Chapter 28 #3
“You the only version of Cinderella I believe in,” he murmured. “The Black one…the one who doesn’t wait for anybody to save her…the one who still got the heart to love even though she never had shit handed to her.”
Her tears brimmed her eyes. “This is supposed to be about you…damn, Zaire!” Angrily, she flicked a tear.
“I love you.”
Meadow kissed him so hard it almost knocked the wind from both of them. Her hips rolled hungrily and too real for the small space between them. He groaned into her mouth, the sound vibrating through her chest.
“You gon’ get us in trouble,” she whispered.
“You on my lap doin’ all this,” he whispered back, sliding his hands under her shirt. “You the trouble.”
Her skin shivered under his touch.
“Tell me somethin’ else,” he murmured, lips brushing her jaw. “Tell me somethin’ real.”
Ariana Grande’s POV started playing. It was her favorite song on the playlist she’d created for this ride in the sky.
“I trust you,” she breathed.
Zaire’s eyes closed like she’d blessed him.
“Take your shirt off,” he whispered. “Let me see you.”
She lifted it slowly, revealing the lace bralette she picked on purpose. Zaire dragged his hands over her ribs, her waist, and her hips, slow enough to memorize every inch.
“You’re mine,” he said, voice dropping. “You don’t even know how deep you got me,”
she whimpered.
The plane leveled, and he cupped her ass, pulling her down harder onto him. “I got you flyin’ through the sky sittin’ on my lap. Cinderella ain’t never lived like this.”
She laughed.
“As soon as we land,” he whispered, kissing her neck, “I’m takin’ you somewhere nobody can hear you.”
“Zaire-”
“Nah, you wanted to spoil me? Aight, but I’m eatin’ first.”
She gasped when he rocked his hips under her. “Zaire…”
“Aight, baby,” he said, calming himself and pulling her closer so her head rested against his chest. “Let me calm down before I do somethin’ stupid.”
Meadow settled into him, the jet humming softly like a soundtrack to their escapade, his heartbeat strong under her ear.
She could feel Zaire’s hand stroking her back as he whispered, “Marai…you the slipper and the castle…you the whole story.”
She smiled into his shirt.
“And you?” she murmured.
He kissed the top of her head.
“I’m the nigga who finally caught you.”
The jet touched down softer than Meadow expected.
Almost too soft, like the world itself knew she needed a gentle landing after everything the last few weeks had taken out of her.
When they climbed down the steps, the evening air brushed against her cheeks. They made it back to the range in no time. Of course, he drove and they were both still high off the altitude.
Zaire squeezed her hand before he got out, walking ahead to talk to a contractor who’d been waiting by a black SUV.
He’d been juggling so much lately - the grounds, the house expansion, the staff restructuring, the lawsuits True was pressing, the PR cleanup - it all made Meadow’s chest ache with a mix of pride and guilt.
She stayed back by the Cadillac, fingers brushing over the hood as she inhaled the fresh air.
That’s when his phone started buzzing on the seat.
She glanced around for him, but he was already knee-deep in conversation with the contractor, head down, brows scrunched, talking about soil levels and foundation lines like he’d built houses all his life.
The phone buzzed again and again.
Then the screen lit up with a name she’d never seen before.
INMATE CALL
Meadow froze, her heart stopping long enough to make her hesitate before she picked it up.
She looked toward Zaire again - still busy, still unaware. Something inside her chest whispered that maybe this moment wasn’t a mistake…maybe it was meant to be hers. She inhaled softly and thumbed the button. “Hello?”
“Press 1 to accept this prepaid call from California State Prison”
Her fingers stumbled to press one. There was a long beep, followed by static, then a voice smooth enough to settle her bones and warm enough to catch her off guard said, “Who this, cuh?”
Meadow blinked hard. “Ummm Meadow…Meadow Green.”
She felt stupid for saying her full name.
A low chuckle rolled through the line, rich and edged with charm. “Well, Meadow Green…you ain’t the voice I expected. You got a sweet one, though.”
