Chapter 26
ADAIR
The air outside was heavier than when they went in—thicker with humidity, or maybe just with everything they’d spilled inside that room.
Adair stood on the sidewalk just beyond the glass doors of Pumila Psychiatry, watching his breath fog slightly in the cool night air. The parking lot was mostly empty now. The sun had dropped while they were inside, leaving the world dim and bluish.
Sabine stood beside him, arms folded, eyes on the ground.
She hadn’t spoken since they left the office.
Just walked out quietly, clutching her bag like if she let go, she’d float off into whatever grief hadn’t finished with her yet.
Adair didn’t say anything at first. Didn’t want to break whatever silence was keeping her upright but then, he reached for her.
No words. No permission. Just contact.
His arms folded around her gently, instinctively, and God, she was still so small in his hold. Still so warm. He felt her stiffen first—muscle memory telling her not to give in but she didn’t pull away.
Sabine stayed.
She stayed, and he held her tighter. She hated it. He knew she did. Hated that his arms were the only ones she’d ever felt safest in. Even now. Even after everything.
He kissed her forehead—soft, deliberate—and let it linger.
She still didn’t move.
He pulled back just enough to look at her. “Can I take you to dinner?”
Her eyes flickered up to meet his. Tired. Glossy. Wary.
“Adair…”
“No funny shit,” he said quickly, hands still lightly resting on her waist. “Just let me feed you, baby.”
The endearment slipped out like muscle memory too, and this time she didn’t waver at it. She looked at him for a long beat—like she was weighing what would happen if she said yes. Like she didn’t trust the comfort she still felt around him. Like she hated herself for wanting it, too.
But then, finally, she nodded.
“Okay,” she said. Quiet. Barely there. They didn’t say much walking to the car. Silence hung between the, not tense, just full of…a lot.
Eva’s hadn’t changed a damn bit. Inside, the air was warm—thick with the smell of fried catfish, smoked turkey necks, and honey butter cornbread.
Black-owned. Black-run and Black as hell.
The kind of place where you didn’t need a menu because the specials were always the same rotation, and the music made you close your eyes and hum under your breath.
Eva herself was still behind the counter, rocking her silver twist-out and yelling orders back to the kitchen as if she owned the place—which she did.
Sabine slid into a booth without a word, running her fingers lightly over the worn wood of the tabletop.
Her shoulders relaxed a little, just slightly.
This place had always done that to her. It was where she came when she needed comfort food after their divorce and she felt as if his family was no longer hers.
Adair could remember her tearing up their famous fried okra when she was pregnant with Ade. She finally looked up at him, a faint smirk threatening the corner of her lips.
“I’m not sharing none of my food,” Sabine declared already knowing how Adair could be. He was indecisive and would choose something then claim hers looked better.
“I already know,” he held his hands up.
They ordered chicken and waffles for her, oxtail and collards for him. Mac and cheese on the side. Sweet tea with extra lemon because he remembered she liked it that way, even if she didn’t think he did. She noticed it too, when the drinks came, but said nothing.
The silence between them now was different. Less heavy. Less like a door slammed shut and more like one cracked open just wide enough for a breeze to pass through.
Adair stirred his tea with the straw, eyes drifting to the window beside them where the streetlights made soft halos in the dark. “You know,” he said finally, “I didn’t expect you to say yes.”
“I didn’t expect to say yes,” she admitted, stabbing a piece of waffle with her fork. “But…I don’t know. I guess my body moved before my mind caught up.”
“Used to be the other way around with you,” he retorted and she looked at him with raised brows. “I mean…you were always good at thinking first,” he corrected, “whereas I…clearly wasn’t.”
Sabine didn’t argue. Just ate a bite and sighed in the way only she could.
Quietly, devastatingly beautiful. Her hair was pulled up into a loose bun, but a few curls had slipped free, framing her face like they used to when she was younger, when they were younger.
A little frizz at the edges, a stray piece near her cheek.
She hadn’t even bothered to tuck it behind her ear.
She looked exactly like the girl he fell in love with six years ago and at the same time, nothing like her.
Tired. Harder and softer in some ways but still her.
Adair swallowed, looking down at his plate. Sabine didn’t notice him staring. Or if she did, she didn’t say anything. She was busy mopping up the last bit of syrup with her fork, then sighing as she leaned back in the booth, her hand lazily drawing circles on the condensation of her glass.
