Adair stepped up doing their signature handshake that always made Ade feel like he was one of the big boys. “Love you man,” he kissed the top of his head.
“Love you too daddy!”
“See ya baby,” Pam kissed Sabine’s cheek. “Text me to let me know y’all made it home.”
“I will,” she responded before grabbing Ade’s hand and going down the stairs.
While his mother went inside, Adair stayed there like she knew he would make sure his son and baby mother were safely in the car. He stood on the porch, watching Sabine buckle Ade into the car seat, adjusting the strap like only she could. Like it was second nature. Like loving him came just as easy.
Adair never stopped thinking of her that way, no matter what the paperwork said. No matter who laid beside him now, or who laid beside her. That woman was still his in all the ways that mattered. And seeing her like this—so calm, so good, still wearing motherhood like a crown—just made it worse. Made the acheache.
Ade turned in his seat, flashing him a toothy grin and waving with both hands. That boy. That boy was his whole damn heart walking around outside his body.
Sabine? She was the part he’d fumbled. Fumbled so bad he didn’t know if he could ever get her back. But damn if he didn’t still hope. Still wait on porches, still look for openings in the silence.
Adair stepped down one stair, just to see them off. Just to breathe in one more second of the only thing he’d ever built that felt like home.
Sabine could feel him. She didn’t have to look back to know Adair was still on the porch, arms crossed or maybe hands stuffed in his pockets, watching her with that same quiet ache he never said out loud. She could feel it. Like the air thickened every time he was near.
She buckled Ade in gently, smoothing his curls off his forehead. Checked the straps twice, like she always did. Routine. Habit. But beneath that, her hands trembled a little.
Because it still mattered. He still mattered.
And maybe that’s what hurt the most—how deeply it still lived under her skin.
“Can we get ice cream too?” Ade piped up from the backseat, kicking his legs, too excited to notice the shift in her breath. “I was really good this week. Daddy said so.”
Sabine smiled, even as her eyes stung. “Mmmmm…” she pretended to think.
“Mommy…” Ade whined.
“Okay okay.”
“Yayyyyy!”
Sabine slid into the driver’s seat and let her hand linger on the push to start button. She didn’t look back. Not right away. But in the rearview mirror, just past the curve of her own shoulder, there he was.
Adair. Still there. Still watching.
Same man who once rubbed her back through finals week. Who whispered every dream in her ear before it ever came true. Who kissed her like he believed in forever. She hated that she missed him. Hated that some days she waited for those 2 a.m. texts she swore she wouldn’t read. Hated that no matter how careful she was, a part of her heart still turned toward him.
He didn’t move. Neither did she, for a second.
"Be safe," he called.
Sabine didn’t turn. Just raised her hand halfway out the window. Ade was already yelling about what ice cream flavors he wanted.
Sabine pressed her foot to the pedal and drove off slow. Not because of him but maybe, a little, because of him.
In the mirror, she saw him shrink into distance.
Still standing there. Still watching.
Still hers in all the ways he never figured out how to keep.
Sabine stood at the island, slipping a juice box into Ade’s lunch bag while her AirPods buzzed with Narri’s voice mid-rant.
“I swear to God, Sabine, if Tate leaves one more diaper on the counter, I’m calling CPS.”