Tomorrow, she'd build again.
ADAIR
Thebackyard was loud with laughter and whirling bubble wands. The sun sat low, casting long shadows over the grass while the kids tore through the yard like they had nowhere to be and all day to get there. Ade was barefoot now—his sneakers somewhere near the porch and TJ had lost his shirt already. Typical.
But it was Nariyah that Adair couldn’t stop watching. She toddled toward the sprinkler with that fearless wobble all toddlers had, pigtails swinging, her soft giggle high-pitched and contagious. Her little teeth barely filled her mouth, but her smile was full face. Big. Bright. Whole.
She was beautiful. She looked like everything he imagined Ariyah would’ve been. He swallowed something that tried to climb his throat. Sat back deeper into the lawn chair with a bottle of water pressed to his lips just to keep his hands busy. Just to keep himself from losing it.
He’d never heard Ariyah laugh. Never saw her eyes open. Never struggled through a ponytail or tied little barrettes at the end of braids that didn’t lay flat. He never got to tie a bow in her hair or tell her no to candy before dinner and hear her pout about it.
He never got to be her dad. But he was still watching his goddaughter like she was a living mirror. One that cut deeper the longer he stared.
“She make it hard sometimes, huh?” Tate asked, plopping down in the chair beside him. Adair didn’t answer right away. Just nodded. “You remember how she got her name?”
“How could I forget?”
“I ain’t know what to call her. I just knew she was beautiful as fuck. Small lil thing that I couldn’t believe was mine bro. Me and Narri was beefin’ that whole last month of her pregnancy and I felt bad as fuck that she had to go into labor feelin’ like she did. She wouldn’t even talk to me so we could name her. Lady kept comin’ in, askin’ if we decided yet and her stubborn ass ain’t say shit. But Sabine came to the hospital, held her for a minute and said, ‘her name should be Nariyah. That’s what she feels like.’ And Narri just said, ‘then that’s what we’ll call her.’ Ain’t ask me or nothin’ but…I knew that shit was personal for them.”
They both knew why Sabine named Nariyah—Nariyah and why Narri agreed without any objection. Another beat of silence passed before Adair finally spoke again.
“She beautiful man.”
“Yeah,” Tate nodded, following his gaze, staring at his baby girl who was twirling the bubble wand in a circle. So carefree. “And she nosy. And mean as hell when she don’t get her way, just like her momma.”
Adair looked away—he wondered if Ariyah would have been kind and sweet like her momma. He was watching Ade now, watching how his son took care of TJ like a little brother. Made sure he didn’t fall when they climbed the low stone wall, handed him the blue ice pop even though Ade wanted that one. He was a good kid. A sweet boy and Adair didn’t want him growing up thinking he and Sabine’s relationship or lack thereof wasnormal. He didn’t want his son to ever, even remotely do to a woman what he’d done to his mother.
“I went to see Sabine last week,” Adair said quietly.
“I know. Narri told me she ain’t hear from her that whole night, just said she looked...drained the next morning.”
“For somebody that hate you every other day, she sure tell you every damn thing.”
“Narri talk all that shit but call me all day bout the smallest stuff. If her nail tech went up on prices, her stiff face ass mama talkin’ down on a nigga, blamin’ me for her hemorrhoids,” he said, and they both laughed. “But let you do somethin’ to Sabine, youandme is bitch ass niggas and she wish they never met us, and she should sock me in my shit just off GP cause my homie ain’t shit.”
Adair was cracking up, but he truly wasn’t mad. He appreciated that Sabine had Narri because outside of his family, whom she chose to isolate herself from, she didn’t really have anyone. Narri held his wife—ex-wife down and he couldn’t even feel some type of way when she was ready to ride on her behalf.
“What y’all talk about though?”
“She ain’t tell you that?”
“Nope, she said to ask your bitch ass,” Tate laughed.
“Your baby mama a trip nigga.”
“I’m already knowin’.”
Adair let out a long breath, eyes fixed on the kids. “Honestly, everything. I told her the truth—the truth that wasn’t walked around and told in bits. I told her everything. Out my mouth. From my heart. Then I let her say everything she’d been holding in.”
“And?”
“I walked away.”
Tate didn’t say anything at first. Just nodded slow. “That’s real.”
“It wasn’t easy.”
“Truthfully, ion think it was supposed to be.”