Page 34 of Before I Say I Don't
Instead of putting on my suit and heading to court, I emailed in another personal day—not because I was sick, I lost a case and needed a day to lick my wounds, or burnout finally pinned me to the mattress.But because once again, I had to play accountant, crisis manager, and fiancée-in-denial all at once… handling a bill that wasn’t even mine to handle.
I pulled on a lounge set—comfortable enough for home, polished enough for running errands.
The peace I’d woken up with started to unravel. By the time I pulled into the venue’s parking lot, my mood was somewhere between “keep it professional” and “curse everyone out in sight.”
The building stood like a glass castle, sunlight catching on its polished edges—exactly the kind of place I’d dreamed of sayingI doin.
Once inside, my eyes quickly found Mariah, stationed behind the front desk and animatedly conversing with the receptionist. When she finally looked up and noticed me, her initial polite smile transformed into a warm and genuine beam of joy.
“Kamira! Hey, girl!” she exclaimed, her voice ringing out like a friendly melody as she pushed herself away from her desk. “Follow me to my office!”
I managed to return her smile as I trailed her down the corridor, taking in the elegantly decorated hallways adorned with soft, neutral colors that made the space feel inviting yet sophisticated. Her office was a cozy reflection of her personality—picture frames of her family on the bookshelf, a neatly stacked pile of contracts on the desk, hinting at the whirlwind of weddings she was juggling.
Mariah motioned me into a chair.
“Whew,” she sighed, sinking into her chair with an expression of exhaustion mixed with humor. “It’s been absolutely chaos around here! With spring weddings in full swing and these fall brides acting like Beyoncé’s about to perform at the reception… I barely have a moment to catch my breath!”
I chuckled softly. “Tell me about it. Court has been a relentless string of back-to-back trials. And on top of that? Planning my wedding feels like adding yet another full-time job!”
“Girl, trust me, I completely understand.” Mariah shot me a knowing look that communicated an unspoken bond of solidarity before pulling her keyboard closer, ready to dive into the details of my wedding plans. “Okay, let me pull up your file.”
I smoothed my shirt and crossed my legs. My purse sat on my lap like it knew why we were there.
“Alright,” she said after a few clicks. “As I mentioned during our phone call yesterday, your outstanding balance stands attwenty thousand dollars. That payment must be made today in order to keep your reservation secured.”
I didn’t flinch. I dug into my purse and retrieved the thick envelope containing the money I’d grabbed from my safe that morning, then slid it across the desk.
Mariah’s brows lifted. “Cash?”
“Cash,” I confirmed coolly, feeling a mix of pride and irritation. “I keep an emergency fund. However, I didn’t think mywedding venuewould be the thing I needed to dip into it for.”
She nodded sympathetically, then started counting, bills whispering in her hands. I tapped my nail repeatedly against my purse, a small gesture of my rising annoyance.
Twenty thousand dollars.
My mind raced with all the wild and extravagant possibilities that money could have afforded me—an impromptu getaway to the lush beaches of Bali, a stunning Chanel handbag in a color only connoisseurs could pronounce, or even a down payment on a luxury car that turned heads. But instead, all of it was being put toward that—cleaning up a mess for a man who claimed he had everything under control.
When Mariah finally finished counting, a smile spread across her face. “Congratulations, you’re officially all set! This clears the balance! I’ll print out your receipt for both our records and yours, and I’ll send you an email confirmation as well."
I picked up the pen she slid across and signed the receipt with the same hand I wanted to wrap around Viangelo’s throat.
Mariah tore off my copy, sliding it into a neat folder before passing it to me. “Thank you for choosing Landry Hall,” she exclaimed, her tone genuinely warm. “We look forward to your big day.”
I offered a terse nod, carefully tucking the paper into my bag as I stood up to leave. “So am I,” I lied.
Just as I approached the door, Mariah’s voice called me back.
“Kamira?”
I turned around, catching her inquisitive gaze.
Mariah leaned forward slightly, the professional facade fading to reveal something softer and more personal.
“I see a lot of brides come through this office,” she shared, her voice now tinged with understanding. “Most of them come in excited; some are clearly nervous. But every once in a while I see a bride who has the dress, the ring, the flowers, yet when she speaks about the wedding, there’s this tightness… like the whole thing is being carried on their back and not shared. I can tell you from experience, the happiest unions begin withbothpartners fully present, not just standing at the altar but showing up for each other beforehand. Because if you’re carrying it alone now, chances are you’ll be carrying it alone later, too.”
You would say that after you took the money, huh?I thought, though the bite in my mind softened as her words settled around me like pebbles dropped quietly into still water.
She smiled, genuinely kind and careful, as if wanting to protect me from the weight I carried.
