Page 43 of Before I Say I Don't
I let my smile tilt just a little. “You know how I do. Move quiet, keep it clean, and let folks guess what I’m up to. They usually guess wrong.”
“Facts! But welcome back, G,” Jax said, pulling me in for a hug. “I was afraid you wouldn’t show up, but Angelo said you’d come through.”
“Yeah. I had to see what Chicago calls a boys’ night in 2025. Figured I’d show my face before this nigga gets tied down.”
The table laughed… Viangelo included.
“Tied down?” Viangelo shook his head. “More likeupgraded.”
It was friendly enough, but I was already clocking him.
“Yo!” Viangelo shouted, flagging down the waitress. “Round of shots!”
The waitress came back with the shots and a plate of lime wedges nobody asked for. She leaned a little too far over the table as she set Viangelo’s glass down, her hand brushing his shoulder like it belonged there. He didn’t push her away—just smirked like it was part of the service.
Jax elbowed me. “Angelo’s gonna flirt with the DJ next.”
“You gon’ get yourself in premarital counseling,” one cousin added, and the whole table howled.
“Y’all sound jealous,” Viangelo grinned. “But the shit was harmless. It ain’t like I asked for her number. Let me live a little before I gotta answer to ‘Yes, wife’ and ‘No, wife’ in two weeks.”
To his boys, it was a joke. To me, it was a tell.
I noticed it all—the way Viangelo let the waitress be all in his space, the way his smirk lasted a bit too long, and the way he tried to blur the line between harmless and disrespectful.
Men don’t have to take numbers to cheat; they just have to leave the door cracked and smile at whoever walks in.
Jax raised his glass. “To the last days.”
We lifted, clinked, and sipped.
The next thirty minutes were laughter and lies.
Viangelo had been laying it on thick all night, smiling big, playing the role of the devoted fiancé like he deserved an award for it.
“Kam’s been stressed with all the wedding details, but I told her not to worry—I got this. My lady is about to have the wedding she deserves. The venue’s booked, catering’s handled and honeymoon’s paid for.”
I swirled my drink, hiding the way my jaw twitched.
For a man who “had everything handled,” he sure had Kamira covering most of the costs. Kamira had told me enough to knowallof that was smoke. Still, Viangelo said it smooth, and the other niggas ate it up.
I leaned back, smirking. “Sounds like you’ve got it all under control.”
“Damn right. She’s my queen, man. I’m making sure she doesn’t lift a finger.” he replied, leaning forward, eyes bright like a man in love.
The guys nodded, slapped him on the back, and ordered another round.
Then one of the groomsmen, Terrence—loose mouth, already halfway lit—leaned in with a laugh.
“Yeah, just don’t let her find out about yourTuesday nights, bro.”
The table went quiet for half a beat—just long enough to meansomething.
I had a feeling what “Tuesday nights” meant, but I kept my face flat and my glass lifted like it was just another throwaway joke.
Viangelo’s jaw ticked and eyes cut to Terrence with a glare sharp enough to slice him open.
“Ain’t nothing to find out.Right?”
