Stella hummed as she dusted. It was some wordless tune, and Mac thought he recognized it from one of her CDs. Leaning against the doorframe, he watched her move through the room, a small smile on his face.
She moved toward the mantle, picking up each object as she ran the rag across the wood. At the very end, she picked up a silver picture frame, starting at it. Mac felt himself tense, but then Stella smiled, setting the picture back down.
"Does it bother you?" he asked.
She raised an eyebrow at him, seemingly unsurprised at his presence. "No. Why would it?"
He shrugged. "I think it would make most women a little…uncomfortable."
Walking over to him, she rested her hand on his cheek. "Mac, she was your wife. Not some ex-lover or dirty secret that you need to keep locked away in the closet." She gave him a quiet smile. "You'll always love her, and I know that. But I also know that you're mine. Claire is a part of who you are, and I love you."
Blinking back tears, Mac stepped forward and pulled her against his body, burying his face in her hair.
"I love you too," he whispered.