Page 78 of Before I Say I Don't
Finally, somebody thought of Kamira without slapping Viangelo’s last name on it,I thought, taking a grateful sip of my mimosa.
Even though I was still side-eyeing Kendall—because I didn’t know if she knew about her brother’s little “outside project”—I had to admit, she nailed that one.
“You’re gonna need these for the nights you don’t feel like being Superwoman,” Kendall kidded, holding up the socks, earning laughter around the room.
Next was Zaria. Her gift looked like it came straight from a high-end boutique. She’d chosen a slim black box tied with velvet ribbon. Inside was a delicate gold anklet with a diamond charm. Alongside it was a handwritten note in elegant cursive that read: "For your honeymoon—something subtle, but unforgettable."
The anklet?Absolutely gorgeous, a piece that could elevate any outfit.The note? It gave me hives.
It would have made a beautiful gift for a woman who was genuinely over the moon about getting married—the kind of happiness I had long ago resigned myself to never feeling. And that was exactly the kind of woman I intended to find to pass it on to—because it sure as hell wasn’t me.
When I looked up, Zaria was gazing at me with that classic mischievous smirk of hers, sipping her champagne like she’d just dropped a secret only she knew.
Then came Jayla. She didn’t pass her gift; she practically slid it across the table as if it were unwanted change being pushed towards a rude customer. Her present consisted of a small, pastel-colored bag that seemed to scream ‘cute’ with a single oversized mug nestled inside, emblazoned with the phrase "Wifey Energy" in bold, playful letters. It was certainly not the kind of gift meant for someone feeling ambivalent about marriage, but perhaps that was exactly Jayla's point.
I know you fuckin’ lying,I thought, but didn’t let it reach my lips.
Danica and I locked eyes for half a second—the kind of knowing sister glance that said everything without saying anything.
“Money’s been tight,” Jayla added quickly, before anybody could ask. “I’ma get you more soon.”
“Girl, it’s fine!” I waved off, though my eyes couldn’t help catching how she was already back at the spread, refilling her plate for thethirdtime.
Funny how your wallet doesn’t work for gifts, but it clocked in for extra quiches,I mused, sipping my mimosa to keep from laughing.
Diane made her grand entrance halfway through the opening, presenting herself before I even saw her.
“Sorry, I’m late! I had to pick this special order up,” she announced proudly, handing over a large, gleaming silver box like it was a treasure.
I rolled my eyes the second I caught sight of her. Because truth be told, just like with Kendall, I didn’t know how much Diane knew about her son’s child—or what she was willing to cover for him. As close as those two were, I couldn’t put it past her to keep his secrets tucked neatly behind that polished smile. In that moment, everyone felt suspect. The lies had stacked so high, I couldn’t put blind trust in anybody connected to him.
Inside the box was a state-of-the-art espresso machine complete with a selection of imported coffee pods.
“I figured you’d need the caffeine for all those late nights together,” Diane hinted, beaming like she’d just gifted me gold.
I gave her a polite smile. Inside though? My thoughts were running laps.
Late nights together? Lady, the only late nights I’ve been pulling are dodging your son’s lies like potholes. If this coffee came with a side of truth serum, then we’d be talking.She’s over here thinking I’m staying up whispering sweet nothings with Angelo, when really the only thing I want to whisper is, ‘Alexa, play “Irreplaceable.”
As Diane finished basking in the glow of her espresso machine reveal, Danica sat elegantly on the edge of a plush armchair and swirled the last sip of champagne in her crystal glass.
With a smile so kind but verged on venomous, she drawled, “Cute. You done?”
With that, Danica gracefully rose from her seat and glided toward the living room, returning moments later to reveal not one, but four towering stacks of gifts, each precariously balanced on metal carts.
The room fell into an awed silence, the atmosphere thickening with an unspoken challenge.
“Oh, I didn’t know this was a competition,” Diane muttered.
“It’s not,” Danica quipped sweetly. “But if it were… you’d lose.”
One by one, Danica started unveiling her lineup, like she was hosting a private auction.
Danica plopped the bedazzled designer weekender bag on the table like she was dropping evidence in court.
The bag gleamed under the chandelier, stuffed to the brim with skincare, hair care, health care, and perfumes peeking out like it was put together by a bougie survivalist.
“When you finally start taking girls’ trips again, you’re not about to roll up with no busted luggage. You’re showing up moisturized, perfumed, and looking like the woman people regret losing.” She winked.
