The morning of Marie's departure had come entirely too soon for her liking. Remy was gone from the bed when she woke up, and while she wasn't surprised, she couldn't help feeling a little disappointed that she hadn't woken up in his arms. Maybe it was because she had wanted some kind of indication that he didn't want her to go, even if only subconscious, maybe she had wanted to pretend a little longer.
After not finding him in the house, Marie looked out the window. His car wasn't in the driveway, but she knew he wouldn't have left without saying goodbye. If she had to guess, she'd say that he'd probably gone out to pick up breakfast. They hadn't discussed it, but there was little left in the house. Marie had just assumed that they'd both grab something on the road.
While she waited for Remy to return, Marie packed the remainder of her things and then carried her suitcase out to the kitchen. The house being in boxes reminded her of when they had moved in. Back when tragedies were things that happened to other people, and forever with Remy had seemed like such a long time. Their whole lives had been in front of them, not planned out exactly, but headed in a known direction.
Marie slowly wandered through the house, saying a quiet goodbye to each room. She was on the patio, taking in the yard one last time, when Remy came home.
"I was hoping I'd make it back before you got up," he said from the doorway. "I wanted to surprise you."
She followed him back inside. As expected, there was a plastic bag and a tray with two coffee cups on the kitchen table. "I am surprised. What did you pick up?"
He unpacked several Styrofoam containers from the bag. "I didn't know what you'd have the envie for, so I got a little of everything."
Fruit, scrambled eggs, bacon and sausage, biscuits with gravy. It looked and smelled delicious. "It's perfect, Remy."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. Five stars."
After they cleaned up from breakfast and loaded up Remy's car with the things he was taking back to Louisiana, it was time to leave.
Remy pulled the little silver box out of his front pocket and held it out to her. "You should take him with you," he said.
"Are you sure?"
Remy nodded. "He's been with me for seven and a half years. It's time for him to be with his mama now."
Marie swallowed hard, and tucked the ashes safely into her purse. If she looked at Remy, it was a sure bet she'd start crying. And then she might never stop. "Only until we find a name that we both like," she said as she fiddled with the purse's zipper pull.
"Deal." He picked up her luggage and carried it out to the car.
On her way out, Marie pulled the door shut and locked it for the last time. The house had been so full of promise, it was a shame that they had never gotten to use it to its full potential.
She popped the trunk for Remy, and then waited at the driver's side door. There were things that she wanted to say, and in the twenty seconds it took for him to load the suitcase in the trunk, she said them all, and then they went back inside and forgot about ever leaving.
If only.
"Well...I guess this is it," he said when he joined her.
"I guess so."
The reality was that in less than a minute, he was going to get into his car, and she would get into hers. She would head in one direction, toward Jackson, and Remy would head in another, towards New Orleans. Marie didn't know if she would ever see him again. Maybe he'd be around if she visited her grandparents, maybe not. Even if she did see him, it wouldn't be the same. But at least she was leaving Mississippi the right way this time.
"It was real good seeing you again," Remy said, looking down at the ground.
"I'm glad that you were here," she told him. "I thought I could deal with this alone, but having you here...it helped a lot. And I'm glad that we cleared things up."
"Got closure."
"Yeah. Thank you again, for everything."
"You're welcome."
She took a chance and threw her arms around his neck, since it might be the last time she'd ever be able to do it. It might have just been her imagination, but it seemed like he squeezed her back even tighter. Eventually though, they had to pull apart. It was already awkward.
It felt as if her soul was being ripped from her body, but somehow, she found the strength to let Remy go.
She started to tear up, but nervously laughed it off. "I'm getting sentimental about a house."
"You'll be okay once you get back to New York," he said. "It seems like you've got good friends looking out for you. Logan, and...your fiancé will be happy to have you home."
It took her a second to remember who he was talking about. And then she felt guilty for forgetting about Bobby. "Right."
Remy opened the car door for her and she slid in behind the wheel. She didn't want to go, but she had to get out of there before leaving became impossible.
"Drive safe," he said.
"You too," she replied, and then Remy shut the door.
He watched as she backed out of the driveway, and Marie knew that she should smile and wave goodbye, so that he would know that she was okay. But she couldn't do it.
She wasn't okay.
Marie drove for as long as she could before her tears made the road too fuzzy, and she had to pull over and cry for a few minutes, just to get it out of her system.
xxx
When the cab pulled up to the door at the side of the mansion that evening, Marie sat motionless. She had an overwhelming desire to ask the driver to turn around and take her back to her house in Mississippi. It was silly—the mansion had been her home for far longer than the house had, but the imposing gray stone building wasn't anything that anyone would ever call 'cozy'.
Everything would be fine once she adjusted to being back. She had forgotten about that part of her life before, she could do it again.
Liar, one of the voices in her mind said. It sounded startlingly like her own.
"Is this the right place?" the cab driver asked.
"Yes, thank you."
Marie got out, retrieved her suitcase and bag, and then paid the driver. In an afterthought, she remembered that she hadn't even texted Bobby to let him know that she was on the way back. He might not even be home. He could've been sent out on a mission for all she knew.
