“When should we tell them?” Kimba asks, pressing our hands to her flat stomach.

“I’d like to wait as long as we can.”

“Why?” She tilts her head, catching my gaze over her shoulder. Her dark eyes, fringed with a thick veil of lashes, make me lose my train of thought. Make me lose my mind. They always have.

“Why do you want to wait?” she asks again, nudging her elbow into my ribs.

“It’s our secret. I want to keep it just ours as long as we can. It’s been a lot of work and some disappointment. I just want to savor it for a bit.”

She swallows hard, disrupting the smooth line of her throat, and tears swim in her eyes. This isn’t our first pregnancy. We lost one, so early we barely had time to celebrate, but it still hurt. Trying to have a baby when your body is hormonally resisting it in every way is difficult. Kimba manages the hot flashes and other symptoms of perimenopause with homeopathic remedies and yoga as much as she can, but there’s no denying her body is marching in that direction. And we’re fighting to get our babies before it’s too late. We wanted to try naturally first, even though we have eggs frozen and waiting. The doctor was surprised that, considering the perimenopause, we were able to conceive not once, but twice.

“Let’s tell our family in a few weeks,” I propose. “And after the first trimester for everyone else.”

She clears her throat, blinks to clear her eyes of lingering tears. “That sounds good. I’ll tell Lennix and President Cade, of course.”

I frown. Kimba is a political superstar. Race after race, she proves that, and the phones at Allen & Associates never stop ringing. I don’t interfere, but I’ll protect her from the candidates who would put their interests above hers, their campaigns over her health.

I’ll protect her from herself.

“We need very clear instructions from the doctor, Tru,” I say, tucking a curl behind her ear, kissing the curve of her neck. “I know you want to re-elect the president—”

“There is nothing I want more than this baby, Ez.” She looks up at me, her eyes sober and settled. “Nothing. If I need to curtail my involvement in the campaign, I will. I promise I’ll do everything the doctor tells me to.”

I cup her breast, even fuller now that she’s pregnant, brush my thumb over her nipple, and wait for the inevitable catch of her breath. “And what about what I tell you to do?”

She turns so her knees rest on either side of my legs, so she’s straddling me. “Are you really trying to fuck your wife out in the open on this roof?”