My smile fades a little when he looks at me. He gives me a smile.
And he pulls his glasses to the bridge of his nose and eyes me across the room. “Don’t try to sweet-talk your way into working yourself to the bone. That won’t work with me.”
“I didn’t think it would,” I lie, taking myself to the door. “I know what works.” I mouth, Oral.
And I see the most adorable smile touch his lips before he leans back in his chair, looks at me soberly, and purrs, teasing me, “That’s right.”
I laugh as I leave, heading straight to Clarissa.
“Did you give the president a piece of your mind?” Clarissa asks with a twinkle in her eye.
“Oh, definitely.” More like a little piece of pregnant mama booty. I head to my desk and look over the schedule. “Do you agree with him that this is a hectic schedule?”
“I told you from the moment we drafted it that we couldn’t reasonably cover all these schools in such a short amount of time.”
“Why didn’t you insist?” I groan. “We need to redo it.”
“Because I knew he’d set his foot down,” she admits, still seemingly amused.
I sigh and look over everything, exhausted just thinking about moving all the visits around.
“What if I recruited a group of passionate women to help me cover all these areas—spread our Kids for the Future message?” I ask.
Clarissa loves the idea so much that by that evening, we’ve got a new plan hashed out, and meetings set up with women like me who want the kids to have the best opportunities, the best futures, the best self-esteem, and the best chances at achieving their dreams one day.
I’m beat that night when I feel the mattress of his bed shift, and his body spoon me from behind. I sigh contentedly as he buries his nose in my neck, planting a kiss there.
“Guess what? I won’t bribe you with oral after all,” I breathe sleepily.
“You may most definitely try.” His chuckle is warm as he nuzzles my throat.
I smile. “I had a great idea today and found a way to have it all without . . . what did you say? ‘Working myself to the bone’?” I frown and flip around, shooting him a black stare as he props himself on his elbows above me.
Even in the shadows, I can make out the amusement on his face, his chest bare, gloriously bare and muscular as he leans above me. “That’s right,” he says.
His eyes. I swear they’re like the best coffee you will ever have.
“I appreciate you taking my concerns seriously,” he says as he brushes back a strand of hair behind my forehead. “What’s mine is mine. And I want my girl to be safe, always.” He eases down my body, his eyes on mine looking wolfish and proprietary as he places a kiss on my belly. “And our little one, too.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, his tender kiss spreading warmth all over my body.
“Are you ready to find out the sex on Friday?” I reach out to stroke my fingers through his thick sable hair, then against the stubble on his jaw, feeling it rasp over my skin.
“I’m ready for it to be born already.” He grins against me.
I run my fingers over his scalp as he nuzzles my pregnant belly. “I can’t decide what I think it is,” I say thoughtfully.
“It doesn’t matter what you think, it is what it is,” he says, quite practically, as he comes back up, propping himself on a pillow and drawing me to his side.
I laugh. “True.”
“I’ve moved things around so I can be there with you to receive the news,” he says, his voice husky now as he pulls my chin up and kisses me.
“Thank you.”
“I wouldn’t miss it. Not if I can help it.”
Friday, we’re stepping out of the car after my checkup with the gynecologist. Matt is fixing his tie after the full-blown kiss I gave him in the car on our way here. I’m just so happy. Blown away. The baby looks well. I have a picture in my clutch purse—several pictures, in fact—and we could see its perfect body, its eyes, and its face. And its sex.
When the doctor confirmed what it was, he told us with a grin, and Matt and I just looked at each other—all of it so real, now that we can give the baby a name.
The reporters at the White House are restless, having heard of my appointment and been given permission to wait for our return on the steps.
“President Hamilton, do you know what you’re having?”
He draws me to his chest as we both face the reporters, and they all calm down. He says just three words.
“It’s a boy.”
“It’s a boy!” they return happily.
“Quick picture, Mr. President!”
I hear the echoes of other reporters who second the thought.