The residence wing was quiet, and the hallways deserted, which was why she had come in through the side door instead of the front entrance. She didn't feel like talking to anyone.
She unlocked the door to the apartment and pushed it open.
Nothing had changed in her absence. As she passed by the kitchenette on her way to the bedroom, she spotted a plate and bowl in the drying rack by the sink. They were decorated with a stylish, modern pattern. She had selected them because they coordinated perfectly with the chocolate-brown tones of the cabinets. Marie had been so proud of that fact.
Maybe, though, she had been trying too hard. Maybe she had been afraid that Bobby would leave her if she wasn't the kind of girl who kept a perfect household. He liked things orderly and uncluttered. She used to think that she did too, but maybe that had never been her.
The place barely looked lived in. Sure, it could have appeared in a magazine, but it lacked the warmth and personal touches of a home, like a knitted blanket folded over the back of a chair, or a random deck of cards on the end table.
Even the bedroom felt impersonal, save for two bookshelves, one for each occupant, that held clusters of photos and mementos artfully interspersed with the books. Marie went to set her carry-on bag down on the bed, and then paused. One bed. One bed, which she shared with Bobby. She hadn't given any thought to it before, about what returning to New York would mean. But everything was so clear in that moment.
If she had been in love with him, it wouldn't have bothered her. She wouldn't have even noticed. But the thought of sharing the bed with Bobby, pretending like everything was the same as it had been before she left, just seemed...wrong.
Even before she had left, things with Bobby hadn't been great. She couldn't even remember the last time they'd had sex, and the fact that neither of them had seemingly noticed or felt like it was worth mentioning was telling. All those red flags that Marie had ignored, and comparisons to her relationship with Remy that she had brushed off...
It had been so easy before, because of how much she had wanted to forget, to believe that she was looking back on the past with rose-colored glasses. She could tell herself that adult relationships weren't as intense and didn't feel the same as teenage love. She could pretend that she had everything she needed.
But in a single week, Remy had made her realize a lot of things, and she was grateful for that. If she had never gone back to Mississippi, she might not have remembered what an equal relationship felt like. She might not have realized what a colossal mistake she had been prepared to make by getting married for no good reason at all.
Marie left the apartment and took her luggage one floor up, to Logan's. She knocked on his door, unsure if he was home yet. There was no answer, but that didn't matter. A few years ago he had given her a key for "emergencies or whatever", and she had to wonder if he had known that a day like this would come.
She left her bags just inside his door, dropped her keys on the coffee table, and sat on the couch. The keychain that she'd carried for years, 'for luck', stared back at her. Remy's keychain—the only physical connection she'd had to him for so many years. He had always been with her, she just hadn't acknowledged it.
It was impossible to ignore now.
Marie took the ashes out of her purse, and set them next to the keys. It would have felt wrong to have the box on display in the room she shared with Bobby. And hiding him was no way to honor his memory. She would have been no better than her parents.
Logan got in a couple hours later. In typical Logan fashion, he took one look at her reading a book on his couch, and seemed to understand what that meant. "How did Popsicle take it?"
She set the book on her lap. "He wasn't home when I got in." She didn't think he was going to be crushed, though. He had made marriage sound like an item on a checklist. That wasn't love. Or at least it wasn't the breath-taking, I-can't-live-without-you type of love that she wanted.
Logan sat down next to her. "So, are you up here hiding, or are you waiting?"
It was probably a little of both. "I couldn't stay in that room. It just didn't feel right."
His gaze landed on the ashes.
"My son," she said.
"And you never told—?"
"No." She hadn't told anyone apart from Logan. Though Jean had figured it out, and if it was in her medical file then that probably meant Hank also knew. "It's messed up, I know, but Bobby was nice, and he liked me, and I didn't want to lose that. Everyone else kept their distance because of my skin. I thought that a relationship with him was the best I'd ever get, and I was scared that if I didn't fit into his perfect image that he'd dump me."
"What changed?"
Logan knew exactly what had changed, but he wanted to hear her admit it. Maybe it would help if she did.
Marie could feel her eyes fill with tears again. "You know that thing you said about not wanting Bobby there when I needed someone the most?"
He nodded.
"I figured out who I do want by my side."
"The Cajun didn't want to come back with you?"
She shook her head, freeing several of the tears that had accumulated. "He's got a life in New Orleans, like I've got one up here. But I miss him, and now I have this hole in my chest where he used to be. And it's only been a few hours. What am I going to do for the rest of my life?"
Logan put his arm around her. "Jesus, now you're gonna make me cry."
The idea of Logan being a sympathetic crier made her laugh. Then she let out a noise of frustration and angrily swiped the tears off her face. "I hate this."
He patted her shoulder. "I know you do. But I also know that you're going to get through this and come out better on the other side."
It felt different though. Like a wound that would never heal. Too bad Logan's powers couldn't fix a broken heart.
"Do you want to go out for that drink I owe you?" he asked.
"And a burger?"
He nodded. "I might even let you persuade me to play a round or two of pool."
Staying out late, drinking and playing pool sounded amazing. Anything to get her mind off Remy and to avoid talking to Bobby.
"One more thing," she said. "I want back on the team."
"It's about damn time."
