"These are my favorite mornings."

Mac smiles at her words and accepts the cup of coffee Jo offers to him as his eyes take in exactly what makes these his favorite mornings, too. She's wearing one of his shirts and nothing else, her hair spun up and clipped messily to keep it off her neck. It's a warm morning for fall, and because they're at his place, they have the balcony doors open, the sounds of a New York City Sunday drifting in from the streets.

She curls into his lap with her own coffee mug held securely in her hands, and then she grabs the remote to turn up the NFL pregame show because they're commenting on Alabama's win the day before.

This is their idea of a perfect day off, and the fact that they share that belief is something Mac appreciates entirely. He's listened for years as his male friends lamented Sundays where their significant others tried to get them away from the TV and whichever football game they were determined to watch. He and Jo don't get to do this often... there's usually something to do with Ellie or Tyler or a work emergency or one of the half-dozen combined charities they support needs a hand at an event. But sometimes they get lucky... sometimes Ellie has a sleepover and Tyler is busy with college life or his dad and they manage to say no to a request or two for help and, mercifully, nothing bad enough to justify calling the two top dogs in the crime lab sends their phones into a ringing frenzy.

They know enough to appreciate the days when they come... they sleep in, Mac decides he can live without a run, and they make love slowly, decadently, no rush to get to work, no worries about keeping quiet because Ellie's down the hall.

Then there's coffee with Jo wearing one of his shirts and football and breakfast... and if he really plays his cards right, he gets to peel the button-up off of Jo later in the day and take her back to bed.

"You know what would really make today perfect?" she asks, and Mac smiles and takes a sip of his coffee before replying with a "what?"

"Pancakes. I think we definitely need pancakes for breakfast."

He runs a hand up her back and out to her shoulder, pulling her in tighter.

"I think I can accommodate that request, but it will require you finding another place to sit."

"Well, I didn't say you had to make them right now."

Jo laughs, which makes him laugh, and it feels good in a way he's not sure he could explain to anyone who'd never felt the sense of loneliness he lived with in the years after Clarie's death. He's been happy since that awful day, laughed, loved... but this is something that feels impossible to define. He's connected to the world again in every sense, and it's a thing he now understands comes from the presence of another person who doesn't just love you or like you or even want you. She knows him. Jo knows him after a year in a way that only one other person ever has, and Mac isn't sure most days how that happened. But his gratitude for it is immeasurable. Because he didn't honestly realize how much he missed this, how much he needed it, until she snuck in through the twisted wreckage inside of him and found the piece of his heart that had never come back.

Not until her.

They watch the rest of the pregame and the kickoff of the Giants and Cowboys, and then when more coffee beckons, Jo finally relinquishes her spot, and they head into the kitchen together.

"How about apple-cinnamon pancakes?" he asks as she refills his cup.

"See? I keep thinking I can't love you more, and then... you up the pancake ante. And I do."

Her kiss lands on the side of his mouth, and Mac finds himself laughing again because he still feels a slight heat in his cheeks every time she says it like that, so easily, as if it's as natural to her as breathing.

I love you.

The words barely convey what they have, and they both know it. For some reason, though, the words are still hard for him, and even if he knows it's unfair, Jo never calls him on it or demands what he isn't ready to give.

For so long, the women in his life seemed intimidated by the idea of the love he'd known before, and because of that, it always seemed like they were determined to make the words happen. Jo hasn't forced the issue, though, and when he asked her once if it bothered her to think of Claire, her answer spoke volumes about why she was now an essential part of his life.

"You know how to love because of Claire. When I think about her, I just think how much I owe her for helping you become the Mac Taylor I know now."

He wants to keep her there, to get her to talk to him while he makes breakfast, but it's likely that they won't be eating until noon if that happens because she's standing there in his shirt and those legs of hers are too distracting. Mac tells Jo as much as he sends her back into the living room to enjoy the game while he cooks.

The first pancakes are just starting to bubble when he hears a loud cheer.

"Pick six Giants. Romo looks ready to cry already."

Mac laughs and sprinkles the uncooked side of the pancakes with cinnamon before he flips them over. The house smells like fall now, even if it feels like summer outside.

