She couldn’t help but laugh. “Sure, I’ll clean my guns. We can lay them all out on the dining room table while we do it. Or maybe the coffee table while she watches a show with a boy. What age can we start this?”
“I dunno. You think five is too early?”
He was about to send her into a fit of giggles. “Five? That’s a little early. I’m thinking twelve. She’ll be entering puberty and getting interested in boys around then, so why not?”
“Okay, so twelve years old, we clean guns when she invites a boy over. You want to put that in the calendar, or do you want me to?”
“I think we’ll remember.”
He kissed her forehead. “You’re going to be great, Kat. We’re going to be great together. I mean yeah, I for sure don’t know what the hell I’m doing. But you’ll keep me on track. We’re going to have a great daughter. She’s going to have the best we can give her, and she’s going to be smart and more capable than either of us can imagine. Hell, we might have a future president on our hands. You never know.”
Kat hugged him tight, tears pricking her eyelids. “I’m glad you’re so positive. I am too, really—I just get a little overwhelmed at times.”
“You can always tell me the truth, babe. When you’re overwhelmed, let me help. We’re partners and equals, and Elena is my kid as much as she’s yours. I’m changing diapers and getting up in the middle of the night and doing my turn with everything—except breast feeding, for obvious reasons.”
She laughed. “You’re a goofball.”
“I can be. Not many people know that, so keep it under your hat, okay? Can’t have my reputation as a hard ass taking a hit.”
He was teasing her now and she loved him for it. He managed to chase away the doubts with his silliness. “It’s our secret. But never divorce me because I’ll tell everyone. I’ll take out billboards on the Beltway.”
“Divorce you? Not possible. That word doesn’t exist for me. It’s you and me and Elena forever.”
“Sounds perfect to me.”
“Come on, finish your breakfast. I’ll do the dishes and we can watch one of those movies on our list.”
“Which one?”
“Whichever one you want, baby.”
“A Christmas Carol.”
“Then that’s the one. Eat.”
She did.
11
December 25th
Mendez woke early again, shoveled the driveway again, and went inside to find that Kat was still asleep. He took the casserole she’d prepared the night before from the fridge and put it in the oven, following the instructions she’d left on the counter. Thirty minutes later it was done and Kat came shuffling in, red hair piled on her head in a messy bun as she yawned and mumbled, “Merry Christmas, Johnny.”
He put a cup of decaf in her hand and kissed the top of her head. “Merry Christmas, Kat.”
He led her to the great room and seated her in front of the tree. Then he returned with a chunk of the breakfast casserole on a plate and gave it to her. He went back for one for himself before joining her. They ate a few bites, then put their plates on the coffee table while he handed out the presents for them to open. They hadn’t bought a lot for each other simply because they’d been planning for the baby, plus they already had the things they wanted.
But Kat got misty-eyed over the necklace he gave her. “It’s beautiful,” she said, and he knew she was close to crying.
“Like you,” he told her. He stood and fastened it for her, and she stroked it with her hand, lifting it to look at the diamonds.
“One for each of us. That’s so sweet, Johnny.”
“That’s me, honey. Sweet.”
He grinned and she sniffled. “Well, you are. For me.”
“For you,” he acknowledged. He opened his presents from her—a sweater, a fancy remote control for his man cave, a shirt that said Baby Daddy on it and made him laugh, and finally a set of heavy silver desk frames that she’d populated with photos. The first was of her and him together at their wedding. The second was of Roman. Mendez thought he was about eight or so in the photo. The third was blank.
“I thought you could put all of us on your desk. We’ll get one of Elena soon,” Kat said softly.
His throat was uncharacteristically tight. “That would be wonderful.”
Kat put her hand on his knee. “If you want to keep it private, your desk here is fine too. You don’t have to take the pictures to work.”
He looked up, into her eyes that sparkled with tears, and shook his head fiercely. “No, they go to work with me. I want to look at this family of ours every day I’m there. I don’t need reminders of what I do this job for, because I carry you all in here.” He tapped his chest. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to have a physical reminder too.”
“I’m glad you like them.”
“I love them.”
He thought of a text he’d had from Ian last night. He went to a cemetery. Stood in front of the gravestone for the Yelchins.
Mendez had texted back a thumbs up because he hadn’t wanted to make Kat think he was doing anything. Not that she’d have asked, but they’d been enjoying watching a movie together and he hadn’t wanted to detract from what they were doing.
He pictured the young man in the photo Ian had shown him putting flowers on the grave where Peter and Ludmilla Yelchin, and Roman Rostov, lay. Not that Roman Rostov was the name on the stone. It was Yelchin because they’d been raising him and Dmitri Leonov had told Kat it was better to let everyone believe Roman was their son, not hers. It was a lot of trouble for a setup, but also the kind of thing one did when running a con. Especially
