Page 102 of Assassin Anonymous

Astrid smiles. “She’s pregnant?”

“Close to popping. You will not be surprised to hear it’s not doing much for her demeanor. But she’s going to be a good mom. She’s so excited.”

“I don’t have anything to bring.”

“Me and Booker got a bunch of cool stuff. We’ll throw your name on the card.”

She hesitates. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“No.” I offer her my free hand. “But it could be.”

She lets out a light laugh that feels warm and familiar—like it was back when we were on the run, when I thought there might be something between us. “We’re not holding hands, Mark.”

“Right,” I tell her, sticking my hand in my pocket. “C’mon, though, worst thing that happens”—I hold up the box—“is you get some cupcakes.”

“What kind?”

“Red velvet. Best in the city, according to Booker.”

She surveys the empty street, and the sparkling lights and decorations, and the swirling snowflakes, and the enormity of what it means to decide you want to change.

Both the impossibility and the simplicity of it.

“Okay,” she says. “Lead the way.”

I turn in the direction of the subway, and for a few steps, she follows, until she falls in alongside me. The snow picks up, dusting the street, the stunted and barren trees lining the sidewalk and reaching up to the streetlights, and even if this is all a ruse, even if her ultimate plan is to kill me, it’s hard not to appreciate this moment.