Chapter 31
HAPPY BIRTHDAY AUNT TERRY
The smell of fried fish, charcoal smoke, and the secret baked mac and cheese filled the air as the Dayne family gathered in Pam’s backyard for Aunt Terry’s birthday.
Folding chairs were scattered in uneven rows under a tarp-covered canopy, Beyoncé’s Before I Let Go played loudly from the speakers having people line dancing.
The party had been going for about an hour when the house door creaked open again and out stepped Sabine.
With Adair.
And Ade between them, holding both their hands.
Conversations didn’t stop, not completely but the shift was immediate. One of the cousins tilted their sunglasses down. A group of messy aunties playing spades gave each other that look, like hm. Even the speaker skipped.
“They came together?” Pam muttered under her breath from the grill, tongs paused mid-flip. Reeka, already perched on the patio steps in a matching two-piece set and high bun, clocked it and smirked.
Sabine felt the tension adjusting the strap of her sundress and gave Ade’s little hand a gentle squeeze. He was busy scanning the party for his cousins, juice, cake and didn’t notice a thing.
Adair, however, noticed everything. Especially the way his mother folded her arms and tilted her head to the side like she was squinting through a microscope. She didn’t say a word, just stared at them.
“Why they looking like that?” Sabine whispered, teeth behind a smile.
“Probably cause you’re standing next to me instead of across the yard from me,” Adair muttered back laughing. “They ain’t seen this shit in forever, baby.”
Ade was the only one unaffected, dragging them forward.
“Grandma, look!” he called, bouncing down the porch steps to Pam. “Mommy and Daddy came together!”
“Mmhmm,” she said, squatting down to greet him. “I see that.”
“And they was kissin’ again!”
“They was what?” Pam straightened slowly.
“Kissin’,” Ade repeated proudly, beaming. “On the mouth. Like this—” He puckered then started moving his lips and adding tongue making Reeka damn near choke on her wine cooler.
“Oh my God,” Sabine looked up at the sky like take me now, Lord. “Adair Dayne Jr.!” she called their son by his full name, unable to hold in all her laughter. “You stop it!”
“It’s…” Adair tried to clear his laughter. “We just…we were talkin’.”
“Talkin’,” Pam echoed. “Mhm…”
“Communicating,” Sabine added quickly. “For Ade.”
“For Ade,” Pam repeated, not blinking. The one who’d caused the trouble had already run off to play with the other kids.
Sabine tried to shift the energy. She didn’t quite understand Pam’s disposition about them being together. “Where’s Aunt Terry? I brought her favorite wine.”
“In the house,” Pam answered, still staring between them. “She been talkin’ folks ears off about her new knees since twelve o’clock.”
“I’ll go give it to her,” Sabine offered and started toward the door.
“Take Adair with you,” Pam called. “Y’all seem to be attached at the lips lately.”
“Oooop!” somebody said.
Sabine stopped walking.
Adair scratched his neck. “Ma—”
“Boy, I’m observant and y’all think y’all slick.”
Reeka leaned back, chuckling. “Told you.”
Sabine turned around, cheeks warm, but her voice calm. “We didn’t plan to show up together. It just kind of happened. Ade had a good morning, so…we let it be a good day.”
Pam’s expression softened just a little. “Good,” she said. “Let it be one but remember, folks who walk in here together better walk out the same way. Especially when you got my grandbaby blurting out your business like the six-year-old he is.”
“Yes ma’am.” Adair nodded, his jaw tight with a held-back smile.
Sabine grinned and touched his arm. “Come on. Let’s find your aunt and get out the spotlight,” she whispered. They slipped into the house, past the judging eyes and knowing smirks, and left a trail of speculation in their wake.
Aunt Terry was exactly where Pam said she’d be—reclined in the living room, legs elevated on a stack of pillows, surgical stockings beneath a house dress, TV on low, fan oscillating in the corner. She had a plastic cup of Crown Royal in one hand and her phone in the other, swiping.
“Bout time y’all brought my gift,” she said without looking up. “And I hope it ain’t no damn lotion basket.”
Sabine laughed and held up the wine bag. “Imported. Sweet red. The one you made me drive two towns over for last year.”
Terry looked up then, eyes narrowed, scanning first the bag, then the way they stood too close together, and finally, how Adair looked at Sabine like his whole world was wrapped around her.
“Mmmhmm. Go head, set it down and sit, both of y’all. You makin’ me nervous standing there over me and shit. You know ion trust niggas all up on me.”
Adair chuckled and sat on the edge of the couch. Before Sabine could take the cushion beside him, he pulled her into his lap with one smooth tug.
