Page 49 of Before I Say I Don't
“Who was that?” I inquired, curiosity getting the better of me as I leaned in slightly, trying to catch a glimpse of his expression.
“Work,” he answered, his voice hurried and a little too abrupt.
With a sigh, Viangelo fished out a set of keys from his pocket.
“I’ll send you the address,” he offered, his tone suggesting a sense of urgency.
“Don’t bother,” I replied, lifting my steaming mug of coffee once more. “I’ll be fine either way.” I tried to convey confidence, though a flicker of uncertainty lingered in my mind.
Viangelo paused like he couldn’t tell if I was bluffing.
I wasn’t.
He kissed my cheek—out of habit, not for affection—and headed for the door.
“See you Sunday,” he concluded, then left.
I stared at the spot where he’d been and let the anger drain out of me like fever sweat. When I was sure Viangelo was gone, I picked up my phone and called Roman.
“Damn, that was fast,” he chuckled when he answered.
“I’m still at home,” I informed, lowering my voice. “But quick question. Last night… was there a mention of a last-minute groom’s trip this weekend?”
“Nah,” Roman answered without hesitation. “At least not while I was there. The first I’m hearing of it. You good?”
The question lingered in my chest until my throat tightened. “No… I’m tired.”
“I can tell.”
I got dressed for work while spilling the whole story about Viangelo’s ‘getaway’.
“That nigga,” Roman muttered when I finished, and I could picture the way he shook his head. Roman let out a low whistle. “Oh, shit. Speak of the devil.”
My stomach tightened. “What?”
“Viangelo just texted me,” Roman disclosed, his voice edged with irony. “He wants me to pull up on him at his cousin’s house. Said he needs to ‘rap with me about something.’”
I paused, fixing my hair. “Well… are you going to go?”
He gave a short, dismissive laugh. “Nah. I already know what this is. He probably just wants to pitch me on tagging along to this little bachelor trip he’s cooked up. I’m good on that.”
I pressed my fingers against my temple. “No, Roman, you have to go! What if it’s not about the trip?! What if it’s something else?! You really think he’d text you about that instead of calling? Not to mention, he would’ve asked last night… even after y’all parted ways,” I explained.
Roman went quiet for a second, then replied, “True.”
“Exactly. So just… go. Hear him out and see what he says. If it’s about the trip, fine; you can pass. But if it’s not…”
His chuckle slid back in, low and warm. “Look at you—already trying to send me on recon.”
“This isn’t recon; this is common sense.” I chuckled.
He hummed, considering. “Aight. I’ll pull up. But if it turns out to be nothing, you owe me one.”
“You’ll live.” I playfully rolled my eyes even though he couldn’t see me.
“Well, since he’ll be gone…” his voice smoother now, “come by where I’m staying after work. No pressure. I’ve got something for you.”
Steam curled against the mirror as I stood in the bathroom, flat iron in one hand, my hair sectioned off but forgotten. My thumb absently traced the edge of the counter while my thoughts spun faster than my hands moved.
