Page 2 of Before I Say I Don't
“Hey, sisssssss,” I greeted, as I stepped out into the hallway outside the courtroom.
"Okay. This sounds good. How did it go?” My sister Danica’s voice came through, tinged with a mix of curiosity and that unmistakable big-sister pride she wore like a badge.
“We won!” I squealed, the happiness spilling out in my words. “Four point seven million in damages!”
The victory felt even sweeter as I shared it with her.
I could almost hear her smile. “Yassssssss! You go, baby sister. You know Mom would be?—”
“So proud,” I cut in gently. “I know. I thought about her when they read the verdict.”
There was a beat of silence—not awkward, just heavy in the way only certain moments could be between us. Then Danica cleared her throat, sliding right back into her usual no-nonsense tone.
“Well, we will be celebrating this weekend! So pick a place! But victory or not, don’t forget we have your dress fittingtoday!”
I froze mid-step, my heels clicking against the marble.
“Dress fitting?” I asked, in an almost puzzled tone.
“Yes, Kaaaaaaam,” she replied, drawing out my name like she was scolding a child. “As in the one you’ve rescheduledtwicealready because of work! It’s at four and I’m not letting you push it again!”
Was I under a lot of pressure? Absolutely.
Between court cases, client meetings, and wedding planning, I’d been moving at a hundred miles an hour for months.
I closed my eyes and exhaled. “I completely forgot it was today… but I’ll be there.”
“You better!” she playfully warned. “You only have one month before you walk down that aisle, and if you think I’m letting you show up with a dress that doesn’t fit like it was poured onto you, you’ve lost your damn mind! I’m not just your sister, Kam; I’m your wedding planner, your stylist, and the only person standing between you and a tragic bridal moment that will haunt you for the rest of your life!”
I chuckled at how dramatic she was being.
But that was Danica in a nutshell—equal parts blunt and brilliant, with a side of crazy if someone got on her bad side. She could turn a disaster into a masterpiece with nothing but her willpower, a hot glue gun, and a prayer, but she’d also curse a person out while doing it. Danica was the kind of sister who’d fight my battles, drag my enemies, then fix my hair so I’d look good in court. And as much as I’d never say it to her face without her making a big deal out of it, I trusted Danica more than anyone on this earth. I loved her in that deep, unconditional way that came from surviving life’s storms together—even if she sometimes drove me crazy in the process.
“I’ll be there. I promise,” I assured her.
“Sounds good! I love you. I’ll see you in a couple of hours.”
“I love you too.”
When the call ended, I slipped my phone back into my bag and leaned against one of the cold marble columns, letting the victory of the case settle in alongside the exhilarating reality of my upcoming wedding.
Four weeks…just four weeks until I became Mrs. Viangelo Grant.
The thought filled me with a rush of excitement, yet an undercurrent of anxiety swept through me at the same time.
Viangelo.
Just the mere act of saying his name in my mind brought an involuntary smile to my lips. We had met when I was twenty-eight, at an elegant charity gala that Danica had practically dragged me to,insistingthat I needed a night out. He was standing at the bar in a perfectly tailored navy suit, talking with a group of men, but somehow still noticing me the second I walked in.
We talked for hours that night. Our conversation flowed so easily that I forgot about the glass of champagne in my hand until it went warm. Viangelo had this confident, deliberate way of speaking, like every word was placed exactly where it was supposed to be. By the end of the evening, I knew without a doubt that it wouldn't be our last encounter.
And it wasn’t.
I saw himagain… and again, until “seeing him” turned into dating, and dating turned into love, and love turned into him slipping a diamond ring on my finger last Christmas Eve.
That past year and a half with him had been a blur of late-night dinners, weekend trips, and talks about building a future together. I’d become so engrossed in advancing my career that I nearly overlooked the essential part of my life where I was supposed to be building a home. In many ways, Viangelo felt like my anchor, a comforting presence that brought balance to my often chaotic life.
However, Danica wasn’t quite as convinced about our relationship’s stability. She wasn't 'sold' by his charm. Danica loved me—fiercely—but she’d always been protective, and her instincts sharpened after losing our mother.