Her smile slipped out before she could stop it. “Lord…uh, thank you.”
“Mmhmm,” he hummed, amused. “You nervous?”
“Only a little,” she confessed.
“Well, don’t be. I don’t bite, least not unless somebody ask me real nice.”
Meadow’s jaw dropped. “Okay yeah, you’re definitely his Pops.”
Antwan laughed - a deep, slow, belly laugh that sounded like it had been carried through a lifetime of walls and still managed to survive with its softness intact.
“Zaire there?” he asked.
“He’s talking to somebody about something he’s having installed.
“That boy always tryna fix somethin’,” he said fondly. “Just like his Mama. Never could sit still.”
Meadow’s chest warmed at the familiarity in his tone…the love…the ease.
Antwan asked, “And you? How you fit into my son’s world?”
Meadow stumbled for the first time. “I…uh…I’m—”
He saved her from her own tongue. “Sweetheart, I ain’t askin’ for your résumé. I’m askin’ how you fit.”
A pause.
Gentle…understanding…old-soul steady.
“How you make my boy feel?”
Meadow’s breath snagged. “Safe,” she whispered. Everything inside her felt peaceful. “I make him feel…safe.”
Antwan exhaled. “Then you already matter more than you know.”
Her eyes stung.
This man…this stranger…this father behind bars who somehow still held a softness that made the world feel warmer.
He had Zaire’s heart right in his voice.
“Zaire got more fight in him than most men,” Antwan lectured, voice slipping into a slight rasp, “but he got this thing where he tries to hold everything alone, like he owes the world a debt he didn’t create.”
Meadow closed her eyes, soaking in just how much she and Zaire were alike. She knew all too well about trying to pay debts you had no knowledge of…debts you inherited.
“He does,” she agreed, “more than I think he realizes.”
Antwan hummed. “So I’m right…he’s lettin’ you see the parts he hides from everybody else.”
“Sometimes,” she said softly. “At least, I think so.”
“That’s good,” he replied. “My boy ain’t never needed much…just somebody who sees him as the masterpiece he is. Somebody who talks to him...somebody he ain’t gotta pretend for.”
Meadow pressed her hand to her chest.
Antwan kept going like he’d been waiting his entire sentence to say this to somebody who’d love his son right.
“You ain’t gotta be perfect for him, Meadow Green,” he wanted her to know. “You just gotta be real. Zaire doesn’t do well with masks. He gets that from me, from his Mama too. We don’t like pretend love…we don’t accept quiet love…we only respect the love that stands next to you when life gets loud.”
Meadow’s chest seized up, the weight of his words settling into her, making her heart beat with a tenderness.
Antwan grew quieter. “You one of the first people outside this family he let get close…I can hear it in the way you breathe when you talk about him.”
“I…I love that about him,” she managed.
“I know you do,” Antwan’s smile was heard through the line. “I can hear it.”
He asked softly, “You treatin’ him good, though right?”
Meadow didn’t hesitate. “Yes, sir. I’m tryin’ my best.”
“Good…I didn’t do right by him. So, it makes me feel better knowing, he’s living,” he sniffed. “Far as I’m concerned…that makes you family.”
A tear slipped down her cheek.
No one had ever told her she could be someone’s family this fast, no one but Zaire. And now, the man who made him…the man who taught him charm and grit and love even from behind bars…the man who still raised his son without being able to go home had stamped her.
“Thank you,” Meadow whispered, her voice breaking.
“Mmhmm,” Antwan nodded into the phone. “Now give him this message, tell him his old man said stop takin’ life so serious.”
She laughed, wiping her face. “Yes, sir.”
“And tell him…” Antwan paused, his voice thickening with something heavy, “that I’m proud of him, even if he can’t always hear it.”
Meadow inhaled hard. “I’ll tell him.”
“And Meadow?”
“Yes?”
“You good for him, don’t let fear tell you otherwise.”
Her eyes shut tight. “I won’t,” she whispered.