Sabine cracked a smile, folding up a paper towel to tuck beside Ade’s sandwich. “Nobody is coming over there for a diaper.”
“Well maybe they should. This man really sat on my couch last night and said, ‘two kids in and you still don’t get it.’ What the hell does that even mean?”
Sabine laughed softly under her breath and moved to double-check the lunch bag. Ade, sitting at the table in his rocket ship pajamas, swung his legs while spooning cereal into his mouth, spilling more milk onto the placemat than anything.
“Mommy,” he said, through a mouthful, “I want the cookie with the stars for snack.” Her son was obsessed with robots, and cars, and aliens and space.
“You’ll get two star cookies in your lunchbox if you finish that cereal,” she said, wiping his chin. “Eat the banana too.”
In her ear, Narri sighed. “You know I don’t even like that man, right? I hate him. I’m serious this time.”
“Did you ever stop to think maybe you and Tate are just…incompatible roommates with benefits?”
“I’m fine with being incompatible. Shit, I’m ready for him to realize but his ass won’t leave!”
“Do you want him to?” Sabine asked and she could instantly hear the pause from her best friend. She and Tate had been together, or messing around, or whatever they called it depending on the day, about as long as she and Adair.
They shared two children, a son who was three, Tate Junior whom everyone called TJ, and the most beautiful baby girl, Nariyah, at two. Back-to-back births and in between lots of fighting—back and forth, breakups to makeups.
Everyone around Narri and Tate were over them.
In her ear, Narri sighed then in true fashion when it came to her baby’s daddy—deflection. “I’m serious this time.”
“You always serious ‘til he show up being daddy of the year and chicken wings,” Sabine said, walking to the sink. Tate was a good father, but he went over the top whenever he could feel Narri pulling away.
A pause.
“…They were lemon pepper,” Narri admitted.
“I know.” Sabine smiled, tossing a wrapper in the trash. “I know you.”
Ade lifted his bowl with both hands. “All gone! Can I call Daddy now?”
Sabine nodded, already pulling up Adair’s contact on Ade’s iPad. As soon as it rang, he snatched the device and ran to his room with the biggest smile.
“Hey Daddy!”
Ade’s little voice echoed from down the hall, followed by a muffled “You brush your teeth?” and “Lemme see.”
Even on his off week, Adair didn’t miss a morning. Didn’t let the physical distance cut the thread between them. Sometimes Sabine hated that. Not the bond—just the reminder of what she and Adair hadalmostkept whole.
Narri sighed on the other end of the line. “That man loves that baby like my fat ass love some all flats, lemon pepper, spicy.”
Sabine sat down, finally taking a sip of her own cold coffee. “Yeah…he really does.”
“You okay?”
“I’m good,” she said quickly. “Just…trying to stay on schedule.”
But her eyes drifted toward Ade’s empty chair, to the soft hum of his voice in the back room. And she wondered—for just a second—if Adair ever felt it too. That quiet ache that came when one half of the house was missing.
“Alright, let me go,” Narri said, her voice stretching into a yawn. “I know Junior is about to get up and work my nerves.”
“Tate didn’t stay the night?”
“He was gone when I woke up.”
“Oh okay…well, call me later.”