My phone buzzes from inside my purse, and I push the cash aside, taking it out.

Fitzy

FYI, since we’re about to be married, you might consider checking in with your future husband. Tell me you’re done and back at the hotel already.

I’m waiting to see her royal highness. Don’t worry.

Fitzy

Don’t tell me not to worry when you’re in the one place I can’t get to you.

I told you I didn’t like this plan. You could’ve just showed up with me when I go.

It’s been weeks of back and forth figuring out how we get the ball in motion. If Fitz had it his way, I wouldn’t have gone anywhere near the White House without him and would’ve shown up days from now when The New England Rebels pay their post-Super Bowl win visit.

If I don’t respond in an hour, go to the staff gate and tell the security guard you’re Walter’s son-in-law. By the time he grabs your elbow, you’ll have a Secret Service escort inside. Trust me, this works.

Fitzy

Did someone touch you?

I’m in the middle of responding when I feel eyes on me. I look up, and the secretary smiles.

“I’m sorry,” she tells me, speaking with a heavy Boston accent. “I can’t believe how grown up you are. I still think of that little girl in the ad when your father ran for senate. I worked on that campaign.”

“And now you’re here working for my mother.”

“It’s a pleasure to serve the First Lady.”

I try to keep the laughter to myself. If you say so.

The phone on her desk shrills, and she answers it. “You can go in.”

Standing, I look around, wondering where I’m supposed to go when part of the wall opens. The outline of the door is so thin I didn’t even notice it before.

An agent nods at me. “This way, ma’am.”

Before I follow the agent, I turn on my heel, facing my mother’s secretary again and thank her. I want to leave a trail—not just of me, but of what I’m going to do before I do it. “Thank you,” I tell her. “I’m looking forward to seeing you more as I help my father campaign.”

Timidly, the older woman reaches out, shaking my hand before I back away and follow the agent through the opening in the wall.

“Parker.”

I expected to see my mom, and I guess, considering Madeline orchestrated the initial meeting, it’s not odd she’s there. But my father, sitting in a chair across from my mother’s desk, is a surprise.