“Daddy!” she hissed, cheeks going hot.
Magnolia straightened slowly, her gaze drifting over to Meadow with the softest recognition. It wasn’t full, but it was enough.
“Baby… come dance,” Magnolia called out.
Meadow blinked fast, her throat tightening at the unexpected clarity in her mother’s voice. She reached for Zaire’s wrist before she could think twice. “C’mon,” she whispered.
He followed without hesitation.
Ray stepped aside, still holding Magnolia’s hand. “Y’all take center stage. We retire anyway.”
Meadow rolled her eyes. “Daddy, please.”
“I said what I said,” Ray teased, guiding Magnolia to his chest again. “It’s called passin’ the baton.”
Zaire slipped behind Meadow, hands finding her hips like they belonged right there. The music washed over them, warm and familiar.
“You know how to slow dance?” Meadow teased softly.
Zaire scoffed. “I’m from Cali. We invented slow cool.”
“I don’t even know what that is.”
He nudged his nose against her cheek, voice sliding over her skin like velvet. “It’s this right here,” he murmured, pulling her back against him, swaying them both into the rhythm as if his body had been waiting to align with hers.
Meadow sucked in a quiet breath. His warmth draped around her. His palms were steady. His chest pressed against her back. His chin brushed her shoulder.
She wasn’t prepared.
Ray hooted from across the yard. “Okay, Zaire! I see you tryna show out!”
Zaire ignored him.
Meadow didn’t.
“Daddy, hush!” she yelled, but her voice cracked from how flustered she was.
Magnolia giggled again, holding onto Ray like the world made perfect sense for the first time all week.
Zaire lowered his voice. “You good?”
“Yeah…”
“Lyin’ Ass.”
He nudged her waist, guiding her through a slow turn until she was facing him. His hands slid down and settled on the back of her thighs, pulling her closer. “You blushing.”
“I’m Black, Zaire,” she snapped.
“And?” His thumb stroked her hip. “I can still see it.”
She tried not to smile. Of course she failed miserably.
Zaire dipped his forehead to hers. “Just dance with me, Marai.”
Her knees weakened at the name…they always weakened when he called her that.
She let him take her hands and guide her into a slow, rocking sway that fit perfectly with the Isley Brothers’ harmonies floating across the yard.
