Page 9 of Before I Say I Don’t

She glanced at Jayla, who was slowly flipping through the numerous pages in her folder with a growing sense of dread.

Jayla sighed deeply. Her posture drooped as she leaned back in her chair.

“Okay, so I’m just gonna keep it real," she began, her tone a mix of apprehension and defeat. "I know booking the spot for the bachelorette party was my responsibility since I’m the best friend and all, but… I ain’t gon’ have it like that. Not right now. So… can somebody else maybe pick this up?”

An immediate silence filled the room, so profound it felt like time had halted—like a pin had dropped, or a tumbleweed had rolled through the center of our gathering. Serena’s hand froze just inches above the crisp brie cheese she was slicing.

I glanced at Danica, and she met my look of bewilderment with a similarly puzzled expression. We literally wore the same wait, what? face.

My bridal party wasn't the typical bridal party—every single one of them had volunteered to take on different responsibilities for the wedding, not because I begged, but because they all had solid careers and they genuinely wanted to ease the burden on my shoulders.

I had been under a lot of stress lately, juggling a mountain of big cases at work, so their generosity was appreciated.

Jayla had the least-lucrative job—she worked as a dental hygienist—but she still made decent money and insisted on pitching in, which made her current admission all the more disheartening. Not to sound ungrateful, but I appreciated the effort, even if enthusiasm didn’t always match execution.

Danica toyed with her pen, tapping it like a countdown. until the sound pressed on everyone’s nerves. Then she planted her elbows on the table and leaned. Her voice carried the kind of weight that made everyone sit up straighter.

“Jayla… you’re the one who asked to be in charge of this.

We didn’t throw it at you, remember? You proudly told Kam, and I quote, ‘I got the bachelorette handled; y’all just show up cute.

’ That was months ago. The wedding is in three weeks.

Not three months… but three weeks. That’s twenty-one days, three more weekends, and approximately zero wiggle room.

People have booked flights and taken off work.

There are decorations that you hand-wrote on the order form.

Hell, Serena bought novelty straws that I do not want collecting dust in my garage.

And you’re telling us now that nothing’s booked? ”

Danica’s words landed like stones, heavy and unsettling.

I watched as Jayla blinked slowly, her fingers fidgeting nervously with the edge of her folder like she was picking at a loose thread.

That wasn't just about money; I sensed that something deeper was troubling her—something she hoped we wouldn’t uncover.

“I’ve just got… stuff going on. Money’s tight. Things came up,” Jayla stammered, her gaze darting away from ours, unable to face the truth of her own inaction.

The tension in the room grew thick. I could feel Danica’s patience thinning, and I knew I needed to intervene before that discussion escalated into something far more uncomfortable.

“It’s fine,” I spoke up. “Really. Honestly? I don’t even want a bachelorette party at this point… just a bridal shower will do. It will be simple, easy, and less stressful for everybody.”

Danica gave me that look— I know you’re covering for her —but she held her tongue.

“I can help with the shower,” Lena chimed in immediately, her face lighting up with that radiant eagerness she always brought to our gatherings. “Food, setup… whatever you need.”

“Thank you,” I replied, smiling in relief.

I was grateful for the lifeline; it felt like a way out of that tangled web of disappointment.

Serena speared a piece of cheddar and muttered, “Guess I’ll just use the penis straws at home,” and kept eating.

“Moving on,” Danica continued, her voice steady but infused with the urgency of the moment.

“Kendall, you’re on bouquet pick-up. On the day of the wedding, they need to be picked up by two o’clock sharp, straight from the florist!

They’ll have Kam’s bouquet, mine, and all the bridesmaids’ perfectly arranged in water, so they stay fresh until we start taking photos.

When you get there, you’ll need to sign for them, check to make sure that none of the arrangements are missing, and bring them directly to the bridal suite.

No detours, no ‘I just stopped real quick’—you go straight there! ”

Kendall was fidgeting with a pen, twirling it between her fingers as her brow furrowed in concern.

“Okay. But… I have a lash appointment at one o’clock that day.”

The table went quiet. Serena tilted her head to the side, her expression resembling that of someone staring at a particularly bad parking job.

Danica’s brow crept up. “Why would you book that the day of the wedding? You have the timeline! I sent it to everyone! Hell, I color-coded the timeline! This is not just a pick-up; it’s a critical job, Kendall!

If the bouquets aren’t there, guess what?

No flowers in the photos! If they miss portraits, I become the headline on the evening news!

