Part One… #10
They were gathered by the cake table now—a tiered buttercream showstopper perched on a mirrored stand, trimmed in gold flakes with soft pink and baby blue rosettes piped by hand.
In the center, a delicate acrylic topper shimmered under the lights: “Boy or Girl?” etched in cursive, nestled between two tiny fondant booties.
The whole thing looked like it belonged in a magazine because, again, Pam had made sure it did.
The inside was dyed either pink or blue, and only Aunt Terri knew which. She was a secretly talented baker and cake designer who worked in Walmart’s bakery. She wouldn’t let anyone else do it and Pam was happy to give her sister the honor.
Terri made it and kept the secret like it was national security. Didn’t even let Pam know because she wanted her sister to be surprised too.
Adair walked over and stood behind Sabine again, hands on her hips with the biggest smile on his face. “You wanna cut it?”
“No. You do it,” Sabine nudged him.
“Baby, you should—”
“Y’all asses do it together!” Terri shouted, handing them the knife. “Workin’ my damn nerves,” she fussed making them laugh. “All that lovey bird shat!”
Adair grabbed the knife and Sabine placed her hand atop his nervously. Slowly it slid down inside through the buttercream icing and into the soft center. Pulling it out carefully, almost flinchingly. Then—”
Blue.
Someone screamed.
Reeka yelled “I knew it!” like money was on the line.
Tate started doing some dumb little dance, happy he was getting a godson, that ended with him almost knocking the cake off the table.
Pam was hugging them both before she proudly went around showing off a slice of cake to all the older relatives who weren’t able to move around as much. She was getting a grandson.
In the middle of all that chaos, Sabine cried. Not loud. Not ugly. Just tears sliding down as she held onto Adair, her forehead pressed to his chest.
“Hey,” he whispered, wiping her cheek with his thumb. “You okay?”
She nodded, still crying. “He has a good daddy.”
Adair’s throat tightened. “And he got the best mama.”
Sabine looked around again. At these loud, beautiful, messy people who weren’t hers by blood—but were hers in every way that counted.
She didn’t regret a thing.
Later that night…
Sabine stood in the mirror of their bedroom, still in the white dress she’d worn all day, fingers trailing over the soft rise of her belly.
“A boy,” she whispered.
Adair came up behind her, hands slipping around her waist, palms wide and warm against the fabric. He rested his chin on her shoulder, and they looked at their reflection together—him shirtless, her glowing, his lips brushed the curve of her neck.
“You givin’ me a son,” he said softly, like he couldn’t believe it was real.
Sabine turned in his arms, her face already breaking into a smile before she even looked up at him. “We gave each other one.”
“Nah,” he whispered, guiding her backward toward the bed. “You did this. You carryin’ him, protectin’ him. Doin’ all the hard work…while I was out there movin’ stupid.” His voice cracked a little. “But I’m here now and that shit won’t ever happen again baby.”
Sabine didn’t speak. Just pulled him down with her, mouths finding each other in that slow, familiar way. No rush. No noise. Just breath and touch and the gentle weight of his body settling between her legs like he was home.
Adair peeled her dress over her head with care, revealing the delicate lace of her bra, her warm skin, the small swell that held their future. He kissed every inch of her belly before he even touched her thighs.
Sabine cupped his face, tears pooling in her eyes. “I love you, Adair.”
Adair answered with his mouth, first on her ribs, then her breasts, then her lips again. Every movement was soft. Worshipful. Like he was scared to break her.
When he finally entered her, slow and deep, Sabine gasped into his mouth. Adair gripped the headboard behind her, keeping his weight off her body, careful not to press too hard. But the rhythm between them was steady. Deep. Intimate.
“I got you,” he whispered into her ear. “You don’t gotta do nothin’. Just let me love you.”
And she did. She let go. Let herself fall into the feeling. Into him.
Their bodies rocked in sync with the fan spinning above them, the room full of heat. She held onto his back, nails gentle, heart open. He kissed her through every moan, every shift in breath, like he needed to feel it all. Needed her to know.
When she came, it was silent. Just a long exhale and a soft shake.
He followed soon after, burying his face into her neck, whispering her name like a prayer.
They laid there afterward in the dark, tangled and quiet.
His hand rested on her belly. Her fingers played with the curls at the nape of his neck.
“You really gonna be a daddy,” she murmured.
“I already am,” he said. “And you? You the love of my life, Bine.”
She smiled in the dark. “Then don’t forget it.”
“I won’t.”
And he meant it.
SEPTEMBER 11, 2011
Pam’s house was full. Not with noise, but with feeling. She had made breakfast—grits, eggs, toast, turkey sausage—but nobody really ate. The scent of food lingered, but appetite was lost under the lump in everyone’s throat. It felt like a Sunday morning funeral and a baby shower all at once.
Sabine stood by the couch in a long cardigan and leggings, her belly much more prominent, small but proud.
Narri had her arms wrapped around her from behind, face buried in Sabine’s shoulder, refusing to let go.
Parthenia sat cross-legged on the floor, chin trembling, pretending to scroll her phone but not reading anything.
Her sister was leaving and it was hard to swallow.
“You really leaving,” Narri whispered. “Like really gone.”
“I gotta,” Sabine said, voice thick. “It’s not just me anymore. I have to for my family.”
“You gonna call every day,” Parthenia demanded without looking up.
“I promise.”
Pam circled the living room, anointing everything that would stand still.
Foreheads. Belly. Suitcases. Palms. “In the name of Jesus, I cover this union,” she murmured, eyes closed, hand resting firm on Sabine’s stomach.
“Cover this baby. Cover the path they walk. Don’t let no harm come near them, Lord. Don’t let no weapon formed prosper.”
“Amen,” the room echoed, tearfully.
Adair had been quiet most of the morning. Just watching. Carrying. Making sure the car was packed just right. But now, he approached asking Narri for some space to be near his wife. He stood behind Sabine and slipped his fingers between hers.
“I got her,” he said, voice steady. “Y’all don’t gotta worry. I got her, and I got him.”
“You better,” Narri sniffled. “Because if you don’t, I swear—”
“I know,” Adair nodded, cracking the smallest smile. “I’ll never give you a reason.”
Pam kissed Sabine’s cheek. Then Adair’s. “Y’all go start y’all life now. Go make somethin’ beautiful.”
Sabine looked around the room one more time. These people had loved her, held her through every ugly thing. But the choice had been made. Her family hadn’t wanted her marriage, so she built a new one. She never regretted it. Not once.
But it still hurt.
They walked out slowly, arms linked. The car was running, the air outside already changing, a breeze brushing leaves on the sidewalk.
Sabine slid into the passenger seat. Adair adjusted the rearview mirror, took her hand again. And just like that, they pulled off. A husband. A wife. A baby boy growing between them. Headed to a new city. A new chapter. A new version of forever.
They had no way of knowing what was really waiting down the road.
No way of bracing for the nights apart.
The long silences.
The grief.
All they knew then, at that moment, was love.