Page 42 of Before I Say I Don't
“What’s going on?”
“I just left from Jayla’s house,” I hesitated. “I told her about the suspicions about Angelo and she pretty much just brushed it off instead of giving me any real friendly advice.”
Danica rolled her eyes. “Well, whatdidshe say?”
“That maybe it was wedding blues.”
Danica sighed. “And how’d that make you feel?”
“Like I should’ve just kept the shit to myself,” I admitted.
“Well, let me say this,” Danica began, her voice steady but warm, like she’d been waiting for me to bring this up. “If you feel like Jayla’s moving funny—and honestly, from what I’ve seen, she is—then you need to pull back. We don’t beg for friendships, sis. The same way God removes people for our protection, we have to be willing to close the door ourselves sometimes.”
I stayed quiet, letting her words fall heavy.
“Now,maybeshe is going through something.People have battles we don’t see or that they choose not to share… even with the ones they love the most. And if that’s the case, pray for her, check in when you can, and keep being who you are. That’s grace.” She raised a brow. “But don’t confuse grace with being somebody’s fool and ignoring red flags. Grace is a hug and a prayer. Fool is you showing up with wine, and she acting like you work for FedEx. Big difference.”
I smirked despite myself, but she wasn’t done.
“If Jayla is truly your friend, she’ll circle back. But if she doesn’t?” Danica shrugged. “Then she just saved you a birthday gift and a Christmas card. Honestly, that’s not a loss, that’s a blessing.”
We shared a sisterly laugh.
“Seriously, Kam, you got too much on your plate right now—your cases, this wedding, your peace of mind—to keep making space for folks who don’t make space for you. Stop overextending yourself to people who wouldn’t stretch a finger for you. Friendship isn’t supposed to be you bleeding while they sip. At the end of the day, real friends don’t have you guessing; they show up, period. If she can’t do that, don’t carry her weight and yours, too. You deserve people who add, not subtract.”
“Damn,” I whispered, smiling through the lump in my throat. “You really be knowing exactly what to say.”
“That’s why God made me your sister,” she said with a chuckle. “Now, go make yourself a cup of tea, read a chapter of that book I got you, and rest your mind. The rest will handle itself.”
“Thanks, Danica.”
“You know I got you, always. Now go relax before I come over there and make you.”
“Okay. Okay.”
We hung up, and I sat there in the dim light, her words looping in my head.We don’t beg for friendships.
It was simple, but it felt like a weight off my chest.
Chapter Nine
ROMAN
Inursed my drink at the corner of the high-top table with one hand in my pocket and my eyes scanning the room with that calm, lawyer-by-day, predator-by-night composure I was known for.
Viangelo invited all his guys out to a lounge called Luxe. He called it “Groomsmen night out… said it was “a little pre-wedding bonding.” Which I found to be odd as hell, considering he wanted to meet and drink during the week instead of on the weekend.
I was the first to arrive; I was just waiting on their asses.
Five minutes later, Viangelo arrived with two of his cousins flanking him, a friend I remembered from summer runs, and the best man, Jax, who was nice enough when he was sober and a documentary nobody asked for when he wasn’t.
“Roman!” Viangelo greeted me with a slap on the back, the easy familiarity of old friends.
“I see some things never change. Yo’ ass was always the first to arrive anywhere.” He chuckled.
I smirked, leaning back. “Somebody’s gotta set the tone. You know I don’t like being fashionably late; I like being remembered. But what’s up, man?”
“Shid, this high-ass wedding is what’s up,” he answered, dropping into the booth with a dramatic exhale. “For real, though, it’s good to see you, man. You’ve been laying low since you got back.”
