Chapter 42

Beatrice

He does it at the Washington monument. Sure, it’s a cliché, but he’s the president.

If anyone can get away with it, it’s him.

“Bea,” he says, “hold up a second.”

I turn, assuming that I’ve got dog hair on the ass of my pants again or something. Duke starts to shed like crazy this time of year—and adorable as he is, he really knows how to screw up a casual spring look.

“I know, I know,” I say, patting my ass down with my hand. “It’s just inescapable, Henry, you know that. Duke’s a good boy and all, but my poor pants—”

Henry makes a stifled noise in the back of his throat, and I look up at him.

My gaze follows him downward as he drops to one knee.

It’s late here in D.C. The moon is the size of a Kennedy half dollar, so big and so close I feel like I could pluck it from the sky and put it in my pocket.

It reflects off the pool before the Washington Monument, giving the water an otherworldly glow.

There are no tourists out here now—just me, Henry, Duke, and two Secret Service agents who appear to be trying very hard to look literally anywhere else.

“It’s you, Bea,” Henry says, reaching into the pocket of his presidential pea coat. “It’s always been you.”

“Always? Are you sure about that, Henry?”

He smiles that presidential smile of his—the one that won the entire country over and put him in the oval office itself.

But there’s something special about it, too.

Something warm and kind and loving that he’s reserved just for me.

“Say yes, Bea.” Henry takes my hand. “This time, say yes.”

“Is that an executive order?”

The special something in Henry’s smile gets even saucier. “It could be.”

I narrow my eyes for a second...then, finally, I smile back at him.

“Let me see your stamp of approval, then.”

Henry withdraws his hand from his pocket and produces a little blue ring box.

But when he opens it...well, it sure is blue, but it’s anything but little.

“Very patriotic,” I tease as he slips it onto my finger.

A princess-cut diamond bookended by rubies and sapphires on either side now adorns my ring finger...making me the fiancé of the President of the United States.

“We wouldn’t want to get married until after the baby, though,” I say hesitantly.

I place my hand over my belly protectively and look down at Henry, biting my lower lip.

“Why not? You’d look good in white.”

“Henry, I’m a cow!”

He rises, lifting my chin so my lips will meet his. I do it almost completely on instinct.

“You’re not a cow,” he reassures me. “You’re my wife. My bride.”

“Not yet,” I remind him.

“And this is my child.” Henry ignores me, instead dipping his lips down to kiss my belly through my blouse. “I’m going to make an honest woman out of your mother yet, you hear?”

“If only I could say the same about its father,” I joke.

“An honest politician? In Washington? Bea, even I have limitations—”

“Oh, I don’t expect you to be honest,” I tease, watching his lips and hoping for a kiss of my own.

“I’ll do my best, though.”

“Is that so?”

“It is. For starters...” He runs his thumb along my lower lip, making me gasp for breath. “Beatrice, I am madly in love with you.”

“You’re not so bad yourself,” I say with a sly smile.

“I’d do anything for you.”

“Nuclear launch codes?”

“Is that what it will take to get a straight answer out of you?”

I giggle, burying my face in Henry’s chest.

Hey. A girl has to try!

“Yes,” I say, finally.

“Honestly?”

I nod my head. “Honestly, Henry. I can’t imagine a better life.”

“It’s not all fun and games...” he warns.

“Like you have to tell me that.”

“And you might not always like being in the spotlight.”

“I’ll deal with it, though. For you.”

“We’ll have to buy you a completely new wardrobe...”

“Henry, are you trying to get me to change my mind?”

He laughs—that comforting, confident, good ol’ boy’s laugh of his.

“No.” He shakes his head. “You’re mine now, Bea. It’d take an army to stop me from having you now.”

“Good thing you’re in charge of the best army in the world, huh?”

“Stop talking, Bea.” Henry chuckles, then dips his lips to mine.

The kiss goes on forever—or at least, until one of the Secret Service members lets out an awkward, somewhat audible cough.

But it’s enough.

We’ll have all the time in the world once Henry’s second term is over.

It will always be enough.