Page 237 of Johnny

“Hell no, Johnny Boston. I did not go on this long journey, and learn these dark secrets, and

become a weary Mrs. Captain Hook just so I could be some trophy wife—” I laugh here. “—or

president of the motherfucking PTA.” She kisses me on the lips.

A very soft, gentle kiss.

“But…” she whispers into my mouth. “We have been given a one-year break from the action. And

our first directive was to have a child. And that we will do.”

I sigh. Push her wild blonde hair away from her face and tuck it behind her ear. “It’s a trap, Megan.

You know that.”

She nods. “I do. I know that. But that was the deal. And you singed it. So now we have to trust that

while we are doing our new job, someone else is doing theirs.”

“Who though? Who is doing that job?”

“Your mother. My father and his new lab partner. Those three people in those pictures she showed

you.”

“Nick Tate,” I say.

“And that little girl.”

“Yeah. Indie. And her team.”

“One year,” Megan says. Leaning down to bump her forehead against mine. “We have one perfect

year of guaranteed happiness. So let’s take your mother’s insider advice and enjoy it. It’s what you

wish for, right?”

“What?”

“Your wish. Remember? Things are calm and life is easy. No more thoughts about the Way or the

money. You and me and a little house.”

I take a deep breath and let it out.

“A house with a yard and windows that open. And a dog. And maybe,” she pauses. “One day, a

kid.”

She’s right. That was my wish. “I just don’t like the idea that it has an expiration date, Megan.”

“Johnny Boston. Are you fucking serious right now?

“What?”

“Mr. Death-is-only-really-choice-we-get? Ringing any bells?”

“It’s not the same.”