The knock at the door catches him by surprise because very few people ever drop by his place without calling first. Mac's first instinct is to tell Jo to go ahead and answer it, but then he remembers her legs in that shirt and thinks twice. But she's there beside him a beat later, her hand skimming away the spatula.

"I'll watch these. You get the door."

He kisses her and heads out and when he looks through the peephole, Mac is beyond surprised to see the face on the other side. He's still doubting his eyes when he pulls the portal open.

"Peyton?"

"I know. I should've called. And I'm sorry. Just... I was in town, and I've been wanting to call, and I don't know. I just took a chance that you hadn't moved again."

He invites her in even though his mind is spinning. It's not that it's bad to see her, it's just so unexpected. In Mac's mind, their last good-bye had felt final... mutual and final, and at least after the absurdity of her breaking up with him via air mail, there was some closure to what they'd been.

"What brings you to town?" is the first thing he can think to ask, and she smiles and shrugs.

"Conference. I'm giving a guest lecture. And I just... really wanted to see how you were."

Mac nods, motions with his hand for her to make her way past the entry and further into the apartment.

"I'm good. And you look great. Life is being kind to you, I take it."

The slight smile and shy eyes she casts at him in response to his statement leaves Mac a little unsure if he's right or not, but before he can ask for more detail, he hears Jo approach from the kitchen. He's about to warn her they aren't alone, but sees she must have ducked into his room and grabbed his robe, because those legs of hers are now partially hidden by the blue and gray flannel.

"I put breakfast in the warmer."

Because he glances back to Peyton in order to make introductions, he catches the look of shock on his ex's face. He wonders at that. Did she really expect him to still be alone after all this time?

"Jo Danville, this is Dr. Peyton Driscoll. Peyton, this is Jo."

Jo offers her hand and says hello, remembering that Peyton lives in London and asking her what brings her to New York. Peyton gives her the same answer she gave him, but it sounds different this time... a little less polished, a little more like a lie, maybe, and he wonders about that, too.

"I don't want to keep you from your breakfast, but, Mac, maybe we could talk sometime before I leave?"

"Can you come by the lab tomorrow? We can grab a cup of coffee."

"That would be lovely, thanks. Jo, it was... nice to meet you."

And Mac wonders if Jo heard the pause, too... the way Peyton had to make herself think of the right thing to say.

He expects to have to talk about this, about his ex showing up uninvited at his doorstep, but the moment the door is closed, Mac feels Jo's arms slide around his waist.

"I hope I wasn't rude, but I'm starving. Race you to the kitchen?"

And the visit is forgotten as their day fills itself with apple-cinnamon pancakes, a Giants victory, and a chance for him to peel his robe and that button-up shirt off of Jo's body when they somehow make it back to the bed that afternoon without falling over in the dizzy haze that washes over him whenever she kisses the pulse point in his neck.

Later, before thoughts of dinner plans and Ellie's return and Tyler coming for Sunday dinner send their perfect day into memory, Mac draws circles against the bare skin of her back, Jo's cheek pressed to his chest, and even though he doesn't mean for the words to be spoken out loud, he doesn't regret it when he hears his own voice and knows she hears it, too.

"I can't imagine my life without you here."

They're not the other words, but they matter, and he hopes she knows how much.

After one of their lazy, perfect Sundays, there's always a part of Jo that doesn't want Monday to come. And that's an odd sensation for her considering how much she loves her job. But as much as coming to work is like seeing the rest of her family given the close-knit unit at the crime lab, as happy as she is to have the smaller circle at home of her, Mac, and Ellie, those precious hours that are just her and Mac are hard to let go of.

But Monday comes, and back to work it is. And it's a busy morning, two cases in court, two hot murders needing scene processing, and a stack of reports that need to be read and approved. So when Jo receives Mac's text that he's held up at the courthouse, she isn't surprised because it's just that kind of day, clearly.

The Brit's arrival at the lab is met with a raised eyebrow from Lindsay, and Jo can't help but chuckle as she heads out to greet Peyton in Mac's absence.

"He's running a little late, but if you want to wait for him in his office, he shouldn't be too long."