“You’re handling the Aderra contracts?” she asked casually but it was certainly something now lingering between them.
“Yeah,” he cleared his throat, wiping his mouth with a napkin and nodded. “We didn’t finalize terms until Monday. Lewin signed the full engagement letter and scope memo yesterday. It’s official now…my firm’s lead counsel on the deal.”
“So you’re managing the transaction personally?”
“Yeah. I’m point of contact. It’s a major transaction.
We’re looking at equity agreements, partner compensation models, the whole nine.
There’s a lot of money on the line,” he added.
“Aderra’s initial valuation puts it north of $200 million post-launch.
That’s not something you hand off to a junior associate.
The firm thought I was best suited to quarterback the deal.
” He cleared his throat. “But if you’re uncomfortable—with me specifically—I’ll recuse myself.
I’ll pass it to Nigel and pull out of the file. You just have to say the—”
“No, no, it’s fine.”
“You sure you’re okay with me being the one managing it?”
“Adair,” Sabine reached across the table grabbing his hand, seeing he gauged her reaction wrong. “I’m not just okay with it,” she said, surprising him. “I’m glad.”
“Yeah?”
She nodded, her fingers circling the rim again.
“It feels like…life forced a reset, and somehow, you’re still part of the biggest thing I’ve ever built.
For so long I’ve been angry with you, but deep down?
I always knew if something mattered to me, you’d make sure it was protected. You’d protect…me.”
Adair’s throat tightened. “I will.”
“I know.”
“You think I’m gonna let some developer’s in-house counsel slide through loopholes and leave you exposed?
” he asked. “Not happening. I’ve already flagged two restrictive covenants and a sneaky non-compete clause in one of the early JV drafts.
If they try to box you out, I’ll see it coming six contracts ahead. ”
Sabine cracked a tiny smile.
“You always were annoyingly good at contracts.”
“Still am,” he said, lips twitching. “Your founder’s equity is safe. I’ll make sure your ownership structure is ironclad, the stock dilution language favors you, and the arbitration clause is in our city, not theirs.”
“I appreciate that.”
“You don’t have to,” he replied. “You built something powerful. I just get to make sure nobody fucks it up.”
The moment stretched between them. Something quiet but steady settled in the air—respect, maybe. A fragile kind of trust and maybe, just maybe, Adair thought, it was the first time in years she believed he had her back again.
The check came in a slim leather folio, slipped discreetly onto the table and without hesitation, Adair reached for it. Sabine didn’t stop him. Didn’t reach. Didn’t do the old petty move of pretending to grab her wallet only to let him pay anyway.
Something about that stuck out to him. Petty Sabine was…
gone. Or maybe just too tired tonight to show up but the woman across from him now?
She was real. She was raw. She’d cried in his arms and let him hold her through the storm of their shared past, and now, she was letting him pay for her meal without the power play.
Adair signed the receipt in silence but inside, Adair was spinning because now…now came the part he’d been dreading. He was going to ruin this. He didn’t want to.
God, he didn’t.
However, he couldn’t keep lying by omission.
Not again. Not after the way she broke in therapy.
Not after the way she leaned on him. Not after she told him she was glad he was still part of her life.
She was leaned back, fingers lazily swirling her straw in her near-empty glass, full from food and comfort and just enough peace to make tonight feel like something other than what it usually did.
“Can I…” he started, then stopped. Sabine looked over at him.
“What?”
He licked his lips, trying to summon something that didn’t sound like a trap. “Can I come home with you? Just to sit. I’m not trying anything. I swear. I just…” He shook his head. “I don’t want this night to end yet.”
Sabine’s eyes lingered on his for a long beat. Then she said, “We’re not doing what we did last time.”
“Wasn’t planning on it,” he lied.
“Mmhm,” she pursed her lips, knowing her ex-husband all too well and of course, Adair grinned despite himself.
“Okay, maybe I was thinking about it but I meant it. I just want to be close to you tonight. Do I want to make love to you, you know I do, however, that doesn’t change me wanting to still be as close as you let me.”
Sabine didn’t respond, but the corner of her mouth twitched. He took it as a win. They left Eva’s under city lights, full and floating. Not quite healed. Not quite whole but…something.