Page 16 of Before I Say I Don't
“Petty but noted.” I chuckled.
“I prefer the wordeffective.” She smiled, then her voice softened. “But seriously, the only thing I want you to do on your wedding day is look pretty and be happy. Letmesweat the details.”
We hugged—one of those long ones where my shoulders dropped, the world hushed, and my spine felt a little sturdier because the person holding me had been propping me up since I was eight. I inhaled the faint scent of her vanilla lotion, the one she’d worn since high school.
Danica kissed my temple. “I love you.”
“I love you more,” I replied sincerely.
“Not possible,” she said, letting me go.
Danica opened her car door, then looked over the roof at me. “Text me when you get home. And Kam?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t marry an apology; marry a pattern you can live with.”
I tucked the sentence into the pocket of my heart like a folded note you keep for years, edges worn soft from rereading.
“Got it.”
She slid into her car.
Before getting into mine, I tilted my face toward the sky. It was that golden hour where the sunlight melted into the horizon, painting everything with a kind of fragile beauty. I let a short prayer rise. It wasn’t polished or theologically impressive… just honest.
God, if there’s something I need to see, don’t let me miss it. And if there’s something I’m holding onto that you’ve already let go of, give me the courage to set it down.
The wind picked up, sweeping through the oak leaves until they sounded like soft applause. A warm breeze brushed my cheek, and for half a second, I felt… lighter—like maybe he’d heard me.
I hopped in my car and headed home, already composing the group text in my head:
Ladies, don’t forget the meeting on Saturday. 10 a.m.! Don’t be late…. per Danica’s orders! Lol.
Chapter Four
KAMIRA
Danica ran meetings like church and court had a baby—there was an agenda meticulously laid out, scripture sourced from her favorite affirmations, and a strict policy: if someone was late, expect some consequences.
Her ‘work’ room looked like a Pinterest board curated with care: a single expanse of an espresso-toned wood table commanded the room, elegant without trying. Three short vases overflow with pristine white hydrangeas. Each seat was graced with a stack of neatly labeled folders, all color-coded and organized to perfection.
In the center of the table was a charcuterie board large enough to satisfy a basketball team. It was laden with an assortment of cheeses, cured meats, fresh fruits, and crackers. A frosty pitcher of lemon and cucumber water also sat nearby.
Open on the table was her wedding binder. Its tabs were carefully organized, one of which boldly read“Operation: Keep Kam From Losing Her Damn Mind.”Danica had three highlighters lined up like little soldiers, ready for action, and her favorite pen she clicked with a purposeful precision each time someone said something foolish.
"I’m five minutesearly,” I announced, stepping into the fragrant space with a bottle of crisp Sauvignon Blanc resting in one hand and a colorful box of macarons in the other.
“You’re on time, sis!” she exclaimed, taking the wine with a welcoming smile while casting a playful side-eye at my shoes. “You obviously walk fast in those shoes, so wear them for the rehearsal. We need to make sure you get to the altar before Angelo changes his mind!”
Or me,I thought.
Nearby, my niece and nephew's crayons were stacked neatly in a cheerful tin on the buffet, and a family photo peeked out from a corner—Larenz with his arm affectionately wrapped around her waist, the kids grinning widely, and Danica's smile radiating pride, as if to say, Ibuilt this on purpose.
Lena was already there, sitting straight-backed at the end of the table with her leather notebook closed and her face on “court gallery.” Lena was the quiet one among us. We met at the firm during a particularly grueling case. She’s surgical with her words—always dissecting arguments with precision and allergic to any form of nonsense. Danica appreciated her presence in meetings because she showed up consistently, listened intently, and asked questions that cut straight to the core of the matter.
“Hey, Kam,” she greeted with a small, genuine smile. “Congrats again on the verdict."
“Thank you, girl,” I expressed. “You’re a saint for being punctual today.”
