Page 45 of Before I Say I Don't
I swirled what was left in my glass, watching the light catch the amber liquid.
My savage usually slept in silence. But sometimes, like tonight, he poked his head out just long enough to stretch in the sun.
I stood before the mood curdled.
“I’m out,” I announced, sliding from the booth.
“Already?” Jax frowned.
“Early morning,” I lied, tossing a half-smile.
Viangelo stood too. “Let me walk you out.”
We stepped into the night, the city’s heat still clinging to the air. Viangelo followed close behind, like he didn’t want the silence to do the talking for him.
“Yo,” he said, voice easy. “You know I’m glad you came through, right? It means a lot you being part of my wedding.”
“No problem.” I kept it simple.
“Speaking of…” He tilted his head, eyes narrowing just a fraction. “My fiancée says she knows you from college.”
I gave him a lazy grin.
“Yeah. Kamira and I go back… but we didn’t really hang out much,” I lied. “Just same lecture halls, caffeine addictions, and professors trying to scare us out of law school. She was sharp back then… still is. Smarter than most of us put together.”
Viangelo’s smile twitched. Based on his expression, he appeared not to be sure if I was complimenting Kamira or reminding him of something he didn’t want to picture.
He chuckled, uneasily. “Small world.”
“Small world indeed,” I echoed, sliding my hands into my pockets. “But big memories.”
The air between us got heavy… thick enough that even the streetlamp buzz seemed to hesitate.
I let it linger before flashing him a grin that didn’t reach my eyes.
“Anyway, you got a good one… make sure you act like it. Which brings me to ask… are you sure you’re ready for married life, or do you still got a couple bad habits to kill off first?”
Viangelo laughed it off, that easy, charm-your-way-out laugh. Then he saw I wasn’t laughing.
“You know the phrase ‘cold feet’? Not like I’m not gonna do it. I’m just… you know. It’s like—this shit is really about to happen. I’m about to be somebody’s husband… committed to one female… for the rest of my life. That’s heavy.”
“Cold feet is your body telling you to slow down and look around… not to run, but to check your pockets and make sure you’re not carrying lies to the altar.”
Viangelo laughed again, like I’d cracked a joke.
He wanted it to be a joke… needed it to be.
“You always be on philosophy time,” he said, nudging my side. “I’ll see you next week, man.”
“See you,” I responded.
With that, Viangelo headed back inside.
I watched the way his eyes scanned the room before he slid into the booth again.
Hunters and husbands look at rooms differently. Viangelo was still choosing targets; he hadn’t learned how to choose home.
Sliding into the driver’s seat, I started the engine but didn’t move. My mind wasn’t on the road—it was on Kamira.