Peyton thanks her and Jo walks her over out of courtesy more than an idea the woman doesn't remember where Mac's office is. She knows all about their history, of course, partially from Mac and partly from the lab gossip machine. But history is exactly what Jo considers it.

Until Peyton decides to make it anything but.

"So I'm sorry again for interrupting yesterday. I can't imagine you were too pleased to have Mac's ex-girlfriend showing up at his door."

"It was no problem really," Jo replies, honestly not thinking much more of it than Peyton seems troubled and needs to talk to Mac.

"It's awfully good of you not to mind my stealing him away for a bit."

It's not the words themselves so much as how Peyton looks at her while saying them that sets Jo's nerves on edge. And Jo isn't the type of woman to play this game, so she levels her eyes at the younger woman and doesn't miss a beat.

"I don't mind, but you'd clearly like me to."

Her frankness catches Peyton off-guard, but to her credit, the doctor doesn't try to deny it.

"I didn't know he was... involved... when I decided to seek him out."

"But now you do. It doesn't seem to matter, though."

"We were very important to each other once. I'd be a fool not to see if that was still alive, wouldn't I?"

Jo's upbringing is full of lessons about Southern manners and how to treat guests in your home, which is essentially what the lab is. But she's fairly certain her mother would consider this one of those times when a guest has worn out their welcome.

"You were the one who was foolish enough to let him go," she says, and can't deny the satisfaction she feels when Peyton's eyes darken a little. "You can rest assured, doctor, that I'm not about to make the same mistake."

She knows her patience is running short, and so Jo heads toward the door. But the accented voice stops her in her tracks.

"And if he wants to go... wants to come back to me?"

It's obvious what the woman wants, and a part of Jo... the part that's all female and territorial and innately jealous... wants to give it to her. But the grown-up parts, the ones with too much respect for the man she loves to play games... she's the one who answers.

"Mac is a grown man. He'll do whatever he wants, likely no matter what you or I have to say about it."

And she leaves then, walking past the questioning look in Lindsay and Adam's eyes, past the look of worry on Hawkes' face, and into her office, where Jo eases into her chair and draws in a deep breath.

She couldn't care less about Peyton Driscoll, not really. Jo knows Mac is over her, and if the woman needs to hear it from the horse's mouth, then so be it. But all the maturity and self-confidence in the world isn't enough to keep her from being shaken by the encounter. Because she doesn't feel threatened, she feels disrespected... like this woman just looked at her and saw nothing standing in front of her. And that bothers her in a way she can't quite explain.

She doesn't want to believe it's about the words, because Mac shows it all the time. Jo knows that he loves her, that he wants her. The words shouldn't matter. But she thinks that maybe if he'd said them, she'd be as impervious to the small shred of insecurity that's tearing at her now as she is to all of Peyton's obvious plotting.

But they're not words she can ask for. She knows him too well to even consider it. Mac is hers, but he's still surrendering to it, and until he's ready to give her that, she'll wait.

She knows the Peytons of the world can't hurt them. But pushing him will. And the man just told her that he couldn't imagine life without her.

That matters. Jo knows it does, and so she takes a deep breath and goes back to work, trying to leave that tiny doubtful voice behind.

The flash of outrage he feels surprises him, because Mac isn't quick to anger when it comes to the women in his life, but when Peyton's hand drops over his and she says that she misses him, he feels the ugly emotion surge within.

"You miss me?"

"Yes. I... I thought it would fade once we really said good-bye, but I find myself thinking about you and missing you. And I felt that I owed it to both of us to tell you that."

Male pride has never allowed Mac to completely let go of the slight he felt at Peyton ending their relationship with a letter. He knows now that he never completely opened up to her, but still, he'd invested in them and he deserved better than that. But then she'd shown up in that bizarre domestic terrorism case, and they'd made peace.

But now she's sitting here looking at him like she really expects him to be grateful that she misses him, her hand giving his a squeeze, and Mac feels the muscles in his neck tighten.

"Peyton, you realize I'm involved with someone else."

"Well, of course I do. And Jo seems... like a lovely woman. But... Mac, have you thought about what you're giving up by being with her?"

