“No. You do it,” Sabine nudged him.
“Baby, you should?—”
“Y’all asses do it together!” Terri shouted, handing them the knife. “Workin’ my damn nerves,” she fussed making them laugh. “All that lovey bird shat!”
Adair grabbed the knife and Sabine placed her hand atop his nervously. Slowly it slid down inside through the buttercream icing and into the soft center. Pulling it out carefully, almost flinchingly. Then?—”
Blue.
Someone screamed.
Reeka yelled “I knew it!” like money was on the line.
Tate started doing some dumb little dance, happy he was getting a godson, that ended with him almost knocking the cake off the table.
Pam was hugging them both before she proudly went around showing off a slice of cake to all the older relatives who weren’t able to move around as much. She was getting a grandson.
In the middle of all that chaos, Sabine cried. Not loud. Not ugly. Just tears sliding down as she held onto Adair, her forehead pressed to his chest.
“Hey,” he whispered, wiping her cheek with his thumb. “You okay?”
She nodded, still crying. “He has a good daddy.”
Adair’s throat tightened. “And he got the best mama.”
Sabine looked around again. At these loud, beautiful, messy people who weren’t hers by blood—but were hers in every way that counted.
She didn’t regret a thing.
Later that night…
Sabine stood in the mirror of their bedroom, still in the white dress she’d worn all day, fingers trailing over the soft rise of her belly.
“A boy,” she whispered.
Adair came up behind her, hands slipping around her waist, palms wide and warm against the fabric. He rested his chin on her shoulder, and they looked at their reflection together—him shirtless, her glowing, his lips brushed the curve of her neck.
“You givin’ me a son,” he said softly, like he couldn’t believe it was real.
Sabine turned in his arms, her face already breaking into a smile before she even looked up at him. “We gave each other one.”
“Nah,” he whispered, guiding her backward toward the bed. “You did this. You carryin’ him, protectin’ him. Doin’ all the hard work…while I was out there movin’ stupid.” His voice cracked a little. “But I’m here now and that shit won’t ever happen again baby.”
Sabine didn’t speak. Just pulled him down with her, mouths finding each other in that slow, familiar way. No rush. No noise. Just breath and touch and the gentle weight of his body settling between her legs like he was home.
Adair peeled her dress over her head with care, revealing the delicate lace of her bra, her warm skin, the small swell that held their future. He kissed every inch of her belly before he even touched her thighs.
Sabine cupped his face, tears pooling in her eyes. “I love you, Adair.”
Adair answered with his mouth, first on her ribs, then her breasts, then her lips again. Every movement was soft. Worshipful. Like he was scared to break her.
When he finally entered her, slow and deep, Sabine gasped into his mouth. Adair gripped the headboard behind her, keeping his weight off her body, careful not to press too hard. But the rhythm between them was steady. Deep. Intimate.
“I got you,” he whispered into her ear. “You don’t gotta do nothin’. Just let me love you.”
And she did. She let go. Let herself fall into the feeling. Into him.
Their bodies rocked in sync with the fan spinning above them, the room full of heat. She held onto his back, nails gentle, heart open. He kissed her through every moan, every shift in breath, like he needed to feel it all. Needed her to know.