There was nothing fancy about the way he moved. It was real, solid...steady…made for them.
They danced the way Black men danced when they weren’t trying to impress anybody, just hold somebody.
Meadow rested her hands on his shoulders.
Zaire slipped one hand up her back and pulled her in just enough so her chest brushed his stomach. The height difference had him bending down to make the dance fit better.
“This your parents’ song ?“ he asked near her ear.
“Yeah…Daddy plays it a lot for her,” Meadow hummed, “says her memory holds onto music better than anything.”
The song was just as memorable to Meadow too. She’d watch her parents dance to it for every occasion. Ray used to play it to get out of the doghouse with Magnolia. Meadow only prayed that one day she’d have a song that played like a time machine in her heart too.
Zaire nodded. “Makes sense, song feels like love.”
She swallowed. “Yeah…it does.”
He leaned even closer, lips brushing the edge of her jaw. “You feel like love too.”
Meadow giggled, swooning on every word Zaire ever said to her. “Stop.”
“I’m not stoppin’ shit.”
“Zaire-”
He squeezed her waist just enough to silence her. “Let me handle this…all of it.”
Her chest tightened. Her eyes stung.
He felt it and pulled her into him even more.
Ray wasn’t paying attention anymore. Magnolia’s eyes were closed. The yard glowed with porch lights. Crickets hummed. The night felt safe.
Zaire kissed Meadow’s hairline. “I’ll always…come back to you,” he whispered.
“Can we go all the way together…” Meadow sung with a smile on her face.
“Sing it, baby,” Magnolia said, turning her head in their direction.
So Meadow did.
Zaire had just finished picking up balls and was heading toward the house when the sharp crack of gravel under tires cut through the air.
Ray lifted his chin from the porch, eyes narrowing toward the driveway.
Meadow was inside. She glanced up from the counter where she’d been trying to fold laundry in a way that looked normal, even though her mind hadn’t settled since the moment she’d left Magnolia’s room.
“Who that?” Ray mumbled, rocking once in his chair.
Zaire sat the bucket of balls down. He frowned, peering at the car.
The car came to a slow stop in front the house - a sleek, navy SUV with tinted windows, definitely not from around here.
Meadow’s spine straightened when she walked onto the porch. “You expecting somebody?”
Zaire shook his head, but before he could answer, the car door swung open and a short round woman with bright, glowing brown skin, a silk press laid flatter than reason, and a two-piece jogger set stepped out. Her nails were long and baby pink. Her jewelry glimmered even in the overcast light.
Ray blinked hard. “Lord…who is that?”
