Page 21 of Before I Say I Don't
Danica and I exchanged a glance laden with mutual understanding. The only person who could’ve possibly spilled the beans about that private meeting was none other than her daughter, Kendall.
“This meeting is for bridesmaids, the matron-of-honor-slash-wedding-coordinator, and the bride-to-be only,” Danica articulated politely, drawing a clear delineation. “Parents weren’t included in the invitation.”
“Perhaps you didn’t formally invite me, but word has a way of getting around,” Diane replied, sliding into a chair with an air of ownership as if she were settling into her own living room. “I brought lemon bars,” she added, sounding pleased with herself.
Serena perked up immediately. “Okay… that's definitely a redeeming quality.”
Lena’s lips quirked with amusement while Kendall busily attended to her manicured nails.
Danica hadthatlook—the one that meant we were going to need a prayer circle after that meeting.
Diane placed a small, neatly wrapped gift bag on the table with the kind of flourish that said,prepare to be impressed. “Aren’t they darling?”
Danica, intrigued yet cautious, leaned forward and peeked into the bag. As she extracted a tiny mason jar filled with a golden orange concoction, her face remained neutral; however, I sensed her soul recoiling slightly.
“Is this… jam?” she inquired, bewildered.
“Peach preserves,” Diane replied with pride. “My sister handcrafts them. We could tie a delightful ribbon around it and attach a sticker that reads, ‘Spread the love.’”
“Okay, but that’s low-key cute. Country Pinterest, but cute,” Serena said.
“It is,” Danica conceded, placing the jar down as if it were a fragile thing that had just bombed an interview. “For a baby shower.”
Diane’s cheerful smile froze and tightened slightly, revealing her annoyance.
“Well. I suppose not everyone appreciates country charm," she retorted, her tone a smidge defensive.
“I appreciate cohesiveness,” Danica quipped. "This event is amodern classic. The favors are custom chocolate truffles with the initials pressed in gold. Already ordered. Already paid for. Already superior.”
Diane blinked at Danica, taken aback, then turned her eyes towards me, seeking validation.
I smoothed out my folder, eager to defuse the brewing tension with a neutralizing statement.
“It’s a lovely idea, Diane. Thank you for considering it.”
“Of course, sweetie,” she replied, squeezing my hand.
Turning her attention back to Danica, she asked, “Have you discussed the ceremony readings? If not, I have some excellent suggestions that could add a deeper, more spiritual layer to the event.”
“I’ve already selected the readings with the officiant,” Danica responded, her smile maintaining a veneer of politeness. “They are perfect as they are.”
Diane’s eyes flashed—oh, she’s loading her next shot. “And the music? Because I spoke to a talented young man about singingAve Maria?—”
“No,” Danica says before she even inhales. “This is a Black wedding in2025.We’re not starting it off like a scene fromThe Godfather.”
Serena burst out laughing, nearly tipping her chair over from the force of it. “Whew, okay!”
Diane inhaled like she was smelling shade and finding it high quality.
“You know, Kamira,” she said sweetly, “I just want to make sure this reflectsourfamily’s traditions.”
Danica’s pen didn’t stop moving. “Which family are we discussing? Because on her side, our tradition is to consult the planner. Yours, it seems, is to show up with unsolicited opinions and snacks!”
I pinched the bridge of my nose and chewed on a cube of cheese like it was a sedative.
We moved to the rehearsal dinner details. Diane wanted to invite “a few more people.” Danica explained that the guest list was not a beach towel; it would not stretch. Serena suggested a champagne tower “for the vibes.” Danica said she preferred functioning motor skills to vibes.
Kendall mentioned a photo booth with a glitter backdrop, then caught herself.
