Page 79 of Before I Say I Don't
A low chorus of “mmhm”s and “period”s circled the table.
“Thank you, sis. I didn’t realize how much I missed planning something that’s just forme.” My voice thinned on the last word.
Serena squeezed my knee under the table.
Danica’s smile flickered warm, then wicked. “Exactly. We’re back outside… but with standards.”
Danica didn’t linger in the tenderness; she pivoted like a pro, fingers already reaching for the next surprise.
Another smaller box appeared that seemed to carry more than just jewelry.
I pulled the ribbon loose. As I lifted the lid, the room seemed to lean with me. Inside, cushioned in velvet, sat a Cartier Ballon Bleu watch; its silver-and-gold face gleamed.
A collective gasp broke across the table.
Danica didn’t even let the sound finish traveling around the room before she spoke up.
“Because your time is valuable, sis. And I wanted you to wear something that makes people respect every single second of it,” she explained.
My throat tightened, but I still managed, “Thank you, sis.”
The weight of it in my palm felt like power—heavy enough to remind me I deserved more than wasted hours and cheap apologies.
Danica leaned back, lips curving, voice playful but certain. “Always. But there’s more.”
The next gift was a glossy certificate tucked in a lacquer-black folder.
I slid it out carefully. A name I recognized from those travel vlogs I watched at two a.m. when sleep and peace wouldn’t come was listed at the top in bold letters.
My eyes widened in surprise and pure excitement. “Danica! This place—this is that hidden luxury resort!”
Danica nodded, proudly. “Yup, sis, the one you’re always telling me about. After all this chaos, you’re going to need a reset, sis… arealone. Not a bubble bath with lavender Epsom salt. Two tickets—pick wisely who you take with you.”
Before I could even form words, Serena slapped the table so hard the silverware jumped. “Hell, take me!” she exclaimed, pointing both thumbs at her chest like a game-show contestant. “I’m fun, I tip good, and I don’t hog the bathroom or the mirror! Ask anybody—I travel light, and I bring snacks!”
Laughter popped like confetti.
Danica gave her a playful side-eye. “Girl, if enthusiasm was the requirement, you’d already be packed.”
Laughter rolled around the table again. Even Diane chuckled, dabbing the corner of her eye.
“I haven’t had a reset in years,” I admitted, quietly. “Just… pauses that felt like punishment.”
The room softened around me. Danica didn’t rush the moment; she let it breathe.
The next gift was a personalized leather-bound journal with my initials embossed in gold and a luxury pen nestled beside it like a co-conspirator.
Danica’s reason poured out like she’d been saving it.
“I’m sure you’re curious… why this? Well, after all this madness, you’re going to need somewhere to pour your thoughts, your dreams, your plans… and maybe even yoursecrets. Every boss woman needs a place to write her story, and I want yours to shine.”
I traced my initials—K.S.—and saw a version of myself who wasn’t just surviving but choosing.
“I’m going to actually use this,” I whispered. “Not just to write in the first three pages and forget it on the nightstand.” I chuckled.
Danica slid one last box toward me and leaned back, folding her arms with theatrical satisfaction.
“I saved the best one for last.”
