Page 95 of Before I Say I Don't
“Good to know,” I said finally, shaking myself out of the trance. “Just something to add to my ‘to say list’ tomorrow.”
Roman caught the shift instantly. His tone softened, steady but careful. “You good?”
“Yup!” I chirped, too chipper, but I doubled down with a grin.
It wasn’t heartbreak—not that time. It was insult on top of insult, stacked until it became rage. Every revelation felt like I was peeling back another layer of Viangelo’s bullshit, and underneath it was nothing but rot. Each new secret proved what I already knew—he wasn’t shit.
“Tomorrow, I’ll be saying—Angelo who?!” I added.
We both laughed.
“Seriously, I’m good. I promise,” I reassured him.
“Just making sure.”
“Thank you,” I expressed quietly, my smile easing into something real. “Foralwaysmaking sure. And for… everything else.”
“Always, baby.”
For a moment, we just stood there, staring, like the space between us might collapse if either of us leaned even a fraction closer. The want was thick enough to touch.
I exhaled, forcing myself back to control. “Now go be charming before they start thinking we’re plotting.”
“Weareplotting,” Roman reminded me, but obeyed; his eyes dragging over me one last time before he slipped back into the crowd, smooth as if nothing had happened at all, while my whole body still hummed from it.
I felt the new fault line Roman had just given me—the truth about Zaria—slotting into the map of my plan.
Another receipt. Another clean cut waiting for tomorrow’s light.
Back at the table, Danica slid into the chair beside me. “Everything beautiful?”
“Gorgeous,” I replied, eyes on Jayla and Kendall playing friendly at the mimosa tower. “Absolutely gorgeous.”
Diane appeared, beaming. “Kamira, darling, are we still doing the mother-son dance before the toasts tomorrow? I’ve been practicing.”
Danica whispered to me, “Practicing what? Possession?”
Serena covered a laugh with cough-cough decorum. “Water went down wrong.”
I smiled up at Diane. “We are. Same order we confirmed.”
What happened next took everyone by surprise—Jayla passed out.
The sound her body made when it hit the floor stole the room’s breath. Glasses rattled and someone yelped. Kendall was there first, knees to the stone and palms cupping Jayla’s cheeks, panic written all over her face.
Danica’s elbow nudged my ribs. “Face,” she murmured without breaking her smile. “Pretend to be thesupportivebest friend. Go.”
Reluctantly, I moved. I slid in on the other side, knees to the floor and fingers pressing at Jayla’s wrist.
“Hey, hey. Jayla,” I said calmly. “Open your eyes for me.”
“Somebody call 911!” Kendall’s voice cut sharp, jagged with fear. “She’s pregnant!”
Silence fell like a curtain.
Pregnant?That single word expanded, echoing in my chest until it filled every corner.
However, it wasn’t the pregnancy that punched my sternum; it was how the information entered the room,andhow Kendall knew before me.
