Chapter 18 #4
Jalen turned down a quieter street, and the sounds of downtown Houston gradually faded behind us as the towering buildings gave way to charming storefronts with warm lights spilling through their tall windows.
The neighborhood felt cozy, almost tucked away from the rest of the city.
He slowed the truck before pulling into a parking space directly in front of one particular storefront.
I glanced through the windshield and immediately recognized the sign.
Maison Noir Chocolaterie.
My head snapped toward him.
"You brought me to Maison Noir?"
He smiled but didn't say a word.
"I've been trying to get in here for months," I said, looking back toward the storefront. "People online swear they have the best handmade chocolates in Houston."
I looked again and frowned slightly.
"But... they're closed."
Jalen's smile only grew.
That should have been my first clue.
He climbed out of the truck and walked around to my side before opening the passenger door.
I accepted his hand as I stepped onto the sidewalk, smoothing my dress before glancing back toward the storefront.
The lights inside glowed warmly against the evening sky, casting a golden light across polished display cases filled with chocolates that looked almost too beautiful to eat.
The street around us was unusually quiet, and aside from a couple strolling farther down the block, we were completely alone.
I looked back at him, narrowing my eyes playfully.
"What did you do?"
He slipped his hand back into mine.
"Come on."
He still hadn't answered my question.
Something told me he wasn't going to.
I let him lead me toward the front door anyway, my curiosity growing with every step.
The moment he opened my door, I noticed the lights inside the shop were glowing warmly but the street itself was almost empty. I stepped out, adjusting my purse as I looked through the window.
The place was beautiful. Dark wood counters. Glass displays. Soft lighting reflecting off rows of handmade chocolates that looked more like tiny pieces of art than dessert.
“You rented out Maison's for me, too?”
He shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal.
“I figured it was safer than letting you loose in a candy aisle since I've seen how much you like sweets.”
I laughed.
“Very funny.”
The door opened just as we reached it.
A tall man in a crisp white chef’s jacket greeted us with a warm smile.
“Good evening,” he said. “Mr. Carter. Ms. Sinclair.”
Jalen placed a light hand at the small of my back.
“Evening, Chef.”
“Everything is ready,” the chef said. “If you’ll follow me.”
Instead of leading us toward the chocolate displays we had seen through the window, he guided us around the side of the shop and through a set of French doors that opened onto a private back patio.
I stopped for a moment the second I stepped outside.
The space was beautiful.
Soft candlelight flickered across a small stone patio surrounded by climbing ivy and low greenery. String lights were draped overhead, giving the space a warm golden glow while smooth jazz played quietly somewhere nearby.
In the center of the room sat a single table set for two beneath the warm glow of hanging pendant lights.
A crisp white tablecloth draped elegantly over the table, crystal glasses sparkled beneath the soft lighting, and a simple arrangement of deep red roses rested in the center.
Candles flickered gently around the room, casting a warm glow that reflected against the glass display cases filled with handcrafted chocolates.
The rich scent of cocoa, vanilla, and warm caramel lingered in the air, making the entire space feel intimate without trying too hard.
The city outside suddenly felt a million miles away.
For a long moment, I couldn't find the words.
I slowly turned in a circle, taking in every thoughtful detail before looking back at him.
"You did all this?" I asked quietly.
Jalen shrugged like it wasn't nearly as extraordinary as it was.
"I wanted tonight to be about us."
My heart squeezed.
Jalen stepped forward and pulled out my chair with an easy smile.
"Sit."
I looked at him for another second before doing as I was told.
As I settled into my chair, I glanced around the patio once more, still trying to process everything he'd arranged.
"I don't even know what to say."
"You don't have to say anything."
He took the seat across from me without taking his eyes off mine.
"I was just hoping you'd like it."
I smiled, feeling my heart soften all over again.
"I don't like it."
His expression immediately changed.
"You don't?"
I shook my head, unable to hold back my smile any longer.
"I love it."
The relief that washed across his face made me laugh.
"I had you for a second," I teased.
