Page 48 of Before I Say I Don't
“Kam, you’re acting like I’m disappearing for a week. It’s two days. Chill.”
“Stop telling me to chill! Every time you say that, all I hear is ‘shut up so I don’t have to be accountable!’”
He rolled his eyes. “Here we go.”
“No… hereyougo again!”
Viangelo came closer, hands raised like he was calming a child.
“Babe, breathe. We’ll be back Sunday afternoon or evening. Damn. What’s the big deal? You can hang with your girls. Do a spa day?—”
“Stop!” I cut him off, palm in the air like a traffic cop. “This isn’t about me finding something to do while Daddy’s away! I’m not twelve, and school didn’t just get canceled! This is about you making a major decision without telling me until the second you’re walking out the door and acting like that’s normal! Tell me, Angelo—am I your fiancée, or just a random chickyou’re fuckin? Correction—barelyfuck, since you’re rarely here and when you are, you’re too damn tired to even touch me!”
Viangelo leaned back on the island with his arms folded and eyebrows arched like I’d slapped him.
“Since when did you start talkin’ like that?”
I smirked, sharp and humorless. “Since I realized the only way to get through to you is to speak your first language—bullshit!”
“Damn, Kam. Why you gotta go that hard? You know this trip don’t mean much of nothing. It will just be me and my boys. We’ll just be chillin’, drinking, and laughing. Ain’t nobody thinking about no other bitches or none of that crazy shit probably going through your head.”
“Oh, right,” I said, crossing my arms. “Because menneverdo anything reckless when they go out of town together. Silly me for thinking the bachelor trip you swore you weren’t having, the one you sprung on me the morning of, might raise a red flag or two!”
“Babe, come on.” Viangelo softened his voice, reaching for me like his hands could erase his lies. “You stressing over nothing. You know you’re the one. I’m marrying you… end of story.”
“End of story?” I barked a humorless laugh. “Angelo, it’s not the story that worries me; it’s thechaptersyou sneak in between the ones I’m reading. You disappear some nights—claiming it’swork-related. You ‘forget’ major payments! You’ve been treating me like a roommate more than a fiancée, and now this? And you expect me to just smile and clap because you told me I’m ‘the one?!’”
Viangelo’s jaw flexed, his tone shifting harder. “You’re blowing this out of proportion. You always do that. Damn, I can’t just have fun with my boys?”
“You want fun? Cool. Go have fun. But let me be crystal clear, Angelo—fun stops where my dignity begins. You don’t get to blindside me and then gaslight me for being pissed! That’s not partnership, that’s cowardice.”
For once, Viangelo had no comeback. He just stood there with his mouth open like he was waiting for the right line to fall in.
I shook my head, voice dropping low. “You swear you want to be a husband, but the way you move? You’re still an amateur in a grown man’s league. Newsflash? Husbands don’t get topick and choosewhen to act married. Either you’re all in, or you’re out. And right now? You look real comfortable with one foot out.”
His mouth flattened. “Kamira, you’re doing the most right now. What?! You want me to say sorry?! Aight! Sorry, I didn’t tell you sooner… like last night! Sorry, that work has beencrazy! Sorry, I need a second to breathe before we get married, and everybody’s locked on me like I don’t get to be a person!”
“Angelo, you get to be a person; you don’t get to be a liar and keep choosing mystery over clarity and call it ‘being a person.’”
“Don’t call me a liar.”
“Then stop talking like one!” I rebutted.
We stared each other down over the island like we were in a tiny courtroom where only two people could fit, and one of them had misplaced their facts.
“Baby, I don’t want to argue. I’m trying to make sure I get some time with my boys before life changes, and you want to turn it into a trial.”
I stepped forward, closing the distance between us. “If you don’t want it to end up in trial, then maybe you should stop racking up violations.”
Viangelo exhaled deeply. “Look,” he said, his tone mellowing slightly, attempting to calm the charged atmosphere.“I’ll send you the location if that makes you feel better. I’ll FaceTime from the hotel. Hell, I’ll post stories. Whatever.”
I remained silent, consumed by the internal battle within me. The part that had resolutely stopped making excuses three arguments ago was beginning to drown out all his reassurances.
I’ll text Roman,my brain whispered, unhelpfully loyal to relief.
He’ll tell me quickly if this is real.I kept that thought locked behind my teeth where it belonged.
Viangelo’s phone vibrated in his pocket. He reached for it then glanced at the screen. A flicker of unease crossed his face, but he quickly turned it face-down on the counter.
