The front door swings shut behind me with a solid thunk, sealing out the cool evening air. I exhale, rolling my shoulders as I drop my keys onto the marble entryway table. The house is quiet—too quiet.

“Babe?” I call out, my voice carrying through the open layout of our home. The foyer gives way to a spacious living room, sleek but warm, with dark hardwood floors and floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city skyline. The kind of place that says we worked for this but doesn’t quite tip into extravagance.

No answer.

I sigh, toeing off my shoes and loosening my tie as I head toward the stairs. It’s no mystery where she is.

Our bedroom is on the second floor, but I don’t stop there. Instead, I turn down the hall to her office—her sanctuary. The rich scent of old books and vanilla candles greets me before I even step inside. The back wall is lined with shelves, packed with thick criminology and psychology books, spines worn from years of study. My wife sits at her desk, one hand resting lightly on the stem of a half-full wine glass, the other scrolling through case files on her laptop. Her brows knit together in concentration, completely unaware of my presence.

A smirk tugs at my lips.

Crossing the room, I lean down and press a slow kiss to the top of her head before swiftly dragging my fingers along her sides.

She jolts, a sharp gasp escaping her lips before it melts into a breathy, unwilling laugh. “James—stop,” she half-scolds, trying to squirm away even as her shoulders shake with suppressed giggles.

I chuckle but let my hands fall away, slipping them into my pockets as I lean against the desk. I don’t leave, though. Instead, I tilt my head and rest it against her shoulder, inhaling the familiar scent of her perfume.

For a moment, I just breathe.

Then, in a voice softer than before, I murmur, “I’ve been thinking… now’s the perfect time to start a family.”