Page 10 of Before I Say I Don’t

I caught Lena’s slight smirk as she registered Danica’s flair for the dramatic, and I was pretty sure Jayla did too—her pen had paused mid-scribble, momentarily distracted.

Lena tilted her head, a satisfied smile curving her lips. “I prefer to think of myself as reliable, but thank you. Anything for my girl."

“Zaria, what kind of transportation have we arranged? How is it looking for the day?” Danica asked.

Zaria leaned forward, her demeanor polished and composed.

“I’ve booked a bridal bus with a white exterior and luxurious cream leather interior, complete with air conditioning that actually works—not an easy find in this heat.

It can comfortably hold up to twenty people.

I also negotiated a no-glitter clause because I have a deep respect for the upholstery.

The driver is Maurice, a friendly guy, and he has the complete route mapped out.

First, he’ll be picking up everyone for hair and makeup, and then he’ll take us straight to the ceremony location.

To make sure we stay on schedule, I’ve factored in extra time for potential traffic delays, and I’ll do a careful headcount at each stop to make sure no one is left behind.

The waiver has been signed, the deposit is already paid, and the balance is due the day before the event—I’ll handle it. ”

Danica quickly scribbled notes, nodding in approval. “Perfect. A group text, including the driver’s contact number, will go out the week of to keep everyone in the loop.”

Zaria inclined her head slightly, pleased. “That’s already drafted and ready to send.”

“Excellent work, ladies.” Danica closed that section of her notes with a satisfied hum, her expression filled with excitement, then shifted her attention down the table.

“Jayla, since the bachelorette party has officially been called off—” she delivered the news lightly, though the weight of it hung heavily in the air—“we still have one crucial position that needs to be filled. Would you take on the role of Bathroom Buddy Coordinator?”

Jayla’s brow furrowed in confusion. “The what?”

Serena casually popped a grape into her mouth. “It’s a real thing, babe.”

Danica laced her fingers, voice dipping into that nice-nasty tone she had mastered.

“It’s exactly what it sounds like. Big dress, small stall.

Someone has to oversee the veil, the train, and the minor logistical nightmares, so our bride doesn’t have to wrestle tulle alone.

You’ll set up schedules for bathroom rotations, but you’ll be the go-to person—since you’re Kam’s closest friend, she’s going to feel most at ease with you…

in my absence. It’s an intimate responsibility, it’s essential, and it ensures we stay on schedule. Any questions?”

Jayla adjusted her folder, stalling. “So, like, I’ll go with her every time she needs to… you know?”

“As needed,” Danica answered smoothly. “You’ll coordinate with Serena or Lena for backup if you need a breather. But you will take the lead on this. Think of yourself as the Director of Dress Navigation , guiding our bride through her delicate mission.”

Jayla mustered a smile, though it barely reached her eyes. “Alright. I can handle that.”

“Good,” Danica stated, the subtle click of her pen punctuating her words.

I caught Lena sliding a fresh pack of bobby pins across to Jayla without a word, just in case. The quiet kindness made my chest warm.

We proceeded to go over the seating chart—a task worthy of a medal given the delicate diplomacy involved.

It had kept three cousins from fighting and two exes from making a scene.

Kendall suggested putting her friends closer to the DJ “so they can keep the energy up,” prompting Danica to mark them in the back near the bar, subtly suggesting they could enjoy that energy from a distance.

We were twenty minutes in when a knock came at the door. Danica’s eyes narrowed immediately—she had locked it after the last person arrived because this was a no-interruption zone.

When she swung the door open, her face transformed into a portrait of surprise, marked by a slow blink that signaled a silent prayer for restraint— Jesus, keep me from saying something unholy .

“Ladies,” Diane greeted, gliding into the room as if she were walking the red carpet.

A lush, soft fur wrap draped elegantly over her shoulders added an air of winter charm, a stark contrast to the sweltering ninety-four-degree heat outside.

Her pink lipstick was flawlessly applied, and she had a perfect bob.

She leaned in to air-kiss my cheek. "I hope I’m not too late.”

Danica and I exchanged a glance laden with mutual understanding. The only person who could’ve possibly spilled the beans about that private meeting was none other than her daughter, Kendall.

“This meeting is for bridesmaids, the matron-of-honor-slash-wedding-coordinator, and the bride-to-be only,” Danica articulated politely, drawing a clear delineation. “Parents weren’t included in the invitation.”

