Was that something you enjoyed?” I ask, tugging it free once more.

“Did you enjoy it?” she retorts.

“You must be kidding. You touched me for all of eight seconds, and I came in my underwear .” I shut my eyes at the memory. “You don’t know the kind of restraint I had to muster up. But I wanted it to be about you . Not what you could give to me.”

Parker reaches out with her free hand, cupping my cheek. Her face softens, and something in the air shifts between us. It goes from sexy and flirty to emotional and intimate.

It’s a really good fucking moment. It happens to be the kind of moment I want to have when I slide into her for the first time.

But not yet.

“Okay,” she says. “I guess it’s time I date my husband.”

I take back everything. Nothing beats this moment. Except kissing her after it.

Parker laughs against my mouth. “I kind of feel all…giddy.”

I’m relieved I don’t have to shoulder the burden of silently carrying the giddiness around alone. “I know. I feel like I’m seventeen, if I’m being honest.”

As soon as the words leave my mouth, I away and reach for my phone, opening my email.

“What’s this?” Parker asks as I pass the device to her. “I’m not an alum ,” she reminds me.

“I am. Come with me.”

“Are you asking me on a date to a high school reunion?”

Tossing my phone to the bed, I pull her off it, wrapping my arms around her waist. “I told you, if there wasn’t anything fake about this, our first date would’ve been somewhere meaningful.”

The night of the bleachers now holds a different memory for me, one I wasn’t a part of, but maybe one I’ll be haunted by. But while that might’ve been the last time Parker visited the spot, it wasn’t mine.

And that visit, she’ll see, was meaningful.

For a moment, Parker says nothing. It might be meaningful in theory, but maybe I’ve crossed a line.

“We don’t have to?—"

“No.” Parker nods. “Let’s go.”

Our hold on each other is broken only by the sound of the buzzer outside our suite.

Parker twists out of my hold. “I ordered breakfast.”

I continue to grin like an idiot as she steps out of the bedroom and I move to get dressed. My phone rings from its spot on the mound of twisted sheets. I squeeze my eyes shut when I see Nick’s name on the screen before answering.

“Did you just leave a fancy engagement party at the White House and fly to Vegas for a White Chapel wedding where she walked down the aisle wearing your jersey ?”

I shift my jaw from side to side. “Yes.”

“Did you want?—”

I hold up my hand and mouth Nick to Parker, who appears at the door. She nods and shuts it, but for good measure, I go into the bathroom.

“I see,” Nick says. “You know, Fitz, I’ve had this whole thing in my head—a White House wedding. You two kissing with the American flag blowing somewhere off in the background. The whole shebang. But in my wildest dreams, I couldn’t top this one.”

“So, you’re not upset.”

“Upset?” Nick asks. “No. Not at all. If anything, this takes the attention off you and Foller sooner. Fitz, you just became the son-in-law of the President of the United States after eloping in Vegas.” He gasps loudly. “God, people are going to love this.”

I blow out a deep breath. “Well, something tells me, as of this morning, I’m probably his least favorite person, son-in-law or not.”

“Yeah, but he can’t hate you publicly,” Nick reminds me. “That’s all we care about.”

It only matters how it looks .

Nick continues, “Well, that and making Heath and company happy. And trust me, I haven’t talked to anyone from the office yet, but I’m telling you now—this stunt? It’s going to make them really fucking happy. The camera catching her smiling in the suites at every game? Ratings will fly through the roof.”

I grip the edge of the sink, trying to steady myself against the wave of nausea brewing in my gut. Guilt. I can taste it. I’m guilty. Because aren’t I about to do the same exact thing to Parker that her family is trying to do? The context might be different, but that’s it. I’m using her to put on a show—for my team, for the League, for all of football. And even though that’s what we agreed to, I suddenly feel so overwhelmingly aware of it, and I don’t want it anymore.

“She isn’t my wife to make other people happy.”

“Um, you should’ve thought about that before. If you had, I would’ve just set you up with someone who already loves being in front of the camera. You could’ve fake dated anyone.” Nick reminds me. “It didn’t have to be her.”

“You’re right. I could’ve dated anyone. But I chose to marry Parker. And we do what she’s comfortable with, not what everyone wants.”

He continues, “If you’re… God, I knew it. I knew this would happen.”

“You knew what would happen?” I ask.

Nick groans. “This isn’t going to end well, Fitz. I knew it.”

“It won’t end because it’s real, Nick. All of it. The marriage”—I correct myself—“the relationship… nothing fake about it. You need to respect that. I won’t have her do anything she’s not comfortable with.”

I have no idea what will happen after the convention, but no matter what does, I’m going to protect Parker, her privacy, and her needs. And I’m going to start laying the foundation for that now even if that means fibbing to Nick.

“So you told her?” Nick asks. “You told her everything?”

“Everything.”

“What did she think about the tattoo?”

My eyes drift down my body, where I barely make out the tip of the ink peeking over the edge of the towel. “It’s not really your business,” I say. “It’s not really anyone’s.”

“Fitz.” Nick sighs. “You’re America’s husband now. Like it or not, it’s everyone’s business.”