"He asked her to dance. She told him she didn't dance for men in suits." I adjusted the flower stem. "So he took off his jacket,rolled up his sleeves, and said, 'How about now?' She laughed and said yes."
"Why didn't they stay together?"
I shrugged. “Your father wasn’t looking for something permanent at the time. He was building Lucky Losers. She wanted a normal life. Not one lived in shadows." I hesitated. "When she found out she was pregnant, she tried to tell him. Letters. Phone calls. Emails. I intercepted them all."
"And when he finally found out we existed, you watched him search. You watched him offer bounties. Hire investigators. And you said nothing."
"Yes."
"Our entire lives, Maxime. Until we were adults." Xander's fingers curled into fists. "You didn't just steal our childhood. You stole everything."
"Yes." I didn't offer excuses because none were adequate.
"Did you ever regret it? Before he found out what you did?"
I nodded. "Every day. But not enough to confess. Not enough to risk losing him."
Xander stooped to retrieve the rest of their wildflowers. With trembling hands, they placed what remained next to my lilies.
"I only get to visit twice a year." He was quiet now, anger momentarily replaced by something more painful. "Xavier never comes. And Xion... Xion won't even acknowledge he has a father, let alone a dead mother in a cemetery he refuses to visit."
"He's built his own life. Far from all of this."
"He's hiding." Xander's voice hardened. "Same as he's always done. Can't blame him. Some of us fight. Some of us run." They fixed their eyes on the grave. "Xion runs. And you've been here every month while all three of us have been trying to figure out how to mourn a woman we never knew."
They rose to their feet, exhausted beyond their years with a brittle smile. "So, not only are you fucking my father, but you'vebeen visiting my mother's grave for decades while keeping us from knowing her." He let out a short, harsh laugh. "And now I've seen photos of you two that have scarred me for life. I think I deserve hazard pay."
"What?" Blood from my split lip.
"A raise,” he said flatly. "If I have to look at X-rated photos of you on your knees for my dad, I deserve compensation. Consider it emotional damages."
“What photos?”
He rolled his eyes. “Did you think we weren’t monitoring your communications, Maxime? I saw what that anonymous sender sent you this morning. Don’t worry. I’m trying to forget it, so I definitely won’t be playing show and tell with it.”
I stared at them. "You want money?"
"Among other things." They wiped their face, smearing their makeup further. "I want to come with you." Xander gestured to the grave. "Every month. I want to come with you when you visit her."
The request hit harder than any of their punches. "Why would you want that?"
"She's my mother." Their voice cracked slightly before hardening. "You've had twenty-three years of mourning her. I've had scraps. You don't get to keep this too."
I searched their face. Their eyes narrowed slightly, jaw tightening.
This wasn't about the grave. This was Xander ensuring I couldn't escape what I'd done. Every month, we'd stand here together, my crime between us, impossible to forget.
"It would be uncomfortable," I said carefully.
"Good. That's the point."
I nodded slowly. "I visit on the fifteenth of each month, mid-morning, when the cemetery's quiet."
"I'll meet you here. Don't try to change the schedule." Their eyes narrowed. "I'll find out."
"I wouldn't."
"And about that raise..."
