Page 41 of Before I Say I Don't
I walked past her, my eyes cutting to the side.
She’s jumpy as hell and acting like I’m the police with a warrant instead of her friend with a bottle of merlot. What the fuck is wrong with her today?
Once inside, Jayla grabbed me a wine glass. I poured my own glass while she sat stiff on the couch, engrossed in her phone, thumbs flicking across the screen like I wasn’t even there.
I took a sip and side-eyed her. It felt like I’d shown up to a slumber party where the host forgot to cancel. Every few seconds, Jayla’s face lit with whatever she was scrolling, but not once for me.
So, I brought wine and my presence, and you brought… Instagram? Cool. Love that for us.
“So what’s up?” she asked flatly, eyes flicking from me to the screen.
Jayla’s nonchalant attitude made me want to stand up, drain my glass, and leave. But instead, I said it, “I think Angelo might be cheating on me.”
Her brows popped up, then smoothed in a blink. “Really, Kam? We’re talking about Angelo. The nigga who be wining and dining you.”
“Correction…used to.”
“Oh? What changed?”
“The hell if I know,” I shrugged, sipping wine. “He’s been coming home later, with more excuses than a freshman trying to explain missing homework. One night it’s traffic, the next it’s a coworker’s birthday… hell, next week he’ll say he was abducted by aliens and had to fight for his life.”
She chuckled politely, but her eyes didn’t match. “Girl, you’re probably overthinking. It could be nothing or… it could be you’re just stressed. You know how wedding blues creep closer to the date.”
I shook my head. “No, this feels different. He’s been moving funny. I don’t even feel like I know what he’s doing half the time anymore… or hell, if I even know him.”
Jayla finally turned and gaveher undivided attention. “So what are you going to do? Marry a man you don’t trust? Let all this money you spent on this wedding go to waste? Keep walking down the aisle just to say you didn’t trip?”
Her tone was sharp enough to make me blink.
“If I find out he’s cheating—whether before or after the wedding—losing money will be theleastof my worries… or his.”
Her mouth twitched, like she wanted to say something but thought better of it.
I went over there with the intention to tell her about Roman as well, but my gut pulled the brakehard.I realized then that wasn’t news I was ready to hand over toeveryoneto pick apart and have their opinions on.
So instead I asked softly, “Enough about me. How has life been treating you… other than the sickness?”
Jayla hesitated, then gave me the same dismissive shrug she had offered for months.
“Life has just been lifing… bills, work, stress, rinse and repeat,” she muttered, her voice flat. “Some days I feel like I’m treading water, and other days I’m already under it.”
I studied her carefully, the way her shoulders sagged even as she tried to sound casual. It was the kind of answer that told you nothing and everything at the same time.
We talked—or rather, I talked—while Jayla offered nothing more than the occasional “yeah” and “no.” It felt like I was pouring out my thoughts and feelings, piece by piece, only to bemet with a gentle pat on the back. After about twenty minutes, I stood up and walked out feeling strangely hollow.
Driving home, I couldn’t shake the thought that maybe I should’ve gone to Danica. Or maybe, in my search for genuine understanding, I should have just reached out to God. At least with him, I’d feel certain that someone was truly listening.
I had just kicked off my shoes and curled up on the couch when my phone lit up with a FaceTime call fromDanica.
I smiled before I even answered. “Hey, sis.”
“You good?” she asked right away. There was no hello, no niceties—just the raw concern of someone who knew me too well.
I laughed a little. “Yeah… just a little tired.”
“Mm-hmm,” Danica replied, like she wasn’t buying it. “I was just calling to check on you. Something in my spirit told me I needed to hear your voice today.”
That hit me harder than I expected. “You don’t know how much I needed to hear that.”
