by Chloe Morgan
“I was just approached by the party chairman. Unofficially, of course,” Ace said.
“Well, what did he unofficially have to say to you?” I asked.
“He wanted to feel out whether you would be interested in a presidential run.”
My mouth dropped open, and Ace had to brace his arm underneath my own so I wouldn’t drop our daughter.
“You’re pranking me,” I said.
“I’m really not. He just left. The only reason I didn’t usher him in here was because we both heard Angel crying out,” he said.
“No. That didn’t happen. Ace, that couldn’t have happened?”
“And yet, it did. He ran down some figures for me, so I want to spout them off before I forget them.”
“Then, get to spouting,” I said, smiling.
“Your popularity poll numbers are through the roof. Your committee meetings are some of the most watched moments on C-SPAN, to date. You have a massive following behind you, and according to him? America is looking for someone young and energetic to take over next year. Someone who won’t back down from a threat. Which you have a proven track record of.”
I paused. “You already forgot the numbers, didn’t you?”
“I’m terrible with numbers, you know this,” he murmured.
I laughed and leaned over, kissing his forehead softly.
“What do you think?” I asked.
“It isn’t about what I think,” Ace said.
“Yes, it is. Because if this is something we wanted to do, all of us would be thrust into the limelight. Your life, and mine, would be picked apart. Plus, we’d have to hold off indefinitely on our plans for growing our family until we could at least get through the campaign. If I made it that far.”
He cupped my cheek as I felt our daughter unlatch from me.
“You can do anything you put your mind to. And you’d make one heck of a president. It’s about time this country saw what a woman could do in that seat. I think you’d set a wonderful bar for women everywhere that want to run for president in the future,” he said.
“You do know I want to grow our family, though. Right? You know I want at least another child with you, no matter how many jokes I make about putting things off,” I said.
“I know you do.”
“Could I really do that and run a country at the same time?”
He shrugged. “Might be a challenge for other women. But you’re not just any woman, Dawn.”
His unwavering support warmed my heart, and I smiled as I handed him our daughter.
“Can you burp her? I’ve got a phone call to make,” I said.
His smile was massive as he propped Angel softly against his shoulder, his hand tapping against her back. I tucked myself into my bra and righted my clothes, then stood up to head for my desk. I wrapped around and placed my hand on my desk phone, then paused to take in the moment.
I looked up, committing every single part of this to memory before I picked up the phone.
I dialed Chairman Whisnet’s office number, and the phone didn’t even ring once.
“Whisnet speaking,” he said.
“Donald, I hear you’re the one I need to speak with about a presidential run,” I said.
And as Ace smiled at me, I sat down in my chair. I felt extremely blessed at the life I was willing to carve out for myself. And there was nothing better than watching the man I married—the man who had been permanently assigned to keep me safe—cradling our three-month-old daughter.
President, I thought. White House, here we come.
The End
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About the Author
Chloe is a hometown girl from Tennessee who loves a great short romance, drinking coffee most of the day, and hanging out with family. When she's not writing, she can be found playing the piano or surfing Facebook!
Having been a reader all her life, she's hoping that you'll find yourself lost to time, laughing and falling in love all over again with her books.
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Copyright © 2019 by Chloe Morgan.
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
The novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and plot are all either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons – living or dead – is purely coincidental.
Editor: Sandra Depukat
Cover Designer: Ryn Katryn Digital Art