Page 37 of Before I Say I Don’t

Silence pressed between us, thick as frosting. Then she dropped onto the cushion beside me and pulled me into a hug so tight my ribs remembered safety.

“I love you,” she whispered into my hair. “It hurts… I know. Let it. But don’t bleed where they can drink it. You gon’ win this, sis. You hear me? Your character is gonna cash out on their bullshit!”

My phone lit up.

It was a t e xt from Roman.

I smiled before I could stop myself, and of course, Danica caught it instantly.

“Who’s thaaaaaaat?” she sang, eyes narrowing with glee.

Before I could stop her, she snatched up my phone, read the preview— Ho w is everything going? You need me to pull up? Lol —then handed the phone to me with a grin.

I could f e el Danica’s eyes on me the entire tim e I texted him back.

Me: Hey. Let’s just say, bitches ain’t shit these days. Ugh!

Roman: Damn. I was half-joking. But for real… you need me?

I let my finger rest above the keyboard, but I didn’t answer right away. My pulse drummed quick in my wrist.

I glanced over, and sure enough, Danica was already watching me with her chin balanced on her hand, eyes sparkling like she was about to burst out laughing, and a grin creeping wider with every second I stayed quiet.

She didn’t even wait for me to speak.

“Sis, I’ma need you to go to that man’s house and fuck him… real good,” Danica ordered, perfectly casual, like she was assigning chores.

“Danica!” I choked-laughed, half scandalized, half tempted. “I?—”

“I said what I said.” She held up a manicured finger like a judge calling order. “You have been a saint, a sponsor, and a social worker in this relationship! Call me Dr. Good Sense , because I’m prescribing vitamin D… the Roman kind.”

“Girl!” I tried to keep a straight face, but my laugh slipped anyway.

“I’m serious,” she pressed, biting back her own smile. “Go let a gentleman remind you you’re a woman, not a bank slash wedding coordinator with a pulse. Fuck Angelo’s feelings! He’s been on a world tour with his DMs for God knows how long! Go have a little fun of your own.”

“But I’d be no better than Angelo if I do that.” My voice was soft, conflicted.

“Trust me, sis, you’re way better than him.

” Danica leaned in, counting off on her fingers.

“One: You’re not married. Two: You don’t owe Angelo abstinence while he’s out here auditioning for father-of-the-year on the weekends.

Three: Even if you don’t have sex with Roman, go sit in a room where you’re adored.

Let your nervous system remember what calm feels like. ”

Her words sank deep, daring me to admit out loud what my body already knew: the thought of Roman felt more like peace than sin.

I exhaled long. “I hear you.”

“And listen,” she added, voice softening.

“If you go and your body says, ‘not tonight,’ drink his tea, lay on his chest, and let that be the blessing. If your body says ‘tonight,’ then baby sis…” She raised her brows.

“Pack an exit strategy, a gallon of water, two Advil, a heating pad, wig glue, backup edges, and an excuse for work tomorrow—because you gon’ need all of it. ”

I burst out laughing, nearly choking on air. “Girl, you got way too much faith in him. That man better hope he can even keep up with me.”

Danica handed me a tissue, then another gem.

“That part! Last thing, so I can sleep good tonight. Sis, we don’t trade our peace for red flags disguised as love.

When you step on that aisle, you’ll be stepping on lies, not faith.

And when you speak, the room won’t forget.

Swallowing your voice to keep the peace only guarantees you’ll choke on silence later.

Stand tall, even if your knees shake. Choose truth, even if it costs you comfort.

Because the moment you honor yourself, you stop living in someone else’s shadow—and that’s where your real freedom begins.

Her words sank into me like stones tossed into water, rippling deep.

Before I could respond, my phone vibrated again.

Roman: If tonight, I’ll be up. No pressure. I just wanted to give you a space to breathe if you need it.

I smiled.

Danica leaned over and tapped the screen with one manicured nail. “Go get your oxygen,” she ordered, eyes soft but insistent.

I stood, heart lighter than it had been in days. “You’re right.”

“I usually am,” she replied smugly, then swatted my hip like we were teenagers again. “Now go get ready! I’ll clean up! And don’t let me hear you dragging your feet!”

I rushed into her arms, burying my face against her shoulder. “Thank you, sis. You’re the best.”

Danica squeezed me tight, rocking me side to side. “Always. That’s what I’m here for. Blood doesn’t make our bond strong—loyalty does. I got you in every lifetime, and don’t you ever forget it.”

When she finally let go, her eyes were shiny, but her grin stayed steady.

