I said it with warmth, not play. It was admiration with boundaries and possession without disrespect. The words were bold, but my eyes stayed gentle, letting her feel desired without feeling consumed.
We said goodbye to everybody, and Nan pulled me in for a hug on the way out.
“She’s a good one, so don’t you mess this up.”
“I don’t plan on it. I’m marrying your grandbaby by the end of the year, just so you know,” I said. I didn’t even try to soften it. I didn’t need to. My spirit had already decided, and my mouth was just catching up
Her eyes watered. “I’m holding you to it.”
I nodded once, firm. “You should.”
The Velvet Juniper was on the corner of Ester and Hymes, like it knew it was special. There was deep charcoal brick, warm amber lights washing up the walls, and a brushed-gold sign catching the glow. The valet lane stood smoothly, the curbside traffic moved with patience, and the front doors opened and closed with quiet confidence. Inside, the air held cedar, vanilla, and that sharp, green note of juniper: fresh-grown, expensive. Black luxury had a home address, and tonight, I brought my baby to it like I was introducing her to a life she deserved.
There were emerald booths lining the walls, black-stained floors underfoot, and gold light fixtures hanging low. R&B floated through the room—H.E.R.,—just loud enough to feel and low enough to talk. Black art filled the walls, bold and tender at the same time, paintings of brown skin, crowns, hands, and history. The tables were set with black stone plates, gold flatware, and crystal glasses that caught the light and threw it back like little sparks.
Her whole face lit up when she stepped inside.
“Oh my goodness! I’ve heard so many good things about this place,” she said excitedly.
I filed that joy away in my memory bank. I wanted to see that look again. I wanted to be the reason she kept making that face—soft, surprised, pleased, like life finally decided to be kind.
The host, a young dude with too much confidence and not enough sense, looked my baby up and down before he remembered I was standing there. I saw it happen in real time, that quick pause, and split-second hunger in his eyes. I didn’ttense up, get loud, or make a scene. I just stepped into my own certainty. Protection didn’t have to be noisy to be effective.
“Evening,” he said.
“Evening,” I repeated, my tone stiff. “Eyes up, lil’ man. She’s taken.”
My voice stayed calm, but it carried weight. No anger, but ownership of responsibility and boundaries had been set.
He snapped his gaze to my face. “Yes, sir. My bad.”
He walked us to our table quickly.
I pulled her chair out, waited until she sat, then slid it in. The booth cushioned her like it knew she was precious. She opened the menu, her brown orbs scanning fast and eagerly, like she was excited to pick something for herself for once.
She caught me staring. “What?” she asked, smiling shyly.
“Nothing,” I said honestly and unashamedly. “I just like looking at you.”
She looked down quickly, her freckles warming again, and that little change in her face hit me deeper than it should’ve. She wasn’t used to being admired without being handled. I could tell. Her softness still flinched like it expected something selfish to follow. I wasn’t here for that. I was here to honor her. The waitress came and asked for our drink order.
“Ladies first,” I said.
“I’ll have the Velvet Kiss,” she said, voice soft but sure.
I nodded, impressed. “And I’ll take the Black Silk Old-Fashioned.”
She ordered the braised oxtail eggrolls and the blackened red snapper with citrus herb butter, coconut rice, and broccolini; while I settled for the Juniper butter cornbread bites and the bourbon butter ribeye with loaded mashed potatoes and green beans.
I loved that she didn’t pretend to be delicate by ordering a dry salad. She picked real food, food that filled you up, food youdidn’t nibble on like you were trying to prove you didn’t take up space by trying to be too cute. That told me everything I needed to know about her and about how comfortable she was with herself and me. She didn’t shrink or perform. She simply existed.
Our drinks came first.
“Let’s make a toast, love.”
She shot me an inquisitive glance but lifted her glass as well.
“What are we toasting to?” she asked.
