Page 27 of Before I Say I Don’t

Chapter Sixteen

KAMIRA

“ Y ou really gotta leave?” Roman asked, with a genuine hint of disappointment in his tone as we stood in his doorway, preparing to say our goodbyes.

After spending two incredible days together, leaving felt like tearing myself away from a breath of fresh air.

He cared for me in every essential way—his gentle touches, the thoughtful conversations that filled the spaces between us, and the way he truly listened to my worries and dreams. It was a kind of love and understanding that Viangelo hadn’t offered in months.

If it wasn’t for Mother Nature pulling her little monthly stunt, I’d b flat-out sinful by that Sunday morning and the reason behind Roman’s devilish-smirk—and then some.

I slid my bag over my shoulder, trying not to let my eyes linger on the way he leaned in the doorway, watching me like he was memorizing every inch. Roman had that quiet, possessive thing about him—like he could lock the door and keep me there without raising his voice once.

“Yes,” I finally answered, chuckling lightly, though my chest felt heavier than I wanted to admit. “I need to get home before Angelo does. I don’t want to throw anything off.”

His jaw flexed. Roman clearly didn't like my response, but he chose not to press further.

I let out a long sigh, took a step forward, and wrapped my arms around him, hoping to offer some reassurance.

“I know what you’re thinking… that I used you as emotional support just to run back to him. I promise you, that's not the case. These past two days, being with you, has brought me more joy and comfort than I’ve felt in the last two months with Angelo… and that’s the truth.”

His expression softened.

“I have a plan brewing," I continued, my determination growing. "Once I discuss it with my sister, I’ll fill you in on all the details.”

Roman nodded slowly, like he was giving me permission to handle it my way for the time being. Then he bent down, brushed his lips against mine—not deep, just enough to taste—and murmured something dark, freaky, and possessive against my mouth.

“Next time you come over… you’re not leaving ‘til I’m done with you. And when I am, you won’t just not wanna go—you won’t even remember why you thought about leaving in the first place. You’ll be too weak in the knees to find the door.”

It made my pulse trip over itself. For a second, I thought about saying fuck the plan, Viangelo, and everything—and just staying right here.

But I didn’t.

I promised to call him later, and I meant it.

By the time I hit the elevator, my mind was already made up.

There would be a wedding, sure… but not the one everybody was expecting.

When I finally turned my phone back on, the screen lit up like a damn slot machine—fifteen missed calls from Viangelo, four voicemails, and a string of texts that ran the full circus.

Viangelo: Call me NOW.

Viangelo: You trippin, Kam. Answer the phone!

Viangelo: Stop acting childish; you know I love you!

Viangelo: You really gon’ ignore me all weekend? Bet! Don’t say shit when I get home!

I just stared at the screen, but never pressed play on the voicemails. My chest tightened, but not out of guilt—out of exhaustion.

That weekend, I powered off my personal phone. I only kept my work phone on—strictly for emergencies. Aside from coworkers, Danica was the only other person who had that number. Everyone else? They could wait until I decided I had the energy to deal with them.

What pissed me off the most wasn’t the begging, the guilt trips, or even the threats disguised as ultimatums. It was that Viangelo never once shared his location or called to say he’d made it safe Friday night.

Not even a single “I’m here” text. Nothing.

So yeah, I turned my phone off that Saturday morning.

What’s good for the goose is good for the gander, right?

He felt like it was okay for him to vanish into the night with his groomsmen—no updates, no check-ins, no consideration.

So I decided to return the favor and let him know what silence felt like.

The only difference was that my silence wasn’t careless like his; it was intentional.

And if he thought I was gonna sit by the phone all weekend waiting on crumbs of communication like some desperate fiancée he had me twisted.

I texted Danica before I pulled out of the complex garage.

Me: Good morning, sis! Did you go to church this morning?

Danica: Good morning, baby sis. But not today. I had a long night. What’s up? You still at Roman’s.

Instead of texting back, I called her.

“Well, you didn’t send me a peach, so I take it that you’re good,” Danica chuckled.

“Yo’ behind been texting m e all weekend. If I wasn’t good, you would’ve been the first to know.”

“I know, I was just joking. But seriously, where are you right now?"

"I'm about to head home," I replied with a hint of melancholy in my voice.

“Do you need me?”

“I don’t know how you always know. But yes… I do. I know Sundays are family day for you, and I didn’t want to impose."

“Kam, you are family, and the way you’re talking, this is an emergency. I’ll tell Larenz I need to step away—he’ll understand.”

