Chapter 33
TERMS & TENDERNESS
ADAIR
ADAIR
Today was the day.
Adair exhaled slowly through his nose, one hand resting on the edge of his desk. This wasn’t just another deal, and not because the numbers were unusually large or the clauses particularly complex. It was who was on the other side of the deal. What it meant.
Sabine’s name was on that paperwork—her startup, her ideas, her voice. And today, his firm would help seal it into something real. Something binding. He couldn’t stop smiling.
They hadn’t talked about what the future looked like, but he was at her house every morning.
Every night. He knew which drawer in her kitchen held the tea bags, which side of the bed she rolled toward in her sleep.
Ade didn’t even ask questions anymore, he just woke up grinning when both parents were there.
Most of all, she was pregnant.
Sabine was pregnant with another one of his children and that… kept him on the good foot—every hour, every day. Like he had purpose again. Adair hadn’t known he could still feel like this. Like a man who didn’t just get another shot, but who knew damn well not to waste it.
His phone was buzzing across the desk, vibrating against the wood with the familiar contact name that still made his chest soften without warning:
Momma.
He picked it up, smile already forming.
“Hey, Ma.”
“Good morning my baby,” Pam’s voice sang. “I know it’s Sabine’s big day and I know how important this is for the both of you, but I just needed to hear my son’s voice and I feel like you needed to hear mine.”
“I did, Ma…thank you.” Adair rubbed at the back of his neck as he exhaled. She always knew.
“Mhm. I could feel it in my chest this morning. Had to light a little sage and say a prayer over you.”
“I love you, Ma.” He laughed, warmth spreading through his body like heat from one of her good meals.
“I love you more. I’m proud of you. Both of you. You hear me?” she said. “Don’t matter what y’all been through. You still show up for her and she still let you.”
Adair swallowed. His throat tightened. Pam paused like she was waiting, like she could hear more in his silence than he was saying. Like she knew there was something he was holding it.
“She’s pregnant,” he said, voice quiet but sure. There was a beat of stunned silence.
And then Pam screamed. The kind that made him yank the phone away from his ear as her joyful shriek echoed.
“LORD HAVE MERCY! ARE YOU SERIOUS? YOU LYIN’, ADAIR DAYNE, I SWEAR TO GOD—”
“I ain’t lyin’,” he said, chuckling now. “Calm down momma.”
“I’M DOIN’ THE FOOTSIE! OH, BABY—” He could hear it too—the faint sound of her feet tapping in place, like a fast shuffle. “That’s my girl. I KNEW IT. I KNEW SOMETHIN’ WAS GOIN’ ON WITH HER. Her skin looked too damn clear last Sunday!”
Adair dropped his head and laughed fully now, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Keep it to yourself for now,” he said. “Sabine hasn’t told anybody.”
“I ain’t gon’ say a word. I’m just gon’ praise the Lord and wait ‘til she do. Oh baby, thank you. Thank you for telling me. You didn’t have to, but you did.”
“I wanted to. I just…I wanted you to know.”
“You sound like yourself again, Adair. That’s the part that’s gon’ make me cry.” Pam’s sniffles nearly got him. “Go be excellent. I’m prayin’ for you. For your family.”
“I feel it,” he murmured. “I really do.”
Just then, a knock sounded at his door again.
“I gotta go. I’ll call you after.”
“I love you, my baby.”
“I love you too momma,” he hung up then belted. “Come in.”
“Well, congratulations are in order, I suppose.” Corrine stepped in, tablet in hand. She was wearing a dark navy dress, fitted and crisp. Her expression was neutral, polished like always, though he noted the slightly raised brow as she spoke.
“Damn, the fuck you got bionic ears?” Adair’s smile dimmed. He just knew her nosy ass had her ear pressed to the door. “Can I help you with something?”
“Are we riding over together?” she asked.
The silence in the room thickened just enough before he answered. He didn’t say anything right away. Just looked at her. That look alone said it all. Why the hell would we do that?
Corrine cleared her throat. “Since we’re both co-lead counsel—”
“I’m lead counsel, you are co. I’m driving my car,” Adair cut in, voice even but clipped. “See you there.” He didn’t break eye contact.
