“For what? A few hours?”
“No, a few weeks,” he replies. “We were separated, living apart, and I honestly didn’t know if we would ever get back together. I thought we were headed for divorce.”
“Wow,” I mutter in surprise. “You must have royally fucked up.”
“Oh, I did.”
“When?” I ask. “I don’t remember you not living at home.”
“You probably wouldn’t. You were only three or four years old,” he explains. “She was pissed at me, rightfully so, but I didn’t give up. We loved each other and just needed time to remember that. And thank god, because that was all when Page was pregnant with Macy. I had no idea. After that it was nothing but good times. In fact, we just celebrated our twenty-ninth anniversary.”
“Hold on. I turned twenty-eight in March, which is less than nine months apart, Dad.”
“No shit?” my father asks with his brow furrowed. “It must have been thirty years then. And you were born a month early…”
“No, you wouldn’t fuck up your anniversary, and I wasn’t premature. You knocked up mom before you were married, didn’t you?”
“That wasn’t it at all,” he says. “We just didn’t know she was already pregnant when we said our vows. But we weren’t all that surprised when she found out since I could’ve just as easily knocked her up at the jail the night we got married.”
“You were in jail?” I exclaim.
My dad glances down at the invisible watch on his wrist. “Ah, look at the time. I have to get going. Got a training appointment at seven. Would’ve cancelled if you had told us you were coming,” he grumbles. Reaching for the car door handle, he says, “Good seeing you, X-Man. Your mother’s inside the house. She’ll be happy you’re home.”
“Okay, yeah. See ya, Dad,” I tell him.
“We’ll catch up later?” he asks.
“Sure,” I agree as he gets in the car and I walk up and open the front door. “Mom?” I call out.
“Xavier!” she yells back from inside of her office, if I had to guess. I start that way, and she comes out a second later with her blonde hair pulled up in a messy bun, wearing yoga pants and an oversized Havoc tee. We meet in the hallway for a hug.
“Oh, we’ve missed you so much!” she says. “So you decided to come home for the reunion after all?”
“Yeah, I got in yesterday,” I reply.
“Where are you staying? Is Camilla with you?” she asks.
“Ah, no, she’s not. And I’m staying with Cassidy in her new house.”
“Xavier Jackson Malone,” my mother scolds me with a slap to my chest. “Do you really think staying overnight with a woman without your wife is a good idea?”
“Cass and I are just friends,” I remind her. “And Camilla and I…we aren’t together anymore.”
“What? Why not?” she asks with her face pinched.
“We’re getting divorced.”
“Oh no. When did this happen?” she asks.
“A few months ago.”
“Months ago?” my mom shouts. Grabbing my arm, she slips past me down the hall, pulling me behind her. “Come sit down and start from the beginning.”
We get to the kitchen and each take a seat at the dining table.
“Why didn’t you tell us what was going on, Xavier?”
“Because I didn’t really want to talk about it,” I explain. Twisting the wedding band around on my finger, I tell her, “There’s nothing to say. It’s over.”
“Honey, if it’s over, then why are you still wearing your ring?” she asks.
“I don’t know,” I admit with a heavy sigh. “Because then it will mean we’re really done, and I’m not sure if I’m there yet.”
“What happened?”
“I’m still not ready to talk about it,” I tell her. “And don’t bother with the whole marriage is a serious lifetime commitment spiel you don’t just quit and walk away from. Dad’s already given it to me.”
“Oh, you got to see him before he left? I’m so glad!”
“Why didn’t you two ever tell me he went to jail? Or that you got knocked up with me before you were married?” I ask to try and change the subject off of my failed marriage. I was born with my father’s competitive streak, so I hate failing at anything, especially this.
Judging by my mother’s bulging blue eyes, that blast from the past definitely did the trick with helping turn the tables back to her.
“Holy crap! He told you about all of that?” she asks.
“Yep. Just not the details. You’ll give me those, won’t you?”
She thinks it over while redoing her bun before finally saying, “Screw it! It’s his own fault for bringing it up. And nothing you can’t do an internet search for and find out.”
“Good, let’s hear it,” I say, slouching down in my chair to get comfortable.
“Your father and I met because, when he was your age, he got arrested.”
“For what?” I ask.
She cringes before finally saying, “Assault and, ah, rape.”
“What?” I exclaim, sitting up straighter in my seat.
“He didn’t do either, of course,” she hurries to explain. “But he was a famous, wealthy fighter, and a woman thought he would be an easy target to hit with violent charges. And somehow, thanks to my father, I ended up being his attorney as a PR stunt before finally taking the whole thing over.”
“Did the case go to trial?”
“Yep.”
“So you obviously won,” I say.
“Not exactly. We lost, but only because my jealous, idiotic ex was out to screw your dad over, so he paid off a juror. Not that we knew it at the time…”
“Jesus,” I mutter, unable to imagine my claustrophobic father in a tiny, concrete cell.
“He spent a few weeks in prison before your uncles and a private investigator helped us figure it.”
“And you married dad when he was in jail?” I ask.
“I had…messed up after he was sentenced and blurted out that I had committed an ethical violation that would have taken my law license if not for your Uncle Logan’s idea that Jax and I get married so he wouldn’t