Please don’t make me go viral for the wrong reasons! ”

Kendall blinked, caught in the crossfire between defensiveness and a creeping embarrassment.

“I just… thought it’d be better to get them fresh that morning,” she murmured, her voice small.

“Girl,” Serena interjected, her tone playful yet pointed, “the bouquet is the one thing that absolutely has to be fresh.”

Even Lena, usually reserved, couldn’t help but smirk at the exchange.

Kendall straightened her posture, a gesture that seemed more nervous than confident. “Okay. I’ll try to move it."

“Not ‘I’ll try,’” Danica corrected gently. “Move it... or be lashless for the wedding. You’re still cute without them. If you can get it rescheduled, send me the confirmation. If you hit a wall, call me, and I’ll move the wall.”

Kendall glanced at me, searching for support, but I simply smiled apologetically and turned back at my checklist.

“Alright, let’s move on to the next assignments. Serena, you’ve got reception energy and bridal suite setup—food, drinks, the whole nine yards. Where we at?”

Serena lifted her hand like she was on a cooking show.

“Menu is set! We’re featuring wings in three distinct moods—lemon pepper for the tangy lovers, hot honey for those who like a little kick, and what I call the ‘call your mama’ wings, which are just downright unapologetic.

I’ve also got a beautiful fruit tray so we can pretend to be balanced, plus sliders for the guys who act like they haven’t eaten all day.

And I’m bringing a cooler big enough to hide a body—kidding!

Jesus, don’t take that literally. I’ve also already ordered ice, cups, napkins, and those little cocktail stirrers that somehow make people feel classy for no reason. ”

Danica raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Liquor? What’s the plan for that?”

Serena flashed a mischievous grin. “Handled! We’ve got tequila for shots, whiskey for sipping, champagne for toasts, and a signature cocktail that I’m calling the ‘Mrs. Not-If-You-Lying’. It’s pretty, vibrant, and it definitely bites back.”

I couldn't help but laugh. “Of course it is.”

“Delivery and timing?” Danica asked, her notebook poised for notes, already writing as if it were the most critical point of the day.“

“I have someone coming to stock the bridal suite on the morning of the wedding,” Serena replied confidently. “That’ll include fruit, pastries, water, protein bars, and of course, the crash cart—wings for before the ceremony so we don’t pass out from hunger!”

Danica nodded appreciatively, a smile breaking across her face. “Good work.” She clicked to the next name on her neatly organized agenda. “Lena, how are the emergency kits coming along?”

Lena slid a slim, elegantly designed box across the table, presenting it like a piece of prized evidence.

“Customized kits are complete for each bridesmaid. Here’s a sample for you to check out.”

The box was labeled and color-coordinated, clearly reflecting the wedding’s theme. Inside, every item was inventory-checked and carefully arranged.

“Each kit contains a fashion tape, safety pins, a mini sewing kit for quick fixes, a stain remover pen for any mishaps, heel guards to prevent shoe disasters, blister bandages for comfort, pain relievers for those inevitable headaches, lash glue, bobby pins, mints for fresh breath, blotting papers for shine control, deodorant wipes for quick refreshing, tampons for emergencies, a phone charger to stay connected, and straws for sipping those celebratory drinks without ruining our lipstick.”

Her hands danced over the contents, showcasing them with pride.

“In the matron-of-honor kit, I’ve even added tiny scissors and a portable travel steamer for any last-minute wardrobe emergencies.”

Danica peeked at me, her expression pleased.

“I likeeeeee! And what about Kam’s kit?”

Lena’s smile widened as she revealed a shimmering rhinestone-studded case from beneath the table, almost as if performing a magic trick.

“The bride's kit is larger and stocked with duplicates of everything in the bridesmaid kits. Plus, I’ve included a cooling roller for her under-eyes, a silk scrunchie to keep her hair stylish yet practical, and her exact lipstick shade because every detail matters. It’s extra… on purpose.”

I pressed a hand dramatically to my heart, feigning swooning.

“Girl, I love it! I might just marry the kit!”

“Don’t,” Serena piped in, raising an eyebrow with a smirk. “It doesn’t come with benefits.”

We all burst into laughter, the room filling with warmth and camaraderie.

“Facts!” I agreed.

Danica turned to Lena; her tone laced with sincerity.

“Thank you for being both punctual and thorough; it really means a lot!”

I chuckled softly under my breath at the way Danica emphasized "punctual".