Page 91 of Mack

They followed his voice to find him standing in front of a tree that was at least eight feet tall, arms spread wide like he was trying to measure it.

“That one,” he said again, with great certainty.

Mack looked at Mallory. She looked at him.

“It’s very tall,” she said.

“It’s perfect,” T.J. said.

Mack looked at the tree. It was a good tree. Full, straight, and exactly the kind of tree a farmhouse with high ceilings deserved.

“He’s right,” Mack said. “It’s perfect.”

Mallory shook her head, but she was smiling.

While Nick helped get the tree wrapped and loaded, T.J. found a smaller tree a few rows over and stood beside it with his hands on his hips.

“This one’s for my room,” he said.

“Is it now,” Mack said.

“Yep.” T.J. looked up at him. “Can I have one in my room?”

Mack thought about his mother and her trees in every room and felt something move through him that was close to perfect happiness.

“Yeah, buddy,” he said. “You can have one in your room.”

T.J. ran to tell Mallory, and Mack stood there in the cold pine-screen air and watched the two of them, heads together, Mallory crouched down to T.J.’s level, laughing at something he’d said.

He reached into his coat pocket.

The ring had been there for over a month. He’d picked it up the day after Troy was arrested, which probably said something about him, but he didn’t much care. He’d known for a while. He’d just been waiting for the right moment.

He watched Mallory stand up, turn to look for him, and when she found him, her face lit up and he knew she’d stopped trying to hide from him.

He walked to her.

“Hey,” she said.

“Hey.” He reached for her hand, she gave it to him, and he held it for a moment, looking at her in the light of the winter sky.

“Mack.” She tilted her head. “What are you doing?”

He reached into his pocket with his free hand, went down on one knee in the snow, and watched her eyes go wide.

“Mama,” T.J. said from somewhere behind him. “Mack is on the ground.”

“I see that, baby.”

“Is he okay?”

“I think so.” Her voice had gone unsteady.

Mack looked up at her. “I love you. I love your son. I want to spend the rest of my life making sure you both know that.” He opened the box. “Marry me, Mallory.”

She looked at the ring, then at him, and he watched everything he needed to see move across her face.

“Yes,” she said. It came out on a breath. “Yes.”