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.