Sabine turned toward the mirror and pulled her hair sloppily into a loose clip, letting a few curls fall along her cheekbones. She hadn’t worn real makeup in days but tonight called for effort.
Her phone buzzed on the counter. Narri.
“Girl, what you wearing?” was the first thing out her mouth.
Sabine laughed softly, pressing the phone between her cheek and shoulder while smoothing her brows. “I don’t know. I had a mini dress out but it felt like too much.”
“It ain’t never too much for Reeka’s ass,” Narri snorted. “I’m over here tryna tape these titties up so they sit like they used to before Tate and his damn kids ruined me.”
Sabine smiled, grabbing her mascara wand. “What color you wearing?”
“Red. Tight. With a little mesh cutout. Gotta remind Tate what he missing when I walk in the room.”
“He gonna be there?”
“Girl, you know he ain’t never miss one of Reeka’s parties…which means…Adair will be there.”
“Most likely, it’s Reeka. She’ll want everybody she loves there.”
“You good with that?”
“I’m always good,” she said, and meant it but maybe not all the way.
“Okay miss strong. Just remember, you not invisible. You still fine as hell and worthy of joy. Let somebody see you tonight.”
“I’m not looking for nobody.”
“You don’t have to be. Just don’t block the blessing if it start lookin’ like 6’4” with nice teeth.”
Sabine rolled her eyes but smiled. “I’ll see you there.”
Standing in front of the mirror, she ran her fingers along the hem of her dress. It clung just right—fitted, tasteful, with a shimmer that caught the light when she moved. She’d thrown on a cropped fur over her shoulders and touched up her lipstick twice already. Still, something in her chest wouldn’t settle.
She wasn’t nervous about Reeka’s party—hell, she knew Reeka would drown her in shots and hugs the second she walkedthrough the door. It wasn’t even the crowd or the chaos she expected from a “ghetto glam” celebration.
It was him.
Adair.
Sabine didn’t like being around him outside of the structure they’d built. Sunday exchanges, quick updates about Ade, calls about pickup times. That was their lane now. Safe. Clean. Contained. But tonight, it wouldn’t be that. No time limit. No buffer. Just shared air and too many memories.
She sighed, grabbing her clutch. Her ride was already out front. Ade had gone hours ago—Pam insisted on keeping him overnight with all the smaller cousins so the grown folks could party freely. Sabine appreciated the space. She wasn’t ready to see her son’s father until she had at least one drink in her hand and trap music.
The Uber black pulled away from the curb, Sabine settled in the backseat, her neighborhood fading behind her. City lights slipped past the windows as her driver hummed along to a 90s R&B playlist, low enough to let her thoughts wander. The closer she got to the venue, the tighter her stomach clenched.
Not because she still loved him but because part of her still remembered how it felt to. And that, on nights like this, was dangerous.
Incoming FaceTime:REEKA
Sabine stared at it. Rolled her eyes. Declined.
Two seconds later: a text.
REEKA:
YOU ON THE WAY OR NAH?!
Send your location hoe. I need to know you not pulling a slick disappear.