Page 113 of The Americana Playbook

“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’rebad.” 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.

Parker tosses the phone to the bed and places one hand on each side of me, leaning over. “I never claimed to be a good girl, Fitz,” she says. “I hope you’re not disappointed.”

“Never.” I tug her by the tie of the robe. “Come here.”

Parker straddles my waist, pressing her forehead to mine. “Can you believe we’re married?”

Can I believe I married the girl next door, the president’s daughter, the woman I’ve been in love with probably since before I even knew what love really was? I honestly can’t. But when Parker adjusts herself, I know that in seconds, my cock certainly will.

“No,” I tell her. “Kind of feels like a dream. Maybe you should pinch me.”

The smile she carries morphs into puckered lips before she kisses me.

“How’s that?” Her mouth still floats close.

“Still feels kind of dreamy,” I hum. “Give it another go.”

Parker laughs and kisses me again, and my hands find her waist, holding her where she is as I linger before deepening the kiss, which is a total mistake because beneath the towel, my cock rises, eager to pledge it’s allegiance tomy wife.

My wife, who still doesn’t know how I feel about her.

“Wait a second.”

She lifts her mouth from mine. “Fitz. We’re married.”

I contemplate asking her to say it again because I’ll never tire of hearing it.

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