"You definitely did."
The chef poured water into our glasses before placing the first course onto the table. A delicate plate of burrata with roasted tomatoes and fresh basil.
The smell alone made my stomach wake up.
"Enjoy your evening," the chef said before quietly excusing himself and leaving us alone once again.
For the first several minutes, we simply enjoyed each other's company as conversation flowed as naturally as if we'd known each other for years.
We talked about our week, laughed over stories from childhood, and teased each other about everything from football to reality television without ever running out of things to say.
The music drifting through the patio blended with the gentle rustling of the ivy climbing the stone walls, while the warm evening air carried the rich scent of chocolate from the kitchen behind us.
The entire restaurant seemed to disappear around us until it felt like we were the only two people there.
I realized I couldn't remember the last time a dinner had felt this peaceful.
There wasn't a schedule to keep or a meeting waiting afterward, and neither of us seemed interested in rushing the night along.
The candlelight danced softly across Jalen's face as he listened to me talk, smiling every so often at something I said or laughing quietly whenever I teased him.
What surprised me most was how attentive he was.
He never interrupted me, and he never looked over my shoulder or reached for his phone.
When I spoke, he looked directly at me with the kind of quiet focus that made me feel as though every word mattered.
I had spent years surrounded by people who listened only long enough to respond.
Jalen listened because he genuinely wanted to understand me.
That simple difference settled somewhere deep inside me.
The next course arrived a few minutes later as the chef carefully placed a perfectly cooked filet in front of each of us alongside roasted vegetables and a delicate sauce that smelled every bit as incredible as it looked.
I cut into the steak and took my first bite before closing my eyes for just a second as the flavors melted together.
The filet was perfectly tender, the vegetables were seasoned beautifully, and the sauce brought everything together in a way that made me pause.
"That good?" Jalen asked with an amused smile.
I nodded as I finished chewing.
"It might be one of the best meals I've ever had."
His smile widened.
"Very good," he said pleased. Which turned me on for some reasonAs dinner continued, I found myself watching him almost as much as I watched the city lights beyond the patio.
He never once checked his phone, glanced toward the entrance, or seemed distracted by anything happening outside our little corner of the restaurant.
For a man whose life revolved around constant attention, cameras, and endless demands on his time, he had an incredible ability to make me feel like I was the only person who existed that evening.
It wasn't the flowers, the private dinner, or the immense effort he had put into planning the night that stayed with me the most.
It was the way he made me feel seen, heard, and completely present in a world that had spent years making me want to disappear.
The low hum of the restaurant faded as he leaned in slightly across the table, his light brown eyes dancing with pure amusement.
“The one that says you've been thinking about dessert since the moment you sat down.”
A laugh escaped my lips before I could stop it, shattering the last bit of my professional composure.
As Jalen came around the table and pulled out my chair, I stood and smoothed the fabric of my dress before looking back up at him.
“I don't know what you're talking about, Mr. Carter.”
He raised an eyebrow, a slow, knowing smirk spreading across his face.
“Really?”
I smiled, trying my absolute best to look convincing, but the performance only lasted a few seconds against the steady intensity of his gaze.
“Fine,” I admitted, my voice dropping into a reluctant confession.
“I've been looking forward to dessert all night.”
He laughed, a deep, rich sound clearly pleased that he'd caught me so easily.
The funny thing was, he wasn't entirely wrong.
I had been thinking about dessert since we sat down, not just because of whatever the pastry chef had prepared, but because of the electric, unscripted tension that had been building between us all evening.
The strategy was completely behind us, and as his hand lightly found the small of my back to guide me out toward the car, I realized I didn't want the night to end anytime soon.
The only detail he had wrong was which dessert had occupied most of my thoughts.I stole a quick glance at him as he smiled at something the chef was saying, the soft, warm lighting of the restaurant accentuating the sharp line of his jaw and the relaxed confidence in his posture.
If I were being completely honest with myself, the most tempting thing I'd seen all evening hadn't been on the menu.It was the man standing beside me.