But there’s no way in hell she’s more frustrated with me than I am with her at the moment. I’m actually past the point of frustration. I’ve had enough of the lies, the secrets, the stonewalling.

“What do you mean now I’m concerned with how things look,” she repeats, her eyes flicking around the classroom.

“You are.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” I begin, “you’re only worried now because of what people might think about me dragging you down the hallway.”

Parker snorts. “Well, yeah. It doesn’t exactly do much for your Mr. Nice Guy image, that’s for sure. Or us,” she adds on. “We’re newlyweds.”

“You’re right,” I snap. “Act like one.”

“What’s your problem?”

I rip the name tag from her dress. Her hand immediately flies to the spot.

“Can you read?” I hold up the tag for her. “In case you forgot how to, let me sound it out for you. This”—I point—“says Rhodes. You shouldn’t even need it. You walked in that room holding my hand. You’re wearing my ring. Are those goddamn diamonds not big enough for you? Because if they’re too small to remind you you’re married, that’s an easy solution. I’ll make a call and find a jeweler open right now and put a bigger rock on your finger so I’m impossible to forget.”

“You?” she asks. “Or the marriage.”

“What?”

“You said so I’m impossible to forget, Fitz.”

“It’s,” I say. “I meant it’s.”

It’s me. I’m the fucking it.

I point at her name tag. “It says⁠—"

“I know what it says, Fitz. Why don’t you let me take a stab at your tattoo and see if I can read that too?”

I take a step back, having to lean against the table.

Parker places her purse and my jacket on a metal stool. “Yes,” she says. “I know about the tattoo. So that means I know you’ve been lying to me this entire time.”

I run my tongue along the inside of my bottom lip to buy a second. “I told you⁠—”

“I’d be really concerned if you went around tattoo-ing secrets you share with all your crushes if I were you.”

“Don’t change the subject, Parker,” I snap defensively. “You were being inappropriate and immature.”

“This means a lot coming from someone who can’t even address how he feels about me. Stop pretending like this is about Camden, Fitz.”

I straighten, pushing off the table. “Yes, it’s about you talking with Camden,” I say mockingly, wiggling my fingers. “Have you forgotten that’s the guy your parents wanted to set you up with?”