Page 100 of IRL: In Real Life
Big pink blooms, open and fragrant, their petals curling back soft and dramatic. That sweet, deep floral scent rose above the candle smoke just enough to catch me right in the chest.
“You remembered,” I said quietly.
Micah looked at me like the answer should have been obvious. “Of course I did.”
That alone made me want to kiss him stupid before the night had even properly started.
Then another surprise stepped out of the kitchen.
A tall Black man in chef whites came through carrying two small appetizer plates, looking between us with the ease of somebody who knew he was helping set up a memorable night and had no intention of acting awkward about it.
“Talia,” Micah said, taking my purse from my shoulder and sliding the strap over the back of a chair, “this is Chef Elijah Ware.”
Chef Elijah gave me a warm nod. “Good evening.”
I looked at Micah. “You have a chef.”
“Tonight I do.”
That made me laugh, soft and helpless with surprise. “You are really showing out.”
He took one step closer, eyes moving over my face like he was measuring my reaction carefully.
“I wanted you here,” he said simply.
That moved through me deeper than it had any business moving through me in the first thirty seconds of being inside his condo.
Chef Elijah set the plates down and gave us just enough time to settle before he disappeared back into the kitchen.
Micah pulled my chair out for me.
I sat.
The candlelight moved over the stargazers, over the table settings, over the city in the windows behind him. Everythinghad that dusky, golden look rooms only got when the evening had decided it was on your side.
And sitting there across from him, I could feel the effort of the night.
Not effort in the bad way.
Care.
Thought.
Intention.
All the things that let a woman know she had not just been included. She had been considered.
The first plate was a lump crab cake over a little fennel and citrus salad with lemon aioli dragged under it in one creamy swipe. Light enough not to make a woman tired. Rich enough to feel special.
Micah watched my face when I took the first bite, and I had to close my eyes for half a second before I looked back up.
“Oh,” I said.
Chef Elijah’s voice floated from somewhere behind me. “That’s what I was hoping for.”
That got a laugh out of all three of us.
Micah sat back in his chair, looking pleased with himself. “I know good help.”
