Chapter 36
OVER THE RAINBOW(S)
The door clicked shut behind him with a soft snick.
Adair leaned back against it for just a second, eyes closed, breath catching in his chest before he could stop it.
He wasn’t crying, not the kind that hurt but tears still slipped, slow and warm, down both cheeks as he smiled.
He wiped at his face with the back of his hand, then turned toward the waiting room.
They were all there.
Pam pacing, Aunt Terry on her second cup of vending machine coffee mixed with whatever she kept in her purse. Narri sitting but bouncing her knee like she was about to combust while Tate rubbed her back.
When they saw him, everything stilled. He stepped forward slowly. Swallowed once and smiled.
“They’re here,” he said, voice thick with emotion. “They’re here.” Adair laughed through another tear, shaking his head. “Two girls,” he said finally. “Two beautiful baby girls.”
It had come as a shock to everyone when they found out they wouldn’t just be blessed with another baby but two.
Twins. Sabine had carried them to thirty-four weeks before going into sudden labor on a cloudy Thursday afternoon while at the new offices of Aderra.
And somehow—against every worry, every fear—they arrived safely through vaginal delivery.
No complications. Each barely three pounds, but strong.
Breathing on their own. The doctor assured them both girls were perfectly healthy, just small which was normal for multiples.
They just needed time to grow. To fill out but they were whole. And beautiful. And theirs.
The room erupted.
Narri hollered. Aunt Terry slapped Reeka’s shoulder, and she jumped out of her sleep. Pam sat down fast like her knees gave out, then just started praising God.
They hadn’t known the genders—not even them. Sabine had insisted they keep it a surprise. So, when the doctor said, “girl”—once. Then again. It hit them all at the same time—double the joy, double the awe.
Adair knew exactly what his family was feeling in that moment. That moment cracked everyone wide open. Not just because the babies were healthy, but because the universe had doubled down on blessing them.
“Two girls,” Adair repeated, like he still couldn’t believe it. “Three pounds each, but healthy and strong…and so beautiful.”
“She okay?” Narri asked softly.
Adair nodded, his voice catching again. “She’s perfect. Tired. Emotional but perfect.”
“She’s ready for y’all,” a nurse peeked in, her smile kind. “Only one at a time, for now.”
Adair looked to his mother first. Pam was already halfway to her feet before he even nodded. “Come on, Ma. You first.”
Narri let out a fake sob. “Of course. Take the old people first,” she mumbled jokingly, and Pam threatened to kick her ass.
“Girl,” Aunt Terry waved her off. “Let that woman go meet her grandbabies. You next, damn.”
Adair smiled as Pam hurried to his side, holding tight to his arm like her knees were jelly. Together, they walked the short hallway and pushed through the door.
Sabine was sitting up slightly in the bed, hair pulled back in a soft puff, a pale pink blanket draped over her lap.
Her eyes were swollen but bright, glowing with something more than just motherhood—peace.
And in each of her arms was a baby, swaddled tight in matching cream blankets with the tiniest hats on their heads.
Pam gasped. Covered her mouth. Then cried like she was trying to hold it in but couldn’t. “Oh God. Oh God, baby, look at them. Look at them.”
“Come meet your granddaughters, Momma.”
Pam came close like she was approaching royalty. “Lord, look at these beautiful angels. I—” she stopped, voice breaking again. “Lord have mercy, they here. Thank you, God.”
Adair sat on the edge of the bed, careful not to jostle Sabine too much, and looked down at both girls. One yawned, her little mouth puckering like a kiss. The other squirmed slightly, hand twitching free of her blanket, grazing her mommy’s wrist.
“They already got lil attitudes,” Sabine smiled. “You see that?”
“I see it,” Pam whispered, still crying. “They gon’ run y’all ragged. And I can’t wait to help.”
Adair reached carefully, slipping his hands beneath the baby in Sabine’s right arm, the one who’d yawned, then clenched her tiny fist like she was already tired of everybody’s shit.
“Hold on,” Pam said, already walking toward the sink in the corner. She pulled paper towels down with quick hands and washed thoroughly, scrubbing like she was about to enter surgery.
Sabine and Adair both smiled at one another. Once Pam dried her hands and came back over, arms open and trembling, Adair gently placed the baby into them.
It was like passing off a blessing.
Pam cradled her close, already rocking. “Oh, baby girl,” she whispered, overwhelmed. “You don’t even know how much you were prayed for.”
The baby made a small sound—soft, breathy. Almost like she recognized the voice.
Pam melted. “That’s right,” she cooed. “You know your Granny. You know me.”
