Page 51 of Before I Say I Don't
I smirked. “Something like that.”
Viangelo leaned in, grinning. “Y’all serious?”
“Getting there.”
“Well damn, bring her to the wedding so I can meet her.”
Oh, she’ll be there. Front row, center stage… hell, she’ll even be wearing the bride’s dress.
My thoughts drifted to a more vivid image: Kamira gliding down the aisle, glowing, eyes steady, veil floating. Yet, she wouldn’t be walking towards him. Nah… she would be headed straight for me.
The whole scene almost made me laugh out loud at how twisted the universe could get. That fool Viangelo probably thought I was talking about some random chick; the whole time, the woman he thought was ‘made for him’ was the same one I couldn’t stop imagining saying “I do… or don’t” with her focus locked on me.
The corners of my mouth curled into a smirk that was tight enough to keep my thoughts hidden.
With a casual tone, I asked, “So, what was it you wanted to discuss?”
Viangelo glanced to the side, his eyes flitting around as if searching for the right words.
When he finally turned back to face me, his expression had transformed dramatically. The usual charm and playful grin had vanished, replaced by a tense seriousness that signaled he was about to say something he swore he’d never tell a soul.
“Look… you’re one of the more leveled dudes in the crew who isn’t into running his mouth like the rest, so I feel comfortable sharing this with you.”
I raised an eyebrow, signaling for him to continue. “Shoot.”
He took a deep breath, clearly gathering his thoughts. “I haven’t been completely faithful in my relationship with Kam.”
I leaned back slowly in my seat, processing his admission. “How unfaithful are we talkin’?”
“A couple of side bitches. But… I fucked around and got one of ’em pregnant. I have a two month old daughter,” he confessed.
Damn. So Dre wasn’t lying. Not that I doubted him—he said it with too much conviction for it to just be barbershop gossip.
Still, I gave him nothing—no shock, no congratulations. Just a slow nod. “Damn.”
“I know, right.”
“How else knows?”
“None of the other niggas know. You’re the first one I told… and probably the only.”
“Why me?” I asked out of curiosity.
“‘Cause you’re not messy like their asses. You think before you talk and I can’t have this shit gettin’ out the wrong way. If she finds out…” He shook his head hard, jaw tight. “I already know it’s over. I love her. I’m not trying to lose that.”
I inclined slightly. “You love her, but you got a whole kid she don’t know about. That ain’t love, Angelo; that’s lying with better clothes on, nigga.”
“It was a one-night thing,” he rushed out. “I didn’t even know she was pregnant ‘til she hit me after the baby was born. We did the test. She’s mine. I send money… but I don’t know how to tell Kamira without it blowing everything up.”
“You just do it,” I advised with a shrug. “Keep it simple. Be direct. No sugar, no cute build-up. If you want to keep pretending like there’s not a ticking time bomb under your feet, that’s on you. But when it blows, it’s gonna be a lot louder.”
His expression shifted, eyes narrowing as he processed my words. “Are you suggesting I should drop this on her right before the wedding?”
“I’m saying, if you've been hiding something this major in your closet, it’s far wiser to swing the door open yourself than to let someone else barge in and pull the skeleton out,” I replied firmly.
Viangelo smirked like he was testing if I was fishing.
“This has to stay just between us, man. You feel me? I can’t have her hearing this from someone else.”
