Page 4 of Before I Say I Don't
After the last adjustments were pinned and the dress was zipped into its garment bag, Danica walked me to my car. As we stepped outside, the sweltering August heat enveloped me as I cradled my wedding dress in my arms. It was finished, perfect, and finally mine to take home, ready for one of the most important days of my life.
I had chosen September for the wedding with intention. It promised a mild climate, a tender balance between warm days and cool evenings—neither too hot nor too cold, just that ideal, inviting in-between that made a beautiful backdrop for the celebration of love.
“Kam,” Danica started, leaning against my car door, “I love you. You know that, right?”
I nodded. “Of course.”
“Good… because I need you to really hear me when I say this. A mother-in-law like Diane is going to make your life hell if you let her.”
I sighed. “Danica?—”
“I’m not trying to ruin yourexcitement,” she went on. “I just need you to remember something:you’rethe one marrying Viangelo, but that lady will try to marry both of you. She’ll want to be in every decision and have an opinion on everything. And if you’re not careful, she’ll make you feel like a guest in your own marriage.”
I looked at her, searching for the right words. “You don’t think she just wants to be involved?”
Danica’s expression softened, but only slightly.
“Kam, she’s not just involved, she’s invested… and not in the sweet, supportive way. You’re a lawyer; you know the difference between someone adding value and someone adding control.”
I hesitated before responding.
A part of me felt compelled to defend Diane, convinced that her fussing stemmed from genuine excitement and that she only wanted what was best for me, much like Danica did. However, another part of me—the part that had witnessed the tension at the boutique and the heat of their past quarrels—understood that Danica was speaking from hard-earned experience.
Danica gently touched my arm, her eyes serious yet warm. “I’m telling you this because I want you to be truly happy and... I never want you to forget that you already have asisterwho loves you for who you are. You don’t have to earn Diane’s approval or anyone's, for that matter."
I swallowed, the weight of her words settling in my chest. “I love you too, Danica.”
Her smile blossomed, bright and genuine, before she stepped back, creating a small distance between us.
“Good. Now, go treat yourself to a cake or something sweet to celebrate your win. Hopefully, your fiancé will be there to help you devour it. And if he’s too busy, save a slice for me, your nephew, and niece. I love you.”
“I love you too, sis,” I replied.
When Danica drove away, I stood by my car a moment longer, staring at the perfect blue sky.
A month from that day, I’d walk down the aisle in my beautiful, not to mention, expensive dress.
As much as I wanted to believe Danica was overreacting, her words clung to me like the hem of a gown brushing the floor.
“Stop being paranoid, Kamira,” I muttered to myself, forcing my shoulders to relax. “Everything will be fine. We’ll get married, and maybe—just maybe—we can all be one big happy family.”
I took a slow breath, trying to quiet the unease curling in my stomach.
“You prayed for this man. God sent him to you… so he has to be the one.”
But that’s the thing about prayers… they don’t always return with what you asked for. Sometimes, God hands you exactly what you needed to see—like the red flag you tried to paint white. Or sometimes he delivers a lesson you didn’t know you needed… and a man you should’ve never let past hello.
I had gone all out for dinner—juicy, pan-seared ribeye steaks cooked to perfection, loaded baked potatoes piled high with cheddar, bacon, sour cream, and chives, and a side of creamy cheese broccoli. I cooked those kinds of meals when I wantedthe room to smell like effort, luxury, and love all at once. I even broke out the good wine glasses Danica gifted me last Christmas.
It wasn’t just dinner; it was my way of celebrating my win in court—a little victory feast for two when one of us achieved something big.
I’d even picked up a small Walmart cake on the way home—per Danica’s suggestion. It had white frosting and black flowers withCongratulations Kamirawritten in cheap cursive icing. It wasn’t fancy, but it made me smile when I saw it in the display case.
Viangelo said he’d be home by six. Despite never telling him what I had planned, six o’clock came and went.
By 6:45, I was halfway through a glass of wine; the deep crimson liquid swirled as I tried to convince myself that traffic could’ve been his reason for being late. By 8:30, I hadn’t received a single call or text… just silence. The carefully prepared dinner had cooled in the fridge, and the cake sat lonely on the counter, still encased in its plastic dome, as if waiting for a celebration that would never come.
Sitting on the couch, I stared at the ticking of the clock, each second gnawing at my insides.
