Page 15 of Before I Say I Don't
Danica’s nostrils flared. The “protector” in her rose like a tide.
“How long has this been going on?”
I hesitated. “About three months now.”
Her hand went straight to her hip. “And why am I just now hearing about this?”
“Because I don’t have proof of him actually… cheating. Just… suspicion… vibes… and patterns I don’t like,” I explained, the words tasting thin as paper.
“You feel this way, and youstillwant to marry him?”
Danica didn’t say it with judgment; she said it like she needed to know which gear to put her body in—attack dog or chauffeur.
“I don’t know,” I confessed, the honesty spilling out before I could stuff it back down. “I’ve planned so much. I’ve paid for so much. People are excited. And I?—”
My voice trailed because I didn’t want to sayI want it to be fineout loud. It sounded childish, like trying to will a storm away with nothing but a wish.
Danica blew out a breath, then surprised me by laughing—a quick, sharp one that snipped the tension.
“Sis, when have you ever cared about sunk costs? If you want to call it off, I’ll beecstatic.Hell, I’ll print ‘postponed’ cards in gold foil, hire a choir to hand-deliver them, and personally hand Angelo a commemorative ‘thanks for playing’ mug. I’ll call every vendor, cancel every chair, and eat that deposit for breakfast with a side of mimosas. Matter of fact—” she tapped her phone, “—I’ll even change my Instagram bio tofreelance wedding un-planner. Rates start at free for my sister!”
I laughed with her because the image of Danica joyfully canceling a wedding wasveryDanica.
“You’re silly.”
“Uh-huh. Sillyandready. Just say the word, sis.”
Danica turned, leaned her back against the car, and faced me fully.
“Listen to me—and hear me with your whole chest. You don’t marry potential. You don’t marry a man who keeps choosing mystery over clarity, and you damn sure don’t marry peace you have to beg for. Consistency is respect—not flowers, not captions, not what he says when y’all are good. If you have to negotiate your worth in the engagement, you’ll be doing calculus in the marriage.”
I swallowed, the words clicking into places inside me that had been empty shelves for weeks.
“I just don’t want to be paranoid.”
“Then don’t be,” Danica replied simply. “Be observant. There’s a difference. Pray, pay attention to data, and trust what youseeover what you’re told. Remember, Mama always said, ‘People will tell you they’re reliable, then show you they’re late’.”
I smiled despite the sting. “She did say that.”
“And don’t let fear of embarrassment keep you in something you gotta explain to yourself every night,” Danica added, softer now. “You are not a failure if you change your mind. You are a woman who loves herself more than an idea. Let God show you what’s meant to be seen. You don’t have to go looking under beds. Just stop excusing what’s in plain sight.”
A small lump settled in my throat. “I hear you; I really do.”
Danica nodded, satisfied, then reached and smoothed a curl that had escaped my bun like she used to before school.
“And Roman? That man has always been a door marked ‘safety.’ It doesn’t mean you need to walk through it. But it’s nice to know a fire exit exists,” she winked.
I tried to glare at her and failed. “You’re a mess.”
“I’m a prophet,” she declared, lifting her chin.
We stood there a minute more, letting the sky dim a shade, letting Mama’s birthday settle around our shoulders like a shawl.
“Okay,” Danica said, eventually clapping her hands softly once, bringing the moment to a close the way she did meetings. “Logistics. Make sure your girls are on time,Saturday, for the meeting.On time, Kam,” she stressed. “I needeveryonepresent so we can finalize the list, seating, and the day-of schedule. Jayla, Kendall, and even that Zaria chick you swore you needed as a ‘maybe’, need to be on time.”
“I’ll text everyone tonight. What time again?”
“Ten a.m.! We’re running it like a drill! If they’re late, they’ll be volunteering for tasks they don’t want! That includes you!”