Corrine held his gaze a moment longer, then gave a tight nod and turned on her heel, closing the door behind her.
Adair sat back down, ignoring the flicker of annoyance she always managed to stir.
This wasn’t about her. It hadn’t been for a long time.
Today wasn’t her story, it was Sabine’s and his role in it was simple:
Show up.
Protect her interests.
Make sure nobody—nobody—messed this up.
Adair gave the last page one more glance before sliding it into a leather folder, then into his briefcase. There was still time to grab her favorite drink she always loved while pregnant with Ade, from the spot down the street before the meeting started.
Minutes later, Adair stepped into the parking garage, the clack of his dress shoes echoing off concrete walls. His keys twirled once around his finger before he hit unlock, headlights flashing.
Corrine was already there. She stood a few rows down, near her car, pretending to organize something in the passenger seat.
She wasn’t fumbling or rushing, though. Just lingering, like she was waiting for a moment to catch his eye.
Her body angled just enough that if he looked her way, it’d be impossible to ignore her.
But he didn’t.
He didn’t glance once in her direction.
Just popped the trunk of his Audi, placed his briefcase in neatly, and shut it with a thud.
She still thought he’d fold. That eventually, he’d slip back into proximity, into old rhythms, into moments he couldn’t even remember fondly.
Corrine acted like his silence was unfinished business instead of a door he’d slammed and locked twice.
She’d been a bad decision made in a storm. A self-inflicted wound dressed up in ambition and availability. And the second he saw clearly—really clearly—he’d known. Sabine was the story. Always had been. Always would be.
So no, there wouldn’t be a shared car ride.
Not even an elevator ride if he could help it.
Adair slid into the driver’s seat, letting the leather hug him like it always did. He took one deep breath, then another, forcing the tension to roll off his shoulders like sweat. She didn’t matter. Not today.
Today, he had a woman to show up for. A future to anchor. A contract to help solidify.
First stop: her drink. He hit the usual café two blocks from her office. The fact that they remembered after such a long time said a lot about this place and why they loved it so much.
This wasn’t just a sweet gesture.
It was consistency.
It was I know you.
I remember what matters.
You are not alone in any of this.
He glanced at the time. Plenty of cushion before the signing. Sabine would already be there, probably checking the conference room setup, reviewing the deck one last time, making sure no one dropped the ball. She was always thorough like that.
Aderra was her baby. Her vision. Her whole damn revolution wrapped in tech and community innovation. And he got to be the one who helped protect it—legally, contractually, personally.
Adair pulled into her company’s private lot and parked in one of the reserved executive spaces. He grabbed the drink and checked the lid for her name then stepped out into the crisp air.
With every step toward the building, he felt it in his chest.
He wasn’t just reclaiming love.
He was reclaiming everything.
And he wasn’t about to fumble this time.
SABINE
Sabine stood near the head of the conference table, arms crossed loosely, eyes scanning the space for the third time in ten minutes.
Her laptop was connected to the monitor, slides queued up and ready.
The contracts were printed and stacked, tabs color-coded, pens arranged in a fan-like pattern beside them. Everything was in place.
But she kept double-checking anyway. She adjusted the angle of the notepads. Smoothed down the table runner—again. Moved the pitcher an inch to the left.
Her body was still, but her mind? Racing.
Not with panic.
With something closer to awe.
This was really happening.
Aderra was about to become official.
And she was…okay. No, more than okay. She was glowing. She could feel it even if she hadn’t dared look at herself in the mirror since this morning.
The door opened.
Sabine turned, and Harlan walked in, blazer slung over one shoulder like he’d just finished charming a room full of donors. His smile, relaxed and wide, spread the moment their eyes met.
“Well damn, boss lady,” he said, stepping closer. “You setting the whole stage like Beyoncé herself about to walk in?”
She grinned despite herself. “This is my Beyoncé moment.”
“It should be. You did this.” He gestured around the room. “This is you.”
“It’s a team effort.” Sabine shrugged, but her smile didn’t dim.
“Sure,” Harlan said, moving to the seat across from her and sitting casually. “Save all that humble bullshit for the team, but I know who the captain is.”
She gave him a look—half amusement, half warning—but he just chuckled, eyes warm as he studied her face.
