Page 77 of Mack

“No, baby. Mack’s not mad at anyone.”

“Then why doesn’t he come over?”

“He’s been busy with work.”

T.J. studied her reflection for a moment with that unsettling perceptiveness he sometimes had, like he was seeing something she hadn’t said out loud. Then he looked down.

“I miss him,” he said quietly.

Mallory set the comb down, wrapped her arms around him from behind and pressed her face into his hair.

“I know, baby,” she said. “Me too.”

She held him there for a moment longer than she needed to, breathing him in, and told herself she’d done the right thing.

She was still telling herself that when she went to work, and all through the morning, and when she caught herself looking at the courthouse parking lot for a black Silverado that wasn’t there.

She’d done the right thing, but she just wished it didn’t feel so much like losing everything.

Georgia arrived at eight o’clock, earlier than usual, and took one look at her daughter’s face and set her purse down on the counter without a word.

Mallory kept her back to her, pouring coffee she didn’t need, waiting for it.

“Alright,” Georgia said. “Talk.”

“Good morning to you too, Mom.”

“Mallory June.”

She closed her eyes briefly. Her mother only used her middle name when she was done being patient.

She turned around. “Mack and I aren’t seeing each other anymore.”

Georgia stared at her. “What?”

“I ended it.”

“Why?”

“It just wasn’t working.”

Georgia folded her arms, and Mallory recognized that look. It was the same look she gave T.J. when he tried to tell her Rex had knocked something off the shelf by himself.

“That is not true,” Georgia said quietly.

“Mom—”

“That man looks at you like you hung the moon. And you look at him the same way whether you know it or not.” She shook her head. “So, I’ll ask you again. Why?”

Mallory looked at her coffee cup.

“Mallory.” Her mother’s voice softened. “Is it Troy?”

The name landed like a stone in still water and Mallory felt her carefully constructed composure develop a crack right down the middle.

“Mom, please don’t.”

“He’s here, isn’t he.” It wasn’t a question. Georgia had gone very still like she did when she was frightened and trying not to show it. “That’s what this is.”