Page 13 of Before I Say I Don't
When the sun shifted and the shade moved across our shoes, Danica brushed her palms against her thighs and sighed.
“Alright, Ma. We’re gonna get out your way.”
Danica tapped the headstone twice with two fingers, the way she always did—a goodbye and a promise. I mirrored her without thinking.
Ritual is muscle memory.
We walked back toward the car in step as gravel clicked under our flats. The air felt like it wanted to rain in an hour, but hadn’t made up its mind yet.
I waited until the gate was in sight to say, “So... I ran into somebody yesterday.”
Danica’s head tipped, curiosity already sparking.
“I’m waiting for you to tell mewho,” she commented, chuckling.
“Roman,” I revealed. The name felt like a secret I hadn’t planned on sharing.
Her face lit up the way it always did when joy barged into a room uninvited.
“Roman? From law school?ThatRoman?”
“Yes,” I confirmed.
Danica grinned like she’d been the one to bump into him. “Oh,shit! Do tell!”
I rolled my eyes, but my mouth was already tugging upward.
“Not much to tell. And don’t start… this ain’t that.”
“I’m not starting; I’m remembering,” she said, positively delighted. “He was the one Iactuallyliked… the one who made sure you ate during finals, walked you to your car when you stayed too late at the library.” She threw me a side-eye. “And you saw him and didn’t call meimmediatelyafter? Howrude, sis! I thought we were better than that!”
I chuckled at her theatrics. “We just had lunch,” I admitted before I could decide if that made me sound unfaithful. “It was… unexpected.”
Danica made a knowing little hum, like she was waiting for the plot twist.
“Mm-hmm. And how does he look? Still handsome? I know I’m married, but let’s be real—the nigga is fine as fuck!”
Yes, indeed.
“Or at least he was!” she added.
I exhaled a smile. “Stillis. He’s a bit taller and built like he respects water and says no to fried food unless it’s a holiday.” I chuckled. “Same eyes, same skin, same hair, but more… everything.”
Danica laughed, loud enough to make an old man two rows over glance up and smile at us.
“See?That’swho you should be marrying—somebody who sees you, respects you, knows when you need to be fed and when you need to be left alone.”
“Danica,” I warned, gentle but firm.
“What?! I always liked Roman! He had a husband posture back then! Not just the looks—helistened. He made decisions like a man who reads fine print.” She looked at me sideways. “Does he know you’re getting married?”
“Yep.”
“Now, see, why would you go and tell him that?”
I laughed. “What? Why wouldn’t I?”
Danica scoffed. “Because sometimes a man needsmystery, Kam. You don’t walk into a dealership talking about how you already got a car; you let them work to sell you the damn thing.”
