“Why were you trying to cook, Adair?” she asked. “You know you can’t cook.”
“I...I wanted us to have a nice dinner,” he said, voice soft. “And talk. I was gonna tell you how much I love you...and that I want to be married. I know I fucked up movin’ like I ain’t have you and my baby at home. But I see it now. And I won’t ever take you for granted again.” He paused before continuing. “I was gonna tell you you’re the best thing that ever happened to me. And I don’t wanna be nowhere that don’t got you in it.”
Sabine stared at him.
Then suddenly—soft step, two steps more—she crossed the kitchen and walked straight into his chest. Stood on her toes and kissed him hard, like she’d been holding it in for days. Like her lips had been waiting on his apology to finally unlock.
Adair’s hands found her waist, right beneath the curve of her belly and he held her like something holy. Pam watched from the stove, arms folded tight.
“Mhm,” she muttered, turning away. “Let it be a next time, and I’ma fuck you up for her.”
SEPTEMBER 3, 2011
Adair and Sabine had been in marital bliss once again since he slipped up. He promised it was the first and last time—which he’d proven. No late nights. No missed calls. No dumb lies. He was back in her pocket, where he belonged.
They were set to leave for New York next week, so today they were heading to their last prenatal appointment there, at home.
“You nervous?” Adair asked, eyes on the road.
“No,” Sabine said, quick. Then, “Maybe.”
He smirked. “Thought you was the calm one.”
“I am calm. I just…I don’t like hospitals. Or doctors. Or needles. And I don’t prefer people touching me unless I know they are clean.”
Adair laughed. “They clean, Bine.”
“Not all of them.”
He reached over, rubbed her thigh gently with the back of his hand. “You gon’ be alright.”
Sabine didn’t say anything to that, but she laid her hand on top of his, and that was more than enough to bring her comfort.
At the office, everything moved slow. They were ten minutes early but still waited thirty-five. Sabine filled out the paperwork like she always did—neat handwriting. Adair signed the bottom line of something without reading it. He just knew she’d look it over twice already.
When they were finally called in, Sabine sat on the exam table, shirt lifted, paper drape crinkling beneath her, and Adair pulled the chair close like he always did.
The doppler gel made her jump.
“Let’s see what this little one’s up to,” the tech stated, excited for the new parents. She loved doing ultrasounds, especially for first-time parents.
It took a second but then came the sound—steady and strong.
Whump. Whump. Whump. Whump.
Adair looked at the monitor like he could see through it. Like the sound itself was telling him something only he could hear.
“That’s your baby’s heartbeat,” the tech smiled. “Nice and strong.
Sabine didn’t move. Could barely breathe.
And Adair…he was looking at her.
Like it washerheartbeat he was hearing. This never got old. He couldn’t believe that sound was what their love created.
Whump. Whump. Whump. Whump.
“Damn,” he whispered. “That’susin there.”