“Now go! Before I change my mind and start charging you a co-pay for these therapy sessions.”

I laughed, swiping at my face.

Danica wasn’t just my sister; she was my friend—probably the only person I could call a true friend. Her presence was a reminder that even in betrayal, even in heartbreak, I wasn’t standing alone.

Roman opened the door, and I didn’t even bother with words; I just folded into him… arms locked tight and my face pressed to his chest like I’d been running for miles and finally reached the finish line.

He chuckled low against my hair, the sound rough but steady. “Damn. I missed you, too.”

But when I tipped my head back and Roman caught my eyes, everything about him shifted.

“Who the fuck made you cry?” he snarled.

His tone wasn’t curious; it was dangerous, the kind of edge that made my pulse stutter.

I half-laughed, half-sniffled, wiping under my eyes. “I almost forgot you were a lawyer for a minute.”

His jaw flexed, eyes burning hotter. “Yeah, well, counsels can still catch a case. But the lawyer in me? He’s on break. The man who’ll bury somebody for hurting you?” He leaned closer, voice dropping into a growl. “He’s still on the clock.”

Roman’s gaze never left mine, scanning my face like he could read the whole story in the cracks of my expression.

He guided me over to the couch, his hand firm but careful at the small of my back. We sank down together, his thigh pressed against mine, grounding me.

“Talk to me,” he said, the softness in his tone doing nothing to blunt the savagery in his eyes.

I told him everything—Kendall’s unlocked phone, the messages between her and Jayla, the fake smiles that twisted in my face when I wasn’t looking and how every “congratulations” tasted hollow once I knew what was said when my back was turned.

It wasn’t just betrayal—it was humiliation dressed up as friendship, and it cut deeper than I ever let them see.

“And you still want to go through with the wedding?” Roman asked carefully.

“I’m not calling it that,” I muttered. “I wanted to call it off… right then. But Danica said, “No, we don’t run, we reveal.” I tried to smile, but it landed crooked. “And… she’s right. If I walk now, they win. I’m not giving them that.”

He nodded once. “Well, whatever you need, I got you.”

I held his stare. “I need you.” My hand slid, bold, to exactly where he knew I meant.

“Kamira.” It wasn’t a scold; it was a warning wrapped in hunger.

“I don’t want comfort food,” I said, pressing my palm harder against the heat that rose for me. “I want the thing I turned down last time and haven’t stopped craving since. The one thing that’s been living in my head like it owns the lease.””

His eyes darkened. “You sure?”

I leaned in, my lips brushing his ear, voice low and hungry. “Yes.”

His breath hitched, a dangerous smirk curving his mouth. “Say less.”

He was up first, pulling me to my feet like I weighed nothing, backing me against the arm of the couch.

His hands bracketed my hips, and his mouth obeyed no traffic laws.

One hand went to the back of my neck, tilting my head so his mouth could claim me in a kiss that wasn’t sweet—it was possession, his tongue tasting me like he had every right.

“You come in here crying,” he rasped, “and think I’m not about to make you forget their names?”

“I already have,” I breathed. “Remind me of yours.”

“Roman,” he said, like a dare. “The last one you’ll be moaning tonight.”

Roman looked at me—really looked—like I was both the problem and cure. “You want nice,” he asked, “or you want real?”

“Real.” I slid my fingers into his shirt, dragging him closer. “And then nice after.”

“Bet.”

What followed wasn’t gentle at first, but it was careful—his kind of careful—the kind that listened while it led. Roman set the pace I asked for and the one I didn’t know I needed. I answered him with my hands, hips, and the small broken sounds that only ever came out when I felt safe.

My hands slid to his waistband, tugging them down just enough before Roman pulled a condom from his pocket—a man prepared. The sharp rip of the foil was quick, efficient, like he’d done that plenty of times, but was making sure that time meant something different.

A few seconds later, Roman was rolling it on with a look that said this is happening… and it’s happening now.

Once it was secured, he didn’t waste a moment. His hands slid up to cup my legs, spreading me open like my body had been on layaway and tonight he came to collect. His dark and commanding eyes never left mine, locking me in place before the first move was even made.

“Watch me,” Roman charmingly ordered, voice low but smooth, like he knew I’d obey without question.

And I did. I couldn’t look away .

When he pushed into me, I gasped.

Roman didn’t ease in; he gave me all of him in one slow, steady drive, holding my gaze the whole time.

“Damn,” he groaned, jaw tight. “You wet like you been missing me more than you admit.”

“Mmm… Roman…” It slipped out of me, broken, desperate, not even close to enough to cover the way he made me feel.