Chapter 28
ADAIR
“Okay, well, I did what I could. You better make this good. This is your last shot, so alley-oop this shit, Dair.”
“I got you.”
Narri stared across the kitchen island like she was trying to see straight through him. “That’s what you told me when you married her and when you took her away from me to New York…” Her voice dipped. “How…how do I know you mean it this time?”
Adair didn’t answer right away. He let the question sit for a second. Then he leaned forward, both hands flat on the counter, eyes locked with hers.
“Because I already lost her,” he said, voice full and determined.
“And I lived in that loss. I sat in it, day after fucking day. I carried it through courtrooms; I wore it under every suit. I tried to outrun it, slept with women who meant nothing, said I was moving on but I wasn’t.
I was just going in circles. I lost the only woman who ever saw all of me and I know I did that.
” He inhaled sharply through his nose. “I know she don’t owe me shit.
I know forgiveness is hers to give, not mine to demand but Narri…
I’m not coming from pride this time. I’m coming from my knees because I still love her and not in some sweet, fairytale way either.
I love her in the way that aches. I love her through the ugliest parts of us.
Through the grief. Through the silence I won’t ever let us be again.
Through the fuckin’ mistakes that tore us down.
” He paused, throat tight. “I…I remember the first time she laughed with me. The first time she trusted me with something small, then something big. I remember her barefoot in the kitchen, swollen and pregnant. I remember holding her when she was in pain. And…I…I remember the look in her eyes when she needed me most and I wasn’t there…
I can’t change that,” he said, quieter now.
“But I can own it. I can build something from the rubble. I can make sure that woman never questions her worth again. Not from me. Not ever.” He straightened slowly.
“This isn’t about me getting another chance,” Adair added.
“It’s about making sure she sees the man she always believed I could be.
The one I should’ve been all along. I’m not just trying to remind her why she fell in love.
I’m trying to show her she wasn’t wrong for doing it in the first place. ”
Narri studied him for a long time.
Then she nodded once.
“All right,” she cleared her throat. “Make it count.” Blinking her eyes rapidly to stop the emotions his confession brought on, she went right back firm, all business.
“The DJ is locked in, I was about to curse him out too.” She grabbed her phone and checked the screen.
“That woman better cry. You got one night to nail this. One. So don’t get in your own way. ”
“I won’t.”
“Good.”
The front door opened before he could reply, little feet hitting the floorboards fast.
“Mommy!” TJ bolted into the kitchen, crashing into Narri’s legs. She bent down instinctively, scooping him up and burying her face in his curls.
“I missed you, chunky butt,” she murmured, kissing his cheeks. Tate walked in seconds later with Nariyah in his arms, clinging to him because she hated to be put down once he picked her up.
Adair stepped back, watching the scene unfold—Narri with their son in her arms, Tate standing behind her with their daughter still clinging to him. It was quiet for a beat, the only sound TJ’s little laugh as Narri tickled his side.
Tate bent slightly, pressed a kiss to Narri’s cheek then, without thinking, to her neck. Just a brush of lips and heat, but it lingered. She didn’t move. Didn’t lean into it either but Adair saw the way her eyes closed, just for a second.
She was trying not to want it.
And failing.
Adair folded his arms, gaze flicking between them. They looked like a family. A whole one. Nothing like the pain Tate had spilled the last time they talked. They looked fine now.
But Adair knew better than most that “fine” was a performance. A shell you wore when you were too tired to be honest. He made a mental note to circle back. Not tonight but soon.
Tate needed to talk to her. Really talk. Not just stand behind her like a shadow trying to earn light. Not just keep kissing her and hoping it’d erase what he broke. Because if there was one thing Adair learned the hard way—it’s that silence was its own kind of betrayal.
And sometimes, the longer you waited to speak, the more damage you did.