"What exactly am I giving up?"

He asks solely because he wants to see what she'll say, because Mac can't imagine anything he's sacrificing by falling in love with Jo. He knows what he's gained, knows how parts of him have come back to life thanks to her, and the very idea that someone who doesn't know the remarkable woman she is would presume to tell him anything about their relationship tightens his jaw. Still, he wants to hear what Peyton has to say and credits it to something bordering on morbid curiosity.

"I used to wonder... what our children would look like. Didn't you ever think about that, about having a family of your own?"

And his curiosity morphs into another wave of anger.

"I have a family, Peyton. Jo's daughter might as well be mine now. Her son and I are great friends. I'm not lacking anything."

"But, Mac..."

He can't be polite anymore, though, because he suddenly realizes this is his fault. He somehow didn't do something or say something yesterday or in their talk today to make it clear where he stands, and so Mac pulls his hand away from hers and cuts her off.

"Jo is not a woman I'm with until I find what I want, Peyton. She's the woman I love. I love her children. I am happy and content, and there is nothing I don't have that I need except a little more free time to be with my family. So thank you for being honest with me about what you want from me. I'm not interested, and if you'll excuse me, I need to get back to work."

He doesn't give her a chance to argue. Mac stands and walks out of the coffee shop and makes a beeline back to his office. And with every step he takes, the words he's just said out loud play over in his head, his anger dissipating as the truth of them settles in, making their presence known in both his mind and his heart.

He said the words. He didn't say them to her, but he said them, and they felt right coming out of his mouth. He said them, and he feels like someone just handed him the world.

Now Mac knows he just has to say them to the right woman.

The day keeps them separated, though, which feels like some kind of evil plot. Jo ends up interrogating two suspects in one of their homicide investigations while Mac spends the better part of his afternoon recreating the blood spatter patterns from the other to try to confirm an eyewitness account that doesn't quite make sense when compared to what the crime scene photos are telling them.

But finally, he walks through the front door of her apartment, which is still where they spend the bulk of their nights, and Mac finds her curled into the orange and white chair that he teases her about all the time, calling it too girlie for his place, which will be their place as soon as her lease expires.

"Dinner's almost ready," she offers, and he walks over and drops down onto the couch, which puts him close enough to lean forward and rest his hand on her leg.

"Ellie doing homework?"

Jo nods and lets her hand fall over his where it rests against her.

"So did Peyton make her big move on you?"

He can't help but laugh because the expression on Jo's face and the tone of her voice tell him all he needs to know about how she regards his ex.

"She did, yes. I told her I wasn't interested."

He expects her to smile at that or to roll her eyes, because the whole thing seems a little ridiculous now... Peyton showing up here, expecting him to want to give them another chance, asking for it even after she realized he was involved with Jo.

But she doesn't laugh or roll her eyes, and Mac isn't sure what to do with that.

"Jo, you knew I wasn't interested, didn't you?"

She does roll her eyes at that, which takes away a little of the tension knotted up in his gut.

"Of course I knew that. It's just... she acted like what we have was... nothing. Like I was some rock in the street she had to step over. It made me angry, that's all."

He pulls on her hand a little and she unfolds herself and moves over to him to curl up into his lap as he leans back against the sofa cushions.

"It made me angry, too. And I told her how wrong she was."

That makes her smile a little.

"You did?"

Mac brings his hand up and traces the edge of her face with his fingers.

"I did. You know what else I told her?"

"Oh, I have a list of things I'd love to say to that."

Her answer makes him laugh.

"I can imagine, and I bet most of them are not very ladylike."

And her look tells him how right he is.

"I told her that I loved you."

Jo's breath catches a little at that, her reaction telling him it was the last thing she expected to hear. And part of him wishes it hadn't taken this long for him to say it so plainly. But he can't regret that he waited until he can say it without a hint of reservation or worry in his voice.

"I do, you know? I love you, Jo, more than I can say."

And he knows they're just words, that they really do barely convey the depth of what she makes him feel, but they matter, and when he sees how much it touches her to finally hear them, Mac pulls Jo close and says them again.