Page 62 of Before I Say I Don't
“Yo’ behind been textingme all weekend. If I wasn’t good, you would’ve been the first to know.”
“I know, I was just joking. But seriously, where are you right now?"
"I'm about to head home," I replied with a hint of melancholy in my voice.
“Do you need me?”
“I don’t know how you always know. But yes… I do. I know Sundays are family day for you, and I didn’t want to impose."
“Kam, you are family, and the way you’re talking, this is an emergency. I’ll tell Larenz I need to step away—he’ll understand.”
“Okay. Thank you, sis. Just try to hurry. I want to try to talk to you before Angelo gets back home.”
“How do you know he’s not?”
"I checked the security camera feed from the house. No sign of him yet."
"Alright, I’m on my way! What’s the drink of choice—tea or tequila?"
I chuckled. “Tequila, Danica? On a Sunday?”
“Girl, sometimes communion comes in a shot glass,” she quipped, and I couldn’t help but laugh harder.
“Well, I’ve got wine. At least it’ll look close to grape juice if God peeks in the window.”
Danica cackled.
“But yes, bring your planner brain along too. We’ve got some serious planning to do!"
“Ouuu… in that case…” she paused for dramatic effect, “I’ll throw in my color-coded pens, sticky notes, and a survival kit—snacks, Tylenol, and a charger. Because Lord knows if we’re about to pick this wedding apart, I need my supplies.”
I smiled. “Just don’t come with a binder. I don’t have binder-energy today.”
“Baby sis, please,” she retorted with a playful scoff, raising an eyebrow. “This is me we’re talking about. Of course I’m bringing a binder… it’s already in car... organized and ready to go! If your man is gonna keep acting like a part-time fiancé, then guess what? Big sis and her trusty binder are clocking in full-time to handle this situation!”
I laughed… likereallylaughed. It felt good—and needed.
“Alright,” I relented, exhaling some of the weight. “Hurry up.”
I eased out of the garage, headlights cutting through the late-morning hush. The gate clanged shut behind me, sealing in more than just the complex—it felt like it locked up every thought I didn’t want to carry, but they followed me anyway.
I had just made it downstairs after my shower when Danica came bursting through the door.
She took one look at me—hair in a messy bun, shirt hanging off one shoulder—and smirked.
“Well damn. Somebody done shed that soft-spoken princess skin.”
“Don’t get mushy,” I said, hugging her anyway. “Kitchen… I’ll pour.”
We sat at the island—her with tea, me with the wine. She studied my face the way only a sister can.
“Okay, start from the top! And don’t you dare edit!”
I exhaled. “Okay, for starters, Ididn’tsleep with him.”
Danica’s brows kicked up as if she expected the opposite answer. “You didn’t?”
“Sis, I am technically engaged, you know that, right?”