“Okay. Thank you, sis. Just try to hurry. I want to try to talk to you before Angelo gets back home.”

“How do you know he’s not?”

"I checked the security camera feed from the house. No sign of him yet."

"Alright, I’m on my way! What’s the drink of choice—tea or tequila?"

I chuckled. “Tequila, Danica? On a Sunday?”

“Girl, sometimes communion comes in a shot glass,” she quipped, and I couldn’t help but laugh harder.

“Well, I’ve got wine. At least it’ll look close to grape juice if God peeks in the window.”

Danica cackled.

“But yes, bring your planner brain along too. We’ve got some serious planning to do!"

“Ouuu… in that case…” she paused for dramatic effect, “I’ll throw in my color-coded pens, sticky notes, and a survival kit—snacks, Tylenol, and a charger. Because Lord knows if we’re about to pick this wedding apart, I need my supplies.”

I smiled. “Just don’t come with a binder. I don’t have binder-energy today.”

“Baby sis, please,” she retorted with a playful scoff, raising an eyebrow.

“This is me we’re talking about. Of course I’m bringing a binder…

it’s already in car... organized and ready to go!

If your man is gonna keep acting like a part-time fiancé, then guess what?

Big sis and her trusty binder are clocking in full-time to handle this situation! ”

I laughed… like really laughed. It felt good—and needed.

“Alright,” I relented, exhaling some of the weight. “Hurry up.”

I eased out of the garage, headlights cutting through the late-morning hush. The gate clanged shut behind me, sealing in more than just the complex—it felt like it locked up every thought I didn’t want to carry, but they followed me anyway.

I had just made it downstairs after my shower when Danica came bursting through the door.

She took one look at me—hair in a messy bun, shirt hanging off one shoulder—and smirked.

“Well damn. Somebody done shed that soft-spoken princess skin.”

“Don’t get mushy,” I said, hugging her anyway. “Kitchen… I’ll pour.”

We sat at the island—her with tea, me with the wine. She studied my face the way only a sister can.

“Okay, start from the top! And don’t you dare edit!”

I exhaled. “Okay, for starters, I didn’t sleep with him.”

Danica’s brows kicked up as if she expected the opposite answer. “You didn’t?”

“Sis, I am technically engaged, you know that, right?”

Danica leaned back, eyes wide in mock shock. “Engaged? Ohhh, so that’s what we’re calling it now? ’Cause from the way you’re glowing, it looks a lot less ‘engaged’ and a lot more ‘entangled.’”

I tried for an eye roll, but the smirk that followed told on me anyway. “Entangled? Sis, please. If I was entangled, you’d be able to see the receipts all over me by now.”

We shared a laugh.

“But he was…” I searched for the right word and found three. “A gentleman. He fed me, held me, let me fall apart, and didn’t try to fix me before I was ready. I felt… safe.”

“So you almost?—”

“—But didn’t,” I finished. “Now… If Mother Nature didn’t tap me on the shoulder? Different story.”

Danica slapped the counter. “Lord be a fence!” She tried to look mad but failed.

“I’m not gonna lie—part of me is mad you didn’t just cancel the wedding and move on.

But the other part of me is relieved that your body seems to have a mind of its own.

.. remembering it belongs to you. I’m also pissed your fiancé made room for this in the first place. ”

I proceeded to tell her everything—the shocking content of the recording, the unexpected news of the baby, the other women, and the way my heart felt both shattered and mysteriously healed while Roman stood beside me.

Danica’s demeanor changed abruptly; she went rigid, her expression transforming into the kind of focused silence she adopted just before she unleashed a calculated verbal explosion.

“So let me get this straight…” Danica started, eyes narrowing. “This man sat in your house, ate your food, let you plan the Black Royal Wedding of the year… with a whole side baby and a history of hoe habits?”

I nodded. “That’s the summary.”

“Girrrrrrrrrrrl. Kam, listen. You know I’ve been ready to cancel this wedding since the day he called himself booking a venue and forgot it existed!”

“I’m not calling anything off.”

“Kam … you have every reason, every receipt, and every red flag to walk. You ain’t gotta pray for a sign—God has practically laid out an entire PowerPoint presentation just for you. The presentation is color-coded, with bullet points and background music!”

“I know,” I replied, my voice barely above a whisper, the weight of my decision heavy on my heart. “And I will… after the wedding. I’m walking down that aisle… just not for the wedding they think is coming.”

Her brows shot up. “Ohhh, so you gon’—”