“Perhaps you didn’t formally invite me, but word has a way of getting around,” Diane replied, sliding into a chair with an air of ownership as if she were settling into her own living room. “I brought lemon bars,” she added, sounding pleased with herself.

Serena perked up immediately. “Okay… that's definitely a redeeming quality.”

Lena’s lips quirked with amusement while Kendall busily attended to her manicured nails.

Danica had that look—the one that meant we were going to need a prayer circle after that meeting.

Diane placed a small, neatly wrapped gift bag on the table with the kind of flourish that said, prepare to be impressed . “Aren’t they darling?”

Danica, intrigued yet cautious, leaned forward and peeked into the bag. As she extracted a tiny mason jar filled with a golden orange concoction, her face remained neutral; however, I sensed her soul recoiling slightly.

“Is this… jam?” she inquired, bewildered.

“Peach preserves,” Diane replied with pride. “My sister handcrafts them. We could tie a delightful ribbon around it and attach a sticker that reads, ‘Spread the love.’”

“Okay, but that’s low-key cute. Country Pinterest, but cute,” Serena said.

“It is,” Danica conceded, placing the jar down as if it were a fragile thing that had just bombed an interview. “For a baby shower.”

Diane’s cheerful smile froze and tightened slightly, revealing her annoyance.

“Well. I suppose not everyone appreciates country charm," she retorted, her tone a smidge defensive.

“I appreciate cohesiveness,” Danica quipped. "This event is a modern classic . The favors are custom chocolate truffles with the initials pressed in gold. Already ordered. Already paid for. Already superior.”

Diane blinked at Danica, taken aback, then turned her eyes towards me, seeking validation.

I smoothed out my folder, eager to defuse the brewing tension with a neutralizing statement.

“It’s a lovely idea, Diane. Thank you for considering it.”

“Of course, sweetie,” she replied, squeezing my hand.

Turning her attention back to Danica, she asked, “Have you discussed the ceremony readings? If not, I have some excellent suggestions that could add a deeper, more spiritual layer to the event.”

“I’ve already selected the readings with the officiant,” Danica responded, her smile maintaining a veneer of politeness. “They are perfect as they are.”

Diane’s eyes flashed—oh, she’s loading her next shot. “And the music? Because I spoke to a talented young man about singing Ave Maria ?—”

“No,” Danica says before she even inhales. “This is a Black wedding in 2025. We’re not starting it off like a scene from The Godfather .”

Serena burst out laughing, nearly tipping her chair over from the force of it. “Whew, okay!”

Diane inhaled like she was smelling shade and finding it high quality.

“You know, Kamira,” she said sweetly, “I just want to make sure this reflects our family’s traditions.”

Danica’s pen didn’t stop moving. “Which family are we discussing? Because on her side, our tradition is to consult the planner. Yours, it seems, is to show up with unsolicited opinions and snacks!”

I pinched the bridge of my nose and chewed on a cube of cheese like it was a sedative.

We moved to the rehearsal dinner details. Diane wanted to invite “a few more people.” Danica explained that the guest list was not a beach towel; it would not stretch. Serena suggested a champagne tower “for the vibes.” Danica said she preferred functioning motor skills to vibes.

Kendall mentioned a photo booth with a glitter backdrop, then caught herself.

“Wait, no. Glitter follows you into your next life. Never mind.”

“Thank you,” Danica expressed solemnly. “You were almost banished.”

We reviewed the schedule once again; a sense of urgency tinted the air as hair and makeup were set to begin promptly at 6:30 a.m.

“Not 6:45. Not 6:31,” Danica stressed, her hands planted firmly on her hips. “If you’re late, I promise your style will look like you got ready in the backseat of a Lyft, and I won’t be photoshopping you.”

Diane, sitting with her legs crossed and her chin lifted defiantly, seemed poised to share an announcement that nobody asked for.

"My son has been putting in so many hours! He’s missing out on everything! He’s been doing so much for the wedding, you know,” she said, her tone dripping with pride.

Diane, however, held the faintest inkling that her son was merely doing the bare minimum.

“Has he now?” Danica taunted.

“Yes!” Diane’s smile was all pearls and delusion. “According to him, Kamira hasn’t had to come out of her pocket for anything… not even her dress!”

Danica coughed—the kind of cough people fake when they’re trying not to holler—and I knew it was to hide her true reaction. Like me, she was grappling with the absurdity of Diane’s fairy tale.

“Ah,” Serena chimed in melodically, her expression brightening as if she’d just received the best news.