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“Hi. My name’s Archer.”

I sat in the inner circle of chairs and looked up at the man I loved. My palms were sweaty and my nerves were on fire. I watched as his right arm shook slightly, unlike his left, and I watched a bead of sweat run down the side of his face.

He held his arms to his sides, fingers tightly made into fists. But he looked brave and determined, and god, was I ever proud of him.

His hair had grown a little longer these past few months. The bags under his eyes were now gone, and his skin once again glowed with youth and vibrancy and a type of happiness I’d never seen on him before. He wore a black T-shirt, jeans, and sneakers, and I knew there was a picture of his nephew, Aiden, tucked into his back pocket for courage.

Six months.

Six months had passed since Archer agreed to come live with me in Banff. Six months since Archer had called Amanda and learned about Aiden. Six months since Danny had found out that his father and best friend were a couple.

Six months since I’d become the happiest person on the face of the planet.

The day after Archer had found out about Aiden, he’d spent the day tucked behind the laptop in the kitchen. He’d looked so focused and so determined, and I had desperately wanted to ask what he was doing but thought better of it. I could tell by the expression on his face that this was something Archer had to do for himself.

Later that night, as we lay naked under the sheets on our bed, Archer told me what he’d spent the day doing.

“I’m going to start going to physical therapy again. For my arm.”

I took his right hand in mine, brought it to my lips, and kissed each of his fingers. “Okay. I’ll go with you.”

He chuckled. “I can drive myself this time, Mallory.”

I nodded. “I know. But I’ll go with you.”

I was rewarded with a tiny smile. “Maybe it won’t ever go back to the way it was. Maybe it’ll never be as good as new. Maybe I’ll still never be able to shoot a gun. But that’s okay.”

“Yeah, Archer, it is.”

“I’ve got to try. If I don’t, I think I’ll regret it. And if I don’t end up joining the force, that’s okay too.”

“It is.”

“And… I’m going to see someone. A psychiatrist. To help me sort out all of these thoughts I have mixed up in my head.”

“Good, Archer. That’s good.”

“I want to get better.”

I pulled him close to me and pressed his forehead to my shoulder. “I know, Sweetheart. I know you do.”

“Mallory?”

“Hm?”

“I feel so light. Like maybe there is a light at the end of the tunnel.”

“There is.” I kissed the top of his head. “And if there isn’t, I’ll dig a way out for us. Because I’ll be wherever you are. Now and forever.”

Now here, six months later I was looking up at the results of that amazing person who’d wanted to be happy.

We still went to the same bereavement group. We’d made a few close friends there. Archer’s psychiatrist had told him it would be good for him to interact more with strangers. And when he had, the brightness of his smile could’ve lit up the entire room.

I still spoke from time to time. I told the group about missing my wife but how I was finally able to find peace and happiness once again. Afterward, almost everyone in the group had told me how happy they were for me. I’d held onto Archer’s hand tighter than usual during the drive home.

But even in those past six months, Archer hadn’t been able to speak to the group, which was fine. Archer would work through things at his own pace. The grieving process is difficult, and everyone deals with it differently, at different speeds, and in different ways.

So, I’d never once asked him if he was going to speak to the group because I’d known that when he was ready, he’d let me know.

And today, he’d let me know.

He was the last person to volunteer to talk. There were a few surprised faces around the room when he’d stood up nervously and looked around. But he was strong, so he held his chin up, took a deep breath, and spoke.

“I’ve been coming to this group for a while and haven’t had the courage to speak here before now. Or speak at any group. I first came here a few years ago. But I wasn’t healing then, not the way I’m healing now.

“I’m happier today than I was yesterday. And yesterday, I was happier than I was the day before. I’m taking better care of myself. I needed… help. I still need help. I still want help. I know I’m on the right track now. I wasn’t before and I never want to be on that track again. It was dark and so damn lonely.

“I’ve met someone. And I want to continue getting better. Not for… him. Not only for him. For myself. I want to get better for me. I want to be happy for me. I deserve to be happy. He showed me that.

“I’ve been seeing a therapist. She’s great. And I think—no, I know that my parents would’ve been proud of the person I’ve become. Because I’m trying damn hard to be a good person and they were good people too. I have a nephew who I’m going to try to give the world to and a partner who looks at me like I’m the whole world to him.

“So that’s exactly what I’m going to continue to do. I’m going to get better and I’m going to be happy. It’s what my parents would’ve wanted for me. It’s what I want for me.”

When Archer sat back down next to me and took my hand in his, I leaned over and whispered, “I love you, Archer.”

He grinned. “I love you, Mallory. And I love me too.”