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I chuckle and feel the tension in my shoulders ease somewhat. “Thank you, prick.”
He takes a final drag on the cigarette, drops it on the floor and grinds it under his heel. “All right,” he says. “Let’s get back to the house so Mack can see she still has a father… and a fiancé.”
We head back to the house, and I pull the ring out of my pocket. I bought it on my way to Mack’s house after we collared French. I obviously haven’t told her yet.
Hank looks at the box, chuckles and says, “Boy, you’re really rubbing this in, aren’t you?”
“Hank, believe me, I never meant to—”
“Oh, shut the fuck up, already,” he says, “Just go make her happy.”
I smile and say, “Will do.”
We reach the house and Mack and Gloria open the door as soon as we start up the driveway. Mack throws her arms around Hank and not me, which surprises both of us, but also gives me a chance to get down on one knee.
“Thank you, Daddy,” Mack says, tears streaming down her face. “Thank you.”
“Yeah, Yeah,” Hank says. “All right. You’re welcome.”
She hugs him for a while before Gloria, who sees me on one knee with the ring, clears her throat loudly. Mack separates from Hank and turns toward her mother.
She stops when she sees me. She gasps and her hands fly to her mouth. I smile up at her and say, “Mack. I’m in love with you and only you, in a way I never thought possible in my life, but you convinced me otherwise just by being…you. I’m sorry I waited so long to tell you. I—” I chuckle, “I guess I thought it was too good to be true. I still think that, but I finally found the courage to act on my feelings instead of burying them. I’m so glad I did. You’re the best woman on Earth and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?”
I know the answer to that question even before Mack gives it, but my heart still floods with joy when she throws her arms around me and says, “Yes. Yes! Oh, Grant. I love you, too.”
We laugh and cry and hold each other for a long time. When she pulls away, it’s only enough to kiss me deeply. That kiss is broken when Hank says, “Christ, will you two give it a rest? We get it, you love each other. Now come inside so I can sit down so I can rest this pounding headache you two gave me.”
We laugh and separate and follow Hank and Gloria inside. Gloria offers to have us for dinner, and I smile and say, “I would love to.” I turn to Hank and say, “That is, if it’s okay with you—Dad.”
He looks at me and very seriously says, “Don’t make me hit you again.”
We laugh again and I think to myself that this is what the fairy tales mean when they talk about happily ever after.
Epilogue
McKenzie
Two Years Later
“Come here, Mack,” Grant growls and I look up from where I’m chopping veggies. I don’t see him so he’s calling me from the living room. I hesitate for a moment and finally put the knife down. I turn around and start moving in that direction. I open my mouth to ask what’s up but then I hear him say, “I’m gonna get you!” and I hear Malcom giggle.
I giggle a little myself and get back to the vegetables but not for long. Instead, I put the knife down again and make my way out of the kitchen. I hear Malcom giggle nervously and step around the corner and look at the two of them. Grant is on all fours making a menacing monster face which I can see in profile. My son is shaking with excitement. Malcom is wonderfully, happily afraid. He stares at Grant but then sees me. He looks up at me and says, “Tickle monster!” It sounds liketickuh monsser. He points at Grant and repeats it.
I smile at my son and nod conspiratorially. “Better be careful!” To my husband, I say, “You know, Grant, if I knew you were going to call him Mack, too, there’s no way I would have agreed to name him Malcom.”
Grant pounces and soon my son is a giggling, shrieking, and squirming mass of limbs on the floor. I watch his trying to wiggle away from Grant’s attack, laughing and kicking. Without turning his attention away from our son, Grant says, “You picked the name. I’m the one who agreed.”
“I don’t know about that,” I say, “I think maybe you used some hotshot detective trick on me, like how you get bad guys to confess without them knowing that’s what they’re doing.”
Grant reacts as though he’s shocked by my response. He asks, “What?” but it sounds like he’s saying, “Whaaaaaaaat?” In the process, he lets go of our son, who scrambles away like a wild animal just released from a trap. In the same exaggerated way, Grant says, “Darn it! Mack got away!”
Malcom creeps carefully to the other side of the coffee table, waiting for his father to catch him again. His face is filled with joy and excitement. It has plenty of fear, too, but the excited kind of fear like when he turns the handle on his jack in the box or when he’s watching a timer and trying to get all his shapes into place before the table pops and sends them flying. He points at Grant and says, “Tickle monster! Tickle monster!”
Grant growls at him and Malcom giggles loudly. “If you figure out how to get bad guys to confess accidentally,” Grant says, “You be sure to tell me all about it.” He feints toward Malcom, who shrieks and runs his wobbly run my direction, finally hiding behind one of my legs and staring at his father while fighting back giggles but still letting out a few chirping laughs.
“Sorry Mack,” I say as I gently disengage from him. “I have to get the roast in the oven.” Suddenly unprotected, he squeals and runs to the couch, climbing up and turning around to stare at Grant. I head back to the kitchen, shaking my head and laughing. Soon, I’m at the counter again with the knife. I only work for a second before I stop, though. I rush back to the living room. “Grant!” I say, “Now you’ve got me calling him Mack, too!”
Grant laughs and says, “It’s just meant to be, Honey. You can’t fight fate, Mack.” He lunges forward and Malcom shrieks as his father’s fingers get to work. “He’s a Mack. There’s nothing we can do about it.” As Malcom squirms and tries to wiggle away, he starts singing, “Oh the shark, babe, has such teeth, dear, and shows them pearly white…”
