Page 24 of Before I Say I Don’t

Chapter Thirteen

ROMAN

I moved like a man on a mission.

The penthouse was already spotless—I always kept it that way—but that night wasn’t about clean floors and polished counters; it was about the atmosphere.

A bottle of Kamira’s favorite wine that she once mentioned sat on the table, candles waited, unlit but ready, because I wasn’t about to force the mood, and an R I was setting the table for honesty, for quiet, and whatever she decided to lay down between us.

I was pouring water into the crystal glasses when my phone lit up: Ma .

I smirked, shaking my head, then hit speaker.

“Evenin’, Ma.”

“Evenin’ nothing, Roman D. Hill! Don’t ‘Ma’ me like I ain’t been waiting all day for this call!” she exclaimed, her voice full of Mississippi warmth wrapped in Chicago blunt. “How was it?”

I chuckled, deep. “Chill, Ma. You already got me married off in your head and she ain’t even been here yet.”

“You think I don’t know you? Roman, you talk about that girl like she’s the last damn woman on earth. It’s been, what? Five years?”

“More like nine,” I corrected. “And it ain’t like I been sittin’ here crying over her.”

“You’re lying!” she playfully shot back. “Roman, you let her get away once, and you always said if you had another shot, you wouldn’t waste it. So is this that shot?”

I dragged a hand down my jaw, smirking. “Ma, you sound like you’re trying to write my vows. Relax. I’m just… seeing where her head’s at.”

“Uh-huh. And where’s her head at? Still with that man?”

Ma made a noise in her throat that said she wasn’t impressed.

“Ma…” I gently warned.

“I’m just saying… you sure you’re not about to break up somebody’s happy home?”

“Ma… that home ain’t happy. Trust me.” I pushed off the counter, walked to the window, and peered out at the city lights. “I’m not pushing nothing. I’m just… here. If she needs a real one, I’ll be that. If not, I’ll mind my business. But either way, I’m not letting her think she’s alone.”

There was a pause. Then, “Roman, you got that savage in you from your daddy, but you got my heart. Just make sure you’re using both… not one without the other.”

I gave a slow nod she couldn’t see. “I hear you.”

“And if she walks in there tonight, you better be a gentleman!”

“Ma, come on now?—”

“I’m not finished,” she said kindly, cutting me off. “Be a gentleman… but if you do kiss her, don’t be half-ass about it. Ain’t no woman ever left your daddy wondering how he felt.”

I laughed.

“Alright, I’ll let you get back to setting your little trap.”

“It ain’t a trap.”

“Mm-hmm. Call it what you want. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Don’t forget to send me a picture of her. And Roman?”

“Yeah, Ma?”

“Don’t mess this up, son. Third time isn’t a charm.”

I chuckled. “Meaning?”

“The good ones don’t come around three times… maybe twice.”

I pulled my ear away from the phone just in time to see Kamira’s text light up my screen: I’m coming up.

My lips curled slow. “I gotta go, Ma. She’s here.”

“Oh, Lord,” she whispered like she was peeking through her curtains. “Go get her.”

“Aight.”

I hung up, slid the phone into my pocket, and scanned the place one last time. Everything was set—lights low, table neat, air carrying the faint scent of cedar and something warm I’d cooked just to make her feel at home.

Then I moved to the door, calm as a loaded chamber. The kind of calm that made men nervous and women curious.

I pulled it open, and there she was standing in the elevator like she hadn’t just spent the last few weeks unraveling my patience without even knowing it.