Now that Parker is between me and the cameras, I take her left hand, pulling it between us. My other arm wraps around her waist, and I dip down into her hair. “Put this on,” I hiss, passing her the ring.

The softest gasp escapes her mouth. “Fitz⁠—”

“You make sure when we’re married that Secret Service stays in its lane. I won’t have anyone telling me I can’t ever get close to my wife.” I pull back, taking a breath of the fresh scent of her hair with me. “Now smile and look like you love me, baby. America’s watching.”

* * *

I need you to keep your cool.

That’s what Parker says to me with her eyes. I’m sure she sees how hard I grip the arm of the chair in the Oval Office as I sit across from the people I once knew as my neighbors, who are now my future in-laws.

I look at Parker standing beside me, taking in her tight posture and rigidness and cock my tongue against my cheek.

These people are also my worst enemy.

“It would’ve been nice to have a heads up,” Candice says. She’s pushing a tight smile, but I know she’s anything but happy.

Unlatching my fingers that clutch the chair, I take Parker’s hand. I won’t lie, despite feeling so tense I wondered if I was seconds away from a stroke, seeing the ring on Parker’s finger has this calming effect on me, like a weighted, warm blanket.

“I’m not the kind of man who doesn’t ask for the love of my life’s father’s permission to marry her,” I say, looking at Walt. “But I’m sure you know Parker isn’t one to ask for permission.”

Candice folds her hands in her lap. “She’s always been strong willed.”

“And I love that about her.” I sweep my gaze back to Parker, watching her take a deep breath. “So much.”

“How did you manage to keep this a secret?”

Josh rips me away from a memory created only moments before, after Parker and I were herded to the Oval Office where we sealed our fate. I imagine in the fifteen minutes since we’ve joined the reception, they’ve already posted the photo.

Candice stands. “We’ll issue a congratulatory statement, but there are still things to talk about. Many things.”

My eyes flit up to Parker’s as man with a heavy camera walks through the door.

“A photo would be a nice touch,” Candice says. “One of you two, and one with the four of us. It’s a shame your mother isn’t here.”

I figure by the amount of vibrating happening in my pocket, my mom has gotten word about what’s going on.

“How about we take it in the Rose Garden?” Candice suggests to the photographer.