“For fuck’s sake, Fitz. For you, this is personal. For her, it’s business! What are you thinking?”

My hands fall to my hips. “I’m thinking this is my shot with Parker, and I can’t have you screw it up for me. So you’re going to pretend like all you know is what she and I tell you. and that’s it.”

He sighs. “You went from one controversial partner to another.”

“How is Parker controversial? You know nothing about her.”

Nick raises his face toward the ceiling. “Because her father is. He might be one of the most disliked people in the country at the moment! You don’t find that an issue? I’m trying to get you away from these kind of guys. Not marry them!”

“Fuck Walter,” I say, meaning it.

Nick hangs his head before he pulls out his phone.

“What are you doing?”

“You rolled it out big, Fitz.” He furiously swipes at the screen and hands it to me. “There’s no going back now.”

I don’t know what social media app I’m even looking at. I guess it doesn’t matter. As I scroll through, there are posts sharing the photo of Parker and me walking across the stage at the White House. Nearly all of them have hundreds of comments. I tap on a photo and scroll down.

I heard they were prom king and queen.

Wait, this is the fairy tale we all need.

I smirk and think to myself, Here’s hoping.

They literally are Captain and Mrs. America.

Do you see how he LOOKS at her?

I hand him back the phone.

“If you’re going through with this, which you have to at this point, you sure as hell better make sure people care more that she’s going to be your wife instead of caring more that she’s the president’s daughter. You better be ready to sell that story.”

I don’t think it’s a good time to mention Parker will be participating in her dad’s campaign. I’m not sure how much albuterol is left in that inhaler.

Nick continues, “Starting Saturday.”

“What’s Saturday?”

“The Rebels Foundation Gala.”

“It’s not too soon for all that?” I ask. “I mean, that’s a huge event in Boston. There’s press. A red carpet. Maybe we should⁠—”

Nick roars with laughter, cutting me off.

I wonder for a moment what story we’re talking about exactly—the fictional one or the one based on reality. But the next thing Nick says reminds me it’s a little bit of both.

“It’s not too soon, Fitzy. It’s almost too damn late.”

Chapter 10

Not everyone can be perfect. It turns out Fitz uses a two-in-one shampoo.

I overlook this one fault, though, because the scent of it—the scent of him on my skin—is comforting, even if it leaves my long hair tangled.