Adair glanced back at Sabine, and the look she gave him cracked something open inside his chest. It was the same look she wore in the delivery room. That look that said: We did it.
And they had.
Twice.
Pam was still whispering blessings to the baby in her arms, rocking gently and humming something that sounded like a lullaby, when the door creaked open again.
Not a nurse.
Just Narri.
Poking her head in like she was doing something she wasn’t supposed to but very much wasn’t sorry about.
“I couldn’t wait,” she whispered, eyes wide with awe and already brimming with tears. “I tried. I really did.”
Tate followed behind her, clearly not a part of the plan but holding two big-ass gift bags with “WELCOME LITTLE ONES” scrawled across the front in glitter. “I told her to wait,” he mumbled.
“Look at ‘em,” Narri said, inching closer. “Look at these little princesses!” She clutched her chest, then fanned her eyes. “They are so beautiful, Bine.”
“Shit, I helped,” Adair inserted, making them laugh.
“Boy, hush. You did the easy part. She the one who almost split in two.”
“Literally,” Pam agreed.
Tate stepped up beside Narri and gently set the gift bags on the little table near the window.
He didn’t say much, but the way he looked at the twins said enough.
He and Narri had just welcomed another son a few months prior, so this feeling was all too familiar, and he was happy for his best friend to receive this blessing again. Twice over.
Narri moved to the bed, hands already stretching out toward the other baby.
“Wash your hands,” Pam called without even looking up and Narri hit the sink immediately.
“Clean as a whistle,” she showed them her hands. “Now give me my goddaughter.”
Adair reached down and lifted the second baby then placed her into Narri’s arms, adjusting her blanket with a gentleness that still surprised even him.
Narri’s whole face changed. All the attitude melted into a softness that only ever showed up when she was holding someone small.
“Oh my God,” she whispered. “You got lips. You got these little curls peeking already. You look like you been here before.”
Sabine chuckled. “That’s the one who came out looking dead at the nurse like, who told y’all to take me out?”
“She gon’ be a trip,” Narri said, rocking gently. “I can feel it.” The baby shifted in her arms and let out the tiniest whimper before settling again. “Y’all really did that,” Narri whispered then she looked up, eyes full and shining. “I’m proud of you, Bine. Of both of y’all. I mean it.”
Tate stepped closer, looking between the girls. “Damn near identical,” he said quietly. “But they got their own little vibe. You can tell.”
“Right,” Adair agreed.
Pam glanced over from the rocking chair, still gently bouncing the baby in her arms. “So,” she said, eyes bright with curiosity, “what we callin’ them?”
The room quieted again.
Sabine and Adair looked at each other. That soft, wordless moment between people who already knew the answer but had been waiting to say it out loud.
They hadn’t rushed it.
They wanted to see their faces first.
Feel it in their chest.
Let the names come with the weight they deserved.
Sabine turned her head toward the baby in Narri’s arms, her eyes softened. “She came first. Screamed loud, like she was clearing space for herself but she calmed quick. Like she knew what she came here to do.”
“That’s Rayne,” Adair declared his baby girl.
The room stilled.
Even the babies seemed to shift quieter in their blankets.
Rayne.
The name echoed and settled.
Pam gasped. Narri clutched the baby a little closer. Even Tate blinked hard and looked away.
Rayne—because she was the storm, and the cleanse.
Rayne—because before the rainbow, there’s always a fall.
Rayne—because she made room for the even more equal of a beauty to come next.
Sabine turned now to her other baby in Pam’s arms. This one had barely made a sound since birth. She just stared. A deep, soulful gaze that made Sabine feel like she was being seen—really seen—for the first time.
“She came second and didn’t even cry,” Sabine said. “Just opened her eyes like she’d been here before. Like she already understood what it meant to show up after it all.” She looked at Adair again. Her eyes were glistening now. His too.
Adair cleared his throat, “that’s Beau,” he said, smiling through it.
A single tear slipped down Pam’s cheek as she looked down at the baby in her arms. “My God,” she whispered. “Beau.”
Beau—because beauty didn’t always arrive loud.
Beau—because joy could be quiet.
Beau—because love could start over
Rayne & Beau.
Carried in a love that refused to die.
Symbols of hope and light after devastation but for Sabine and Adair, it was more than a name.
Rayne and Beau weren’t replacements. They were continuations. Of grief turned to grace.
The rain that made way for light.
Proof that love, when it’s real—blooms again.
Twice.
Somehow…they’d made it to the other side.
Together.
Carried by the flood.
Promised by the light.
Over the rainbow-s.
The end.