“Adair!” she whispered, squirming.
“You already here,” he murmured back, hand gripping her thigh and his Aunt Terry stared over the rim of her cup and nodded slowly.
“Knew it.”
Adair tilted his head. “Knew what?”
“That this would happen,” she said. “Ade was runnin’ that mouth and now y’all sittin’ on top of one another just confirmed what I knew.”
Sabine laughed, but Terry kept her gaze on Adair.
“You better not fuck it up this time, Dair. Or I’ll beat yo’ ass myself. New knees and all.”
“I hear you.”
“No, I mean it. You broke that girl down once. You lucky she even let you kiss her again ole nasty ass nigga. Just like your nasty ass daddy.”
“Aunt Terry—” Sabine tried not to blush.
“Don’t Aunt Terry me,” she said, sitting up a little.
“I been prayin’ for y’all since the day y’all split.
Couldn’t even eat my food right for a week when I heard.
It messed up my whole digestive system. And you,” she pointed at Sabine, “you take your time. I know love still live in there somewhere, but don’t you let it drag you where you already crawled out of. You hear me, baby?”
Sabine nodded, quiet now.
“And Dair,” Terry said again, softer this time, “you get it right this time. Not perfect…just right.”
“I will,” Adair said, and Sabine felt the sincerity in his chest behind her.
Terry waved her hand. “Alright. Now gimme my wine.”
The door opened again, and the music came spilling into the living room. The unmistakable beginning had the whole backyard yelling, “It’s like candy!”
“Oh yeah, they gettin’ down now,” Terry said, propping her cup on her thigh. “Go on, open that door wider so I can hear it good!”
Soon, the house wasn’t quiet anymore. Cousins began trickling inside, bringing plates of fish and potato salad, laughing about old times and dragging Aunt Terry into photos. Somebody fixed her plate even though she swore she could do it herself now that the staples were out.
Sabine and Adair stayed seated on the couch, her legs across his lap, his hand resting on her knee, like it hadn’t been years since they last moved like this in public. It felt good. Comfortable.
Reeka came in dancing with a deviled egg between her fingers. “Aunt Terry tell them they gotta dance,” she called, pointing at them. “You can’t just rekindle and not two-step. It’s rules!”
Then, from the side of the room, someone cleared their throat. Adair turned and saw Geechie. Everyone’s eyes kept going between the two distant cousins.
There was a quiet between them that didn’t feel hostile, but it didn’t feel casual either. Just long and waiting. Sabine tensed slightly, but Adair placed a firm hand on her leg before standing.
“Let me talk to him,” he murmured, and she nodded. Geechie had a red cup in his hand and something sheepish in his stance.
“Look, man,” he said before Adair could speak when they stepped away from everyone. “I was outta pocket. At the party. I know I was. That ain’t how family supposed to act.”
“You crossed a line.” Adair kept his jaw tight.
“I was wrong. Point blank. I’m not gone press her again, ever. Not even in play. She ain’t for that and she definitely ain’t for me.” Geechie scratched the back of his neck. “I’m sorry.”
Adair studied him for a long second, then gave a slow nod. “Alright.”
Geechie exhaled. “We good?”
Adair hesitated but extended his hand. “We straight but don’t ever disrespect her again.”
“Fair.”
They clasped hands, quick and hard. Before he could return to the couch, Pam appeared in the doorway. Her face was unreadable, but her arms were folded in that mama stance that meant something was about to be addressed.
“Sabine. Adair. Can I talk to y’all for a minute?” she said, already walking toward the den. The two exchanged a glance and followed. Once they were inside the quiet space, Pam closed the door gently.
She didn’t sit.
She didn’t speak right away.
Just looked at them.
Both of them.
Together.
Then finally: “I know y’all grown. Y’all don’t owe me your relationship play-by-plays but that boy, my grandbaby, is always watching and whether y’all know it or not, the whole family watches too.”
“I understand,” Sabine nodded.
“Do you?” Pam raised an eyebrow. “Because y’all done been through hell and came out on opposite ends. And now you lookin’ all cozy and fine again, but that kind of shift, it stirs things up. Not just for you two, but for everybody who had to watch y’all fall apart in the first place.”
“Ma,” Adair rubbed the side of his face. “I mean we grown, do we really gotta—”
“Oh you grown?” she leaned away. “Now y’all grown but for the last few years, y’all ain’t acted grown. Y’all put me in the middle, showed me parts of yaselves I was surprised to see and yet, I can’t ask what the hell this is?!”
“Ma—”
“Pam, I mean, Ma—”