Chapter 8
Mars
Friday came quicker than I expected.
I was grabbing my keys from the counter, sliding my phone into my bag, already halfway out the door when it buzzed in my hand.
Jalen.
A smile threatened before I could stop it. I stared at his name for a second, then answered. "Hello."
"What are you up to?"
Straight to it. I leaned my hip against the counter. "I didn't realize we were in the random phone call stage."
His laugh was low and easy. "I can't just call you?"
"You can. I just didn't know that's what we were doing now."
There was a smile in his voice when he answered.
"I'm checking in."
"On what?"
"On you."
That quieted me more than it should have.
I glanced down at my purse.
"I'm fine. I'm actually heading out."
"Where?"
"Hair. Nails. Shopping. I'm going to blow off some steam before I voluntarily enter a stadium tomorrow."
"Good."
The confidence in his answer made me suspicious.
"Good?"
"I'll send a driver."
I stopped mid-step.
"No."
"Yes."
A laugh escaped me.
"I have a car."
"I know."
"Then why would you send a driver?"
"So you don't have to think about parking. Traffic. Getting from place to place."
"I can handle all of those things."
"I know you can."
"Then what exactly are we talking about?"
"I'm trying to make your day easier."
"I didn't ask you to."
"I'm offering."
There was something steady about the way he said it.
Not controlling. Not pushy. Just certain.
"I don't need chauffeuring."
"I know."
Silence settled between us for a moment.
Then—
"Amara."
The way he said my name made me pause.
My heart fluttered in a way I immediately found irritating.
"You're stepping into my world tomorrow," he said quietly. "Let me do something small."
I closed my eyes and rested my forehead against the door.
That was unfair.
Completely unfair.
Because now it didn't feel like a favor.
It felt thoughtful.
"You're not taking no for an answer, are you?"
"No."
I laughed softly and shook my head even though he couldn't see it.
"You're impossible."
"I've heard that before."
"Fine."
Victory.
I could hear it in his silence.
I hesitated before giving him my address.
He didn't react and didn't make it weird. He just simply said someone would be there shortly.
Like it was the most normal thing in the world.
When the call ended, I stood there for a moment staring at my phone.
This was completely unnecessary, but maybe, just maybe, I could allow myself to enjoy it.
If I was going to spend tomorrow publicly attached to Jalen Carter's name, I might as well accept a few perks along the way.
At least that's what I told myself.
My phone buzzed twenty minutes later.
The driver is outside.
I stared at the message for a second before walking over to the window and staring downstairs from my high rise.
A sleek black SUV sat waiting at the curb below.
I let out a quiet laugh and shook my head.
What are you doing, Mars?
That was becoming a question I asked myself a lot lately.
A week ago, if someone had told me Houston's star quarterback would be sending a private driver to shuttle me around the city, I would've laughed in their face.
Somewhere between the late-night phone calls, easy conversations, and ridiculous publicity strategy sessions, I had started looking forward to hearing from him.
That realization alone was enough to make me grab my purse and head downstairs before I could think too hard about it.
The SUV door opened before I reached it.
The driver stepped out, composed and professional, as if chauffeuring random women around Houston on behalf of professional athletes was part of his daily routine.
"Ms. Sinclair."
I paused slightly.
I still wasn't used to being addressed that way.
"Yes?"
"Mr. Carter asked me to take you wherever you need to go today."
Of course he did.
I climbed into the backseat, the leather cool against my skin.
The interior smelled expensive.
Everything about this felt expensive.
"River Oaks," I said. "I'm picking someone up first."
"Yes, ma'am."
The drive was smooth and quiet. The city moved past the windows while my thoughts moved even faster.
I told myself not to overthink it.
When we pulled up outside Nia's condo, she was already waiting on the curb.
The second she spotted the SUV, a grin spread across her face.
"Oh."
I immediately knew I was in trouble.
The driver stepped out and opened the door for her.
She slid in beside me and looked around like she'd just entered a luxury hotel.
"So we're doing this."
"Relax."
"No."
She pointed at me.
"You enjoy this. You deserve it."
Before I could argue, the driver extended a small envelope toward me.
"Mr. Carter asked that you use this."
My stomach sank.
I already knew I wasn't going to like whatever was inside.
I opened it.
A black card rested neatly inside.
No note.
No message.
Just his last name printed across the front.
Carter.
The driver cleared his throat.
"All expenses today are to be charged there."
I immediately held it back toward him.
"No. That's not necessary."
Before the driver could respond, Nia snatched it from my hand.
"Thank you," she said smoothly, sliding it directly into her purse.
"Nia."
