“Yeah.”
“Hmmm…” she tapped her chin, eyes gleaming. “Why?”
“Why?” he repeated, pretending to be just as flustered as he’d been back then. Sabine tilted her head, waiting. Adair stepped closer. Their bodies didn’t touch, but it felt like they did.
“Because I need to keep in contact with my wife.”
Sabine laughed—real and hard. “Your wife?!”
“That’s what I said.” He pulled out his phone and held it up like he had no shame in his game. “Don’t leave your husband hanging,” he added.
Sabine tucked her lips, trying to hold the emotion back but her fingers were already reaching for the phone and instead of entering a contact he already had, she went to his notes app, typed something out.
She handed it back and asked, “Is that all, dear husband?”
“For now…”
She made a move to walk away again, but he gently caught her one more time.
“Where you goin’?”
“Back to my crybaby ass friend,” Sabine joked, and they both looked over at Narri cursing Tate out and they hollered, breaking character for a second.
Clearing his throat, Adair asked, “can I have a hug?”
Sabine froze—just like before. Her lips parted but no sound came out. Then she stepped onto her toes, slowly, arms circling his neck as if they’d never forgotten how. His arms wrapped around her waist. Tight. Familiar.
I knew it, Adair thought.
Still her.
Still them.
But this time, he wouldn’t take that hug for granted. Not a single second of it.
I knew it, Sabine thought.
Still him.
Still them.
But this time, she wasn’t hugging a fantasy. She wasn’t pretending the past hadn’t happened.
This was real. This was earned.
And for the first time in a long time?—
She let herself hold him like she remembered.
And be held like she deserved.
Because maybe—just maybe—this wasn’t the end of their story. Maybe it was the beginning of a new chapter they hadn’t dared to write yet.
SABINE
Sabine barely got the key in the lock and Adair was on her before the door even clicked shut. They stumbled inside like they couldn’t breathe air unless they were breathing it into each other’s mouths. Clothes already being ripped, yanked, peeled off in pieces. His hand was at the small of her back, guiding her, pressing her, commanding her body to remember what it already did. She kicked the door shut blindly behind them; mouth still tangled with his.
“You knew what you were doing tonight,” she gasped between kisses, breath ragged, her lips already swollen.