Make sure nobody—nobody—messed this up.
Adair gave the last page one more glance before sliding it into a leather folder, then into his briefcase. There was still time to grab her favorite drink she always loved while pregnant with Ade, from the spot down the street before the meeting started.
Minutes later, Adair stepped into the parking garage, the clack of his dress shoes echoing off concrete walls. His keys twirled once around his finger before he hit unlock, headlights flashing.
Corrine was already there. She stood a few rows down, near her car, pretending to organize something in the passenger seat. She wasn’t fumbling or rushing, though. Just lingering, like she was waiting for a moment to catch his eye. Her body angled just enough that if he looked her way, it’d be impossible to ignore her.
But he didn’t.
He didn’t glance once in her direction.
Just popped the trunk of his Audi, placed his briefcase in neatly, and shut it with a thud. She still thought he’d fold. That eventually, he’d slip back into proximity, into old rhythms, into moments he couldn’t even remember fondly. Corrine actedlike his silence was unfinished business instead of a door he’d slammed and locked twice.
She’d been a bad decision made in a storm. A self-inflicted wound dressed up in ambition and availability. And the second he saw clearly—reallyclearly—he’d known. Sabine was the story. Always had been. Always would be.
So no, there wouldn’t be a shared car ride.
Not even an elevator ride if he could help it.
Adair slid into the driver’s seat, letting the leather hug him like it always did. He took one deep breath, then another, forcing the tension to roll off his shoulders like sweat. She didn’t matter. Not today.
Today, he had a woman to show up for. A future to anchor. A contract to help solidify.
First stop: her drink.He hit the usual café two blocks from her office. The fact that they remembered after such a long time said a lot about this place and why they loved it so much.
This wasn’t just a sweet gesture.
It was consistency.
It wasI know you.
I remember what matters.
You are not alone in any of this.
He glanced at the time. Plenty of cushion before the signing. Sabine would already be there, probably checking the conference room setup, reviewing the deck one last time, making sure no one dropped the ball. She was always thorough like that.
Aderra was her baby. Her vision. Her whole damn revolution wrapped in tech and community innovation. And he got to be the one who helped protect it—legally, contractually,personally.
Adair pulled into her company’s private lot and parked in one of the reserved executive spaces. He grabbed the drink and checked the lid for her name then stepped out into the crisp air.
With every step toward the building, he felt it in his chest.
He wasn’t just reclaiming love.
He was reclaimingeverything.
And he wasn’t about to fumble this time.
SABINE
Sabine stood near the head of the conference table, arms crossed loosely, eyes scanning the space for the third time in ten minutes. Her laptop was connected to the monitor, slides queued up and ready. The contracts were printed and stacked, tabs color-coded, pens arranged in a fan-like pattern beside them. Everything was in place.
But she kept double-checking anyway. She adjusted the angle of the notepads. Smoothed down the table runner—again. Moved the pitcher an inch to the left.
Her body was still, but her mind? Racing.
Not with panic.