She nudged my shoulder.
"Do not start."
"I can pay for my own clothes."
"I know you can."
"Then why would I use his card?"
She looked genuinely confused.
"Because he offered."
"That's not the point."
"It never is with you."
The driver stared straight ahead as if none of this conversation was happening.
Professional.
"Let the man do something nice for you."
"It's not about money."
"I know."
For once her voice softened.
"It's about letting somebody show up for you."
That landed a little harder than I expected.
I looked out the window before she could see my reaction.
The truth was, I wasn't used to people showing up for me.
Not like this.
Not without expecting something in return.
Jalen somehow managed to make thoughtful gestures feel easy.
As if he'd never considered there might be another option.
I hated how much I liked that.
"Take us to The Galleria," Nia said confidently.
The driver nodded.
A second later, we pulled away from the curb and into traffic.
The Galleria was busy in a way that never felt rushed. People drifted from store to store carrying shopping bags that probably cost more than some car payments. The fountains sparkled. Music floated through the open corridors. Everything looked effortless.
Nia reached for the racks immediately.
I let my fingers skim fabrics as we moved through store after store. Soft knits. Crisp cotton. Linen. Silk. Things that looked beautiful on hangers and completely different on actual bodies.
I grabbed a few pairs of pants, several blouses, and more shoes than I needed before deciding I was officially done.
If I had it my way, everything would be ordered online and delivered directly to my front door in neat little boxes.
Unfortunately, some things needed to be tried on.
Especially with a petite hourglass figure like mine.
The black card appeared every time we reached a register.
I still wasn't comfortable with it.
Nia was.
Very comfortable.
By the third store, she'd started handing it over before I could object.
The worst part was that every time I considered putting my own card down, I could practically hear her voice.
Let the man do something nice for you.
I hated when she was right.
Afterward, we wandered through the district without rushing.
The sun hung high overhead.
People moved around us.
Conversations blended together.
The driver lingered at a respectful distance, never hovering, never intruding.
Once we arrived to the Salon, the scent of hair products lingered in the air while blow dryers hummed in the background.
For the first time all afternoon, my shoulders relaxed.
Tasha greeted me with a hug and immediately started talking about everything except the internet.
If she'd seen the photos, the blogs, or the speculation, she didn't mention any of it.
I appreciated that more than she probably realized.
For the next hour, I let someone else take over.
By the time she finished, my hair fell straight and glossy down my back, the ends curled just enough to create soft movement.
I turned my head slightly and watched it shift over my shoulder.
Perfect.
The television mounted above the mirrors switched from commercials to one of those celebrity gossip shows that lived for rumors, relationships, and public speculation. The kind of show I normally ignored without a second thought.
I wasn't paying attention until Jalen's face suddenly filled the screen.
My heart dropped straight into my stomach.
A bright graphic flashed across the bottom.
The Buzz Report.
The host was talking animatedly, but the television was muted.
Then the photos of us appeared.
My breath caught.
Smack dab on the screen was Jalen and I Wednesday.
Oliver's.
The park.
A moment that was ours suddenly belonged to everyone else.
A picture of us walking hand in hand flashed across the screen.
Another of us laughing outside the bakery.
Then one inside Oliver's.
Then another sitting together on the bench across the street.
My stomach tightened.
Because we looked damn good together.
Not like two people participating in a publicity strategy.
We looked real.
Painfully real.
The camera caught moments I hadn't even realized were happening.
The way his hand rested comfortably around mine.
The way I smiled whenever he spoke.
The way I leaned toward him when he was talking.
The way he looked at me.
That was the one that got me.
The next photo lingered on the screen.
I was looking down at my coffee.
Jalen was looking at me.
The kind of look that would make a complete stranger assume he was already halfway in love.
My heart started beating so fast it was almost embarrassing.
I couldn't stop staring.
Another photo appeared.
The one where he'd reached over and wiped chocolate from the corner of my mouth.
I immediately looked away.
Heat climbed up my neck.
"Oh my God," Nia whispered.
I glanced toward her.
She was already watching me.
A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.
"Are you okay? she mouthed silently.
I swallowed.
Then nodded.
Barely.
My eyes drifted back toward the television.
Thankfully, nobody else seemed interested.
The two women who had been sitting nearby were at the wash bowls with their stylists.
Tasha was focused entirely on organizing products at her station.
The television might as well have been invisible.
No one was paying attention.
Except me and Nia.
Each image seemed to tell a story that felt very different from the one I'd been repeating to myself.
I stared at the screen a moment longer before looking away.
Tomorrow suddenly felt much closer than it had an hour ago.