Not just the tremble.
But the tears.
Warm and sudden, sliding down the curve of her spine.
“Adair…” she whispered, but he couldn’t speak. She shifted, slowly, carefully, crawling from beneath him even as he tried to hold on. Still, Sabine turned, got on her knees, and reached for him instead.
Held him.
Chest to chest. Skin to skin.
Adair’s arms wrapped around her back, crushing her to him so hard it nearly knocked the wind out of her but she didn’t try to pull away.
Sabine let him sob into her breasts like a child—like a man—like someone who finally stopped pretending he was fine. His face was buried between them, voice shaking as he cried against her heartbeat.
“I’m so fuckin’ sorry, baby,” he choked out, voice hoarse and wrecked. “I’m so fuckin’ sorry for everything. For the lies. For not bein’ who I was supposed to be. For makin’ you carry it alone. For…for her?—”
She cupped the back of his head, kissing his forehead, fingers slipping into his soft hair. “Shhh…”
But he couldn’t stop. He wept like grief had been lodged in his chest for years and only now found the courage to escape.
“You didn’t deserve it,” he cried. “I don’t deserve this. You. This moment…and you’re still here—fuck, you’re still here.”
Sabine closed her eyes. Let him hold her like he was breaking, like she was the only thing holding him together.
Because maybe she was.
Maybe they both were.
The silence that followed wasn’t quiet.
It was sacred.
His tears. Her breath.Theirpulse.
“I hate what you did to me,” she whispered finally, voice tender but true. “But I hate what I did to us, too…I hate what we did to each other and what it cost us.”
Adair nodded against her chest. No defense. No excuses. Just the weight of her words being absorbed. And together—naked, trembling, undone—they stayed right there.
No longer making love.
Just holding on.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY AUNT TERRY
The smell of fried fish, charcoal smoke, and the secret baked mac and cheese filled the air as the Dayne family gathered in Pam’s backyard for Aunt Terry’s birthday. Folding chairs were scattered in uneven rows under a tarp-covered canopy, Beyoncé’sBefore I Let Goplayed loudly from the speakers having people line dancing.
The party had been going for about an hour when the house door creaked open again and out stepped Sabine.
With Adair.
And Ade between them, holding both their hands.
Conversations didn’t stop, not completely but the shift wasimmediate. One of the cousins tilted their sunglasses down. A group of messy aunties playing spades gave each other that look, likehm. Even the speaker skipped.
“They cametogether?” Pam muttered under her breath from the grill, tongs paused mid-flip. Reeka, already perched on the patio steps in a matching two-piece set and high bun, clocked it and smirked.
Sabine felt the tension adjusting the strap of her sundress and gave Ade’s little hand a gentle squeeze. He was busyscanning the party for his cousins, juice, cake and didn’t notice a thing.