After Remy dealt with the minor crisis that required two phone calls and his signature on three different forms, he went out front and sat down at the bar. It was hard to believe that it had only been twenty-four hours since he'd left New Orleans. It felt like he'd aged years.

He pulled his phone out and turned it back on—only because he wanted Marie to be able to contact him if needed. As expected, several new texts and missed calls appeared on the screen. He ignored them all, just as he had done earlier that afternoon, and shoved the phone back into his pocket.

Stella, who was at the register, glanced in his direction. "The usual?" she asked.

Remy nodded.

After closing the drawer, Stella grabbed a bottle of bourbon off the top shelf and then brought over a glass. She gave Remy a long, critical look after she had poured him a moderate amount. "Is this going to be a 'leave the bottle' kind of night?"

"It's feeling that way."

"Jesus, Thierry must have fucked up something pretty bad."

He didn't correct her, and she went back to work after setting the bottle down in front of him.

Monday nights were pretty quiet, and there were no games going, so he didn't have to worry about putting on his usual act, or monitoring the tables. There were just a handful of regulars at the bar, and a few tourists who had stopped in for a bite to eat and to soak in the general atmosphere.

Thankfully, that meant he could drink in peace.

"Mais gardez donc. You ain't dead after all."

Or not. His father's messenger boy had arrived.

Remy rolled his eyes, though his older brother couldn't see it. Without turning around, he asked, "Henri, what brings you to this fine establishment?"

Henri took the stool next to him and signaled for Stella to bring another glass. "Is this a 'fine' establishment? You'd never know by lookin' at it."

Remy motioned for Henri to get to the point.

Henri ignored him and poured himself a glass of the bourbon. "See, we thought you must be dead 'cause you missed the Guild meeting last night. And then you didn't pick up my calls, and when I called here to see if you were passed out in the office by any chance, Thierry said you'd run out of here like your ass was on fire." He took a long sip. "So you can see why we were concerned."

"I only passed out in the office and missed a meeting once," Remy replied.

"And would you like a medal for that?"

He gave his brother a hopeful smile. "Ooh, do you have one?"

Henri smacked the back of his head, and Remy took that to mean 'no'. "Are you gonna tell me what in the hell's going on? Where were you?"

Remy rubbed his now sore head. "With Marie."

Henri didn't bother to hide the shock on his normally placid face. "You wanna run that one by me again?"

"Why? Your ears quit workin'?"

"No, it's just I heard words that I never thought I'd hear coming out your mouth."

"That makes two of us." He was too tired to deal with Henri, but somehow, he didn't think he'd be able to get rid of him any time soon.

"She here?"

Remy shook his head. "In Meridian."

"And?"

"And I still love her." Remy knocked back the rest of the bourbon in his glass and poured himself another. What else was there to say?

"Was that ever in question?" Henri asked. "Anyone who knows you, knows you never got over her. You think we all just didn't notice the parade of women that you've been distracting yourself with?"

"It wasn't a 'parade'," he grumbled. There had been a few women over the years, but nothing serious. Mostly he just flirted with the customers as part of his image.

"Whatever it was, it wasn't healthy. But I'm guessing if you're here alone that means she didn't come back to pick up where you left off all them years ago."

If only. "Sam died last night. She came back 'cause she heard he was sick."

Henri paused. "Didn't you tell me that her folks didn't know where she was at?"

"You wanna hear something fucked up?" Remy asked. "They were the ones that cut her off. As soon as they found out she was a mutant they disowned her."

Henri let out a low whistle. "And what, her daddy had a change of heart on his deathbed?"

"Something like that."

There were a lot of things Remy disliked about being the Guild Patriarch's son. But Jean-Luc had taken him in, and given him a loving, accepting family when his biological parents had wanted nothing to do with a mutant child. For that, he would be eternally grateful.

"You think you'll see her again?" Henri asked.

"I'm going back for the funeral." Remy took a drink. "She's staying at the house."

"That's good, right? It means she doesn't hate you. So then why are you drinking like you've got plans to finish this bottle?"

She didn't hate him, but she wasn't in love with him anymore either. "She's engaged."

"Ahh, so she moved on," Henri said in a somber, understanding tone.

The ring seemed to indicate that she had, but if that was true, then why hadn't the fiancé come with her? And why had she ignored his phone call?

It probably didn't mean anything. There was almost certainly a rational explanation for all of it—like she hadn't wanted him to overhear the conversation, and the fiancé was planning to fly down later in the week. He was trying to find problems where there were none, all because he had gotten a reminder of what it was like to spend time with his wife and to hold her in his arms.

But Marie was his wife in name only, and she hadn't come back because she had missed him, no matter how desperately he wanted to believe otherwise.

"It looks that way."

Henri patted his back. "I'm really sorry, Rem. I know you'd been hoping that it was gonna turn out different. But maybe now—" He stopped, perhaps realizing that it was best not to complete that particular sentence.

Remy knew how it was supposed to end anyway. 'Now you can move on too.' But if Henri had said that out loud, Remy would've had to punch his brother right in his big, fat mouth.

"Maybe now you'll find an opportunity to talk to her about some things," he said instead.

"Way ahead of you."

And what a mixed bag of emotions that had been. Finding out that Marie didn't blame him, and hadn't been running from him, had taken a weight off. But then hearing the anguish in her voice when she'd insisted that it was all her fault, had crushed his soul back down again. He knew what that kind of guilt did to a person, and he never wanted that burden for her.

"Really?" Henri asked skeptically.

Remy swirled the glass on the bar and watched the dark amber liquid move. Henri didn't need to know all the details, but he had to give his brother something or else he wouldn't stop pushing. "We decided we're gonna name him. Give him a proper burial."

"Ça c'est bon. You need that closure."

Except that closure felt so...final.

"What about the house?" Henri asked.

"I'll probably sell it, unless she wants it." He doubted that she would though.

"Better than keeping it as some kind of monument that you feel you've gotta make a pilgrimage to each year, no?"

That wasn't what he had been doing, but he knew what Henri meant. "Can you put me in touch with whichever of the Guild lawyers handles divorces?" It was time he had papers drawn up. He didn't want to let her go, but if her heart belonged to another man, then he wasn't going to hold her back. He just wanted her to be happy.