Page 22 of Before I Say I Don't
“Wait, no. Glitter follows you into your next life. Never mind.”
“Thank you,” Danica expressed solemnly. “You were almost banished.”
We reviewed the schedule once again; a sense of urgency tinted the air as hair and makeup were set to begin promptly at 6:30 a.m.
“Not 6:45. Not 6:31,” Danica stressed, her hands planted firmly on her hips. “If you’re late, I promise your style will look like you got ready in the backseat of a Lyft, and I won’t be photoshopping you.”
Diane, sitting with her legs crossed and her chin lifted defiantly, seemed poised to share an announcement that nobody asked for.
"My son has been putting in so many hours! He’s missing out on everything! He’s been doing so much for the wedding, you know,” she said, her tone dripping with pride.
Diane, however, held the faintest inkling that her son was merely doing the bare minimum.
“Has he now?” Danica taunted.
“Yes!” Diane’s smile was all pearls and delusion. “According to him, Kamira hasn’t had to come out of her pocket for anything… not even her dress!”
Danica coughed—the kind of cough people fake when they’re trying not to holler—and I knew it was to hide her true reaction. Like me, she was grappling with the absurdity of Diane’s fairy tale.
“Ah,” Serena chimed in melodically, her expression brightening as if she’d just received the best news.
Girl, you don’t know the half,I wanted to say.And the half you do know ain’t even the expensive part.
I kept my face neutral, but inside, my mind was furiously shaking its head, thinking,Tell him when he shares that story again, he should definitely mention the part where the ‘good man’ asked me if I could put the caterer on Afterpay… or when he thought ‘covering the wedding’ merely meant tipping the DJ.
“He’s a good man, Savannah. A good man,” Danica teased, sliding into a perfect imitation of the lady fromWaiting to Exhale.
The room erupted in laughter—big, messy laughter—but only Danica and I knew the real reason behind the joke.
If Viangelo keeps up this charade for his mother as if he is the sole financier of this grand event, I’ll be left with no choice but to start distributing receipts like they’re party favors.
I checked my phone out of habit.
No messages from Viangelo… of course.
Jayla was unusually silent. Typically, the most vocal in our group, she sat there nursing her ginger ale and absentmindedly picking at a plate of crackers.
“You good?” I asked her gently.
“Yeah… just got a b-bit of a headache,” she replied, her words slightly slurred as she pressed her fingers to her temples.
Suddenly, Jayla shot up from her chair, her knee colliding with her glass, sending it tumbling to the floor with a loud clatter. She clapped a hand over her mouth, wide-eyed and panicked.
“Bathroom—” she squeaked, bolting from the room before anyone could react.
For a brief moment, we all froze.
The bathroom door slammed shut, followed by the unmistakable sounds of vomiting—the sound that twists your stomach in sympathy.
Serena winced and let out a breath, “Whew."
Lena’s hand hovered uncertainly near her glass, then hesitated before dropping back to her lap. Zaria glanced at her phone, as if it held the power to distract her from the unfolding moment. Kendall’s gaze flicked to me, then back to the closed bathroom door, and finally returned to my face. Her expression gave off more nervousness than concern.
Diane stood up abruptly, trying to take charge of the situation.
“I can get her some water from the kitchen, perhaps?” she volunteered.
Danica scoffed lightly, shaking her head.
