Page 40 of Before I Say I Don't
Me: If that nigga says he “forgot,” about something again, tell him memory loss ain’t a disease; it’s a fuckin’ habit.
Two minutes passed. Then:
Kamira: Lol. I will. Thank you again for the other night and just being a listening ear.
Me: Anytime. And I mean that.
I slid the phone in my pocket and started walking without picking a direction. I was dangerous, what she did to the inside of me—how she made me want to fix a world I didn’t break. I wasn’t there to be her savior. I was there to be honest in a room where she was surrounded by actors. And if I found out Viangelo was playing her, I was ending that wedding myself.
In the weeks ahead, maybe I’d say yes to Marcus’s offer… maybe I wouldn’t.But tonight, if Kamira reached out, I’d book another room—no hesitation. Maybe even tell her to come to my crib. And if she didn’t? I’d keep a light on anyway.
Chapter Eight
KAMIRA
The office was unusually quiet for a Thursday afternoon—just the steady hum of the copier down the hall and the soft tap of my fingers on my phone.
Roman.
Just seeing his name light up my screen brought a smile to my face that I hadn’t felt in… God, I couldn’t even remember. We’d been texting all morning. Nothing over the line—just “How’s your day?” and “Did you eat?”—but it felt different... refreshing.
As I wrapped up my day at work, I made a spontaneous decision to swing by Jayla’s apartment. It was time for a friendly check-in. After all, we hadn’t had a real conversation since that tense day of the meeting.
When I arrived, Jayla opened the door, her phone glued to her ear, pacing back and forth as if she were in the middle of an urgent discussion. But the instant she caught sight of me; her voice dropped into a hasty whisper.
“Yeah… I’ll call you back,” she said, her tone clipped, quickly hanging up and slipping the phone into her pocket.
That was… odd.
“Hey, girl. Everything good?” she asked, voice pitched high, smile stretched too thin.
“Yesssssss. I just wanted to come and peek in on my best friend since we rarely talk these days.”
“Well, you know… you’re busy with your cases and all these days.”
And what’s your excuse? A phone works both ways, I wanted to say.
Jayla tacked on a little laugh. It wasn’t humor; it was irritation dressed up in sweetness.
I caught the shade.But instead of checking her right there in her own doorway, I let it slide and smiled,even though in my head I was thinking,Imagine being mad at me for having ambition. Some of us juggle caseloads, some of us juggle excuses.
“Yeah, I know. That’s why I decided to come over. And… I brought wine.” I produced the bottle, hoping it would lighten the mood.
Damn. A best friend who can’t even fake excitement for complimentary wine?
Something was off… way off. Normally, Jayla would’ve squealed “yasssssssss, bitch”and grabbed two glasses like we were about to host our own happy hour. That time, her smile barely budged.
“Girl, thank you, but I can’t drink. I still been feeling horrible since that meeting.”
I reared my head back in astonishment. “Really?”
“Yeah. I have an appointment next week. I’m staying away from liquor until then.”
“Understandable. More for me.” I lifted the bottle, watching her closely. “But I still need to talk to you about something.”
Jayla glanced over her shoulder like she was checking if someone else was about to bust out the kitchen. Then she stepped aside.
“Uh, yeah. Come in.”