“You’re glowing,” he said after a pause. “Like, seriously. You look happy as hell. Did y’all finally get that investor off your back or did lil man actually eat a full vegetable last night?”
Sabine let out a real laugh. “He ate half a carrot stick and demanded a popsicle as reward. So, close…but…I’m…I’m pregnant.”
Harlan’s gaze softened the moment the words left her mouth.
It took half a second. Maybe less. That trademark smirk fell into something more reverent.
The air in the room shifted, not with tension but tenderness.
He stood slowly, eyes never leaving hers as he stepped around the table and pulled her into a gentle embrace.
“Congratulations. Damn…” Then he leaned back just slightly and kissed her forehead like he’d done a hundred times before—after big wins, long nights, and impossible calls but this time it felt…
different. Bigger. Like even he knew it was a moment he wouldn’t get back.
He pulled away just enough to glance down, doing the thing most people did after finding out a woman was with child, staring at her stomach like it might grow before his eyes.
“There’s nothing to see…” Sabine laughed.
“Yet,” he grinned, eyes twinkling with something protective. “I’m happy for you, big Bine.”
“Thank you,” she rolled her eyes at the nickname, cheeks flushing. And for a moment, they just stood there, two people who had built something together, even if it wasn’t this. Even if it never would be. It was a moment of peace and light.
Harlan could’ve been something more. Maybe in another life. Maybe if her heart hadn’t been so tangled in someone else’s timeline but she knew now, it wasn’t regret she felt. Just gratitude.
For the way he showed up. For the softness he offered when she needed it most and for the fact that he let her go with grace. She was still a little scared. Still a little uncertain. Still bracing for grief.
But she was also…full.
Not just with new life.
But with possibility.
Hope.
Harlan looked at her a beat longer, his eyes trailing over her like he was committing her to memory. Tracing her image in his mind because he felt after this, their friendship would be done.
Then, with that classic lazy grin that always gave him away, he added, “That nigga lucky he got his shit together or that would've been me and you growing in there.”
“Harlan!” Sabine’s head dropped instantly as a laugh burst from her mouth, equal parts shock and bashfulness.
“I’m just saying,” he shrugged with both hands raised in mock surrender. “Don’t act like we didn’t have chemistry. You was just emotionally unavailable and your heart too loyal.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“And you’re glowing. I mean that. I’m happy for you.” His voice dipped into something more serious now, something grounded. “That man better know what he’s got and if he ever forgets again—”
“You’d take me with my babies, pregnant and all?”
“In a muthafuckin’ heartbeat, sheittttt…” Harlan drawled, hand over his chest like he was pledging allegiance. “I’d put y’all names in my will and on some trusts same day.”
Sabine snorted, trying not to laugh too loud.
“You ain’t gotta believe me,” he added, smiling softer now. “But you ever need reminding you still got it? You know where my office is.”
She looked down, that blush creeping up again. “You always know exactly what to say.”
“I know you enough,” he replied simply and that made her quiet. Because he did. Just not in the way that changed anything.
Harlan leaned back against the conference table, arms crossed, watching her with that same poised confidence that always put people at ease, even when it was laced with mischief at times.
“You gon’ be alright, Bine. Even with your lil boyfriend and arch nemesis in the same damn room.”
Sabine rolled her eyes, the laugh escaping before she could help it. “Please don’t call him that.”
“What? Boyfriend?”
“Yes,” she playfully slapped his arm. “Don’t be petty.”
“Alright, alright,” he grinned wide. “I’ll be respectful. Father of your child and lead on this extremely important contract.” He threw in air quotes for effect. “But I’m just sayin’…if it gets weird in here, don’t be afraid to blink twice. I’ll body block whoever needs blockin’.”
“I’m not blinking for you, Harlan.”
He winked. “Yet.”
Sabine shook her head, her smile sticking this time. “Thank you. For this. For always making me laugh when I should probably be panicking.”
“You got this. I’ve never seen you more in your element.
Glowing, pregnant, powerful…shit, you’re unstoppable.
” He straightened and gave her a small, sincere nod.
“You’re gonna be okay. Especially with that man back in your corner.
I don’t like him because I don’t know him, but I respect the shift I see in you because of him. ”
“Thank you.”
“Anytime, Big Bine.”