“Even if he had chosen you,” Sabine said, voice cool and flat, “it would’ve rotted in your hands. Because things built on betrayal don’t bloom, they decay.Fast.” She let the pause hang just long enough before adding, quieter but deadly: “fast as that rank pussy you thought could keep him.”
Corrine’s face twitched.
“I didn’t even blame you for his fuck-ups because at the end of the day, he owedmeloyalty, not some desperate-ass bitch who can’t find a man of her own.” Sabine tilted her head. “But walking intomyspace thinking you could nice-nasty me with your half-ass congratulations? Baby, no.” Her voice dropped lower…firmer. “Don’t let this office, this suit, or thismillion-dollar company I’ve built fool you, hoe. If I wasn’t pregnant, I’d beat the brakes off your ignorant, no-class-having ass.” She stepped closer, heat rising. “Now get the fuck away from my office before I forget myverybright future and slide your raggedy ass across this floor, bitch.”
In the deepest part of her soul, Sabine wanted to strangle her. Just for a second. Just enough to feel Corrine’s smug little smirk disappear beneath her fingers. But that wasn’t who she was. It had never been and it would only become who she was if Corrine ever gave her a reason that crossed the line she couldn’t uncross. Right now? Nothing—nothing—was worth risking her future. Not her peace. Not her company and damn sure not her unborn child. Corrine wasn’t a threat. She was pitiful. She evenlookedpitiful—trying to posture with her tablet and tight-ass dress, hoping her fake grace would mask the emptiness underneath. Sabine had never been in a fight in her life, and while she was sure she could take her, she wasn’t about to waste her first time on obvious misery looking for company.
Corrine’s lips parted like she had something smart to say but she never got the chance because Narri was already walking up. “Please understand,” she said, voice calm but venom-laced, “thatshe’spregnant and gives a fuck.” She took one slow step even closer. “I don’t, hoe. So give me a muthafuckin’ reason. I promise I will guard my baby and destroy your ass at the same time.”
Corrine’s face paled just enough to satisfy something deep in Sabine’s chest, but she reached out anyway, hand on her best friend’s forearm.
Narri looked at her, nostrils flared, then back up at Corrine. “You lucky,” she muttered, shrugging off the tension like it cost too much energy. “But I’m not the one to test when it comes to this one right here,” she pointed to Sabine. “Ever.”
Corrine’s jaw locked, but she said nothing as she backed away—slow and cautious. She didn’t even have the nerve to turn her back, not until she was at a safe distance because even she could see it now. Sabine wasn’t bluffing. She was glowing, powerful, pregnant and completely done playing. Corrine might’ve thought herself bold, but she wasn’t stupid and a woman willing to throw hands while carrying a child? That was past crazy, and she knew she couldn’t battle win that.
Turning to Sabine, Narri narrowed her eyes, arms already crossing tight over her chest. “You gon’ tell that raggedy heifer you pregnant before yourown best friend, hoe?”
“I was gonna tell you tonight, swearsies.” Sabine gave her a small guilty smile playing at her lips.
“Mhm.” Narri rolled her eyes with attitude, but her excitement couldn’t hold still. She bounced on her toes like she couldn’t keep the joy in, then squealed and rushed forward. “Congratulations!” She grabbed Sabine’s face and peppered kisses all over her cheeks then landed one smack dab on the lips.
“Alright now wit the gay shit,” Adair called from the doorway, stepping in just in time to peel them apart before it could turn French. “We not doin’ all that.”
Sabine laughed as Narri pulled back, giggling and unbothered. “Boy, please. You already know what it is with me and this one. I had her before you was even in the picture.”
“Exactly why I’m shutting it down,” he muttered, shooting Narri a look. “Y’all not about to reactivate anything while you emotional and she hormonal.”
“Whatever, hater.” Narri blew him a kiss. “I’m her first love.”
Adair didn’t even argue. Instead, he looked over at Sabine, really looked at her. The glow in her cheeks, the shine in her eyes, the way her laughter lived back in her now. Damn, he loved her. Still. Always. He leaned in, cupped the side of her face, and pressed a soft, sure kiss to her lips, unbothered by Narri standing right there.
Then, against her mouth, he said low, “Well, I’m her last.”
“Ugh,” Narri groaned dramatically. “I’m leavin’.”
Sabine grinned against his lips and whispered, “You better be.”
OVER THE RAINBOW(S)
The door clicked shut behind him with a soft snick. Adair leaned back against it for just a second, eyes closed, breath catching in his chest before he could stop it. He wasn’t crying, not the kind that hurt but tears still slipped, slow and warm, down both cheeks as he smiled. He wiped at his face with the back of his hand, then turned toward the waiting room.
They were all there.
Pam pacing, Aunt Terry on her second cup of vending machine coffee mixed with whatever she kept in her purse. Narri sitting but bouncing her knee like she was about to combust while Tate rubbed her back.
When they saw him, everything stilled. He stepped forward slowly. Swallowed once and smiled.
“They’re here,” he said, voice thick with emotion. “They’re here.” Adair laughed through another tear, shaking his head. “Two girls,” he said finally. “Two beautiful baby girls.”
It had come as a shock to everyone when they found out they wouldn’t just be blessed with another baby but two. Twins. Sabine had carried them to thirty-four weeks before going into sudden labor on a cloudy Thursday afternoon while at the new offices of Aderra. And somehow—against every worry, every fear—they arrived safely through vaginal delivery. No complications. Each barely three pounds, but strong. Breathing on their own. The doctor assured them both girls were perfectly healthy, just small which was normal for multiples. They just needed time to grow. To fill out but they were whole. And beautiful. And theirs.
The room erupted.
Narri hollered. Aunt Terry slapped Reeka’s shoulder, and she jumped out of her sleep. Pam sat down fast like her knees gave out, then just started praising God.
They hadn’t known the genders—not even them. Sabine had insisted they keep it a surprise. So, when the doctor said, “girl”—once. Then again. It hit them all at the same time—double the joy, double the awe.
Adair knew exactly what his family was feeling in that moment. That moment cracked everyone wide open. Not just because the babies were healthy, but because the universe had doubled down on blessing them.