13. Mine Before the World
I should’ve been excited. That’s what everybody kept expecting from me anyway.
I was supposed to be all smiles and Pinterest boards.
I was supposed to be cake-tasting and building a wedding playlist with all the wedding songs us women dream of walking down the aisle to, while I cried over flower arrangements and practiced writing Mrs. Davis in cursive like some lovesick teenager.
And don’t get me wrong, I was happy. Ecstatically happy to have the love of my life at home. I was marrying the man I had loved since middle school, and I was carrying his baby and building a life we had waited damn near half our lives for.
But underneath all that happiness, there was fear. It was an ugly fear born of selfishness because every day Jared felt less like mine and more like Crestwood’s.
“Milla?”
YaYa’s voice pulled me out of my thoughts while Chanel held two wedding invitation samples up dramatically.
“This one or this one?”
I blinked toward the table. Gold foil invitations covered half the bridal suite inside the luxury boutique hotel YaYa rented out for the day. Fabric swatches, floral samples, catering menus, and seating charts sat everywhere while Chrisette Michelle’s Golden played through hidden speakers.
“I genuinely don’t see a difference,” I admitted honestly.
Chanel gasped and was offended immediately.
“Camilla Renee Anthony, soon to be Davis.”
“I said what I said.”
YaYa burst out laughing beside her.
“She’s just stressed,” Kenya muttered calmly from the couch while sipping iced coffee. Unfortunately, she was right. YaYa knew me too well; my brain had been spiraling for days.
I didn't have cold feet about getting married. It was everything about this specific ceremony.
All eyes were on us because of the campaign.
The cameras were overwhelming, the interviews were non fuckin’ stop.
The city loved my baby, and while that healed something in him, it hurt me quietly.
Was the slow and tender life we always discussed not enough?
I felt so guilty having these feelings when I encouraged him to run.
But no one could have prepared me that a life of public service would mean the public saw my man more than I did.
“You okay?” Chanel asked more softly this time.
I forced a smile quickly.
“Mhm.”
“You’re a terrible liar, Milla,” Kenya said, narrowing her eyes immediately.
I sighed, leaning back against the velvet chair dramatically. “I just–” My fingers traced the edge of one invitation absently. “I knew marrying Jared would be big emotionally.” I swallowed slowly. “I just ain’t realize it would feel this public.”
YaYa nodded her head in understanding. “You just want it to be you two?
I felt better that they understood immediately, but how could they not? They loved men that the world constantly tried to claim, too. Xavier belonged to headlines and rumors before he belonged fully to Chanel. Zay belonged to power before he belonged softly to Kenya.
And now Jared? Jared belonged to hope. That was even bigger. How could I take Crestwood’s hope from them? I knew if I spoke to Jared about how I felt, he would remove himself from the race, and I couldn’t be that selfish.
Channy walked over first, sitting beside me quietly. “You scared the city gon’ take pieces of him.”
Damn. Her words hit me straight in the chest.
I laughed weakly. “Damn, I’m that obvious?”
“Yes,” both of them answered together.
Traitors.
Chanel grabbed my hand gently afterward.
“Milla.” Her voice softened. “That man has been yours for over two decades.”
My eyes burned instantly. Because she was right. Jared loved me before the campaign and the headlines. We were building a life together before the city started calling him Mayor Davis. He loved me when he only had prison calls and dreams to offer.
Still, my chest tightened anyway. “I know,” I whispered. “I just–” I shook my head slowly. “I waited so long for him.”
Twenty-four years taught women how to hold love tightly once they finally got it.
Kenya looked up from her phone quietly then.
“You know what your problem is?”
“What?”
“You’re still thinking like a woman waiting for him to come home.” She tilted her head slightly. “Not like a wife.”
That shut me up immediately, because damn. Prison trained all of us strangely.
Especially the women left outside. Even now, with Jared sleeping beside me every night, part of me still woke up emotionally prepared to lose him again somehow.
Chanel squeezed my hand again.
“He chose you publicly now,” she murmured. “That matters.”
And honestly?
It did.
Because Jared could’ve kept our relationship quiet.
When he decided to run, he could have gotten his own place or moved to Kenya and Zayden’s huge ass compound.
Instead, that man looked at me in interviews like he wanted the whole damn city jealous.
I smiled despite myself, remembering the last campaign photoshoot.
The photographer asked Jared to look more “presidential” and less like a “lion ready to pounce on me.”
That Nigga looked directly at me instead.
Once I calmed down, YaYa and Channy convinced me to try shopping for dresses. We ended up inside some luxury bridal boutique downtown, surrounded by enough satin and lace to bankrupt a small country.
And somehow, I still couldn’t focus.
“Camilla.”
I blinked toward the consultant standing beside me, holding another wedding gown.
“Yes?”
“You drifted off again.”
Because my fiancé was currently on television. A muted campaign interview played across the boutique’s mounted screen while Jared sat beside some local news anchor, looking broad as hell in a navy suit, talking about prison reform and educational funding. My man cleaned up dangerously well.
YaYa noticed where my attention drifted and immediately started laughing. “Oh, she’s down BAD.”
“I’m listening,” I lied.
“No, you’re not.” Channy snorted from the couch with a glass of champagne in her hand.
The consultant smiled politely, trying not to laugh, while Chanel grabbed the remote and turned off the TV completely. “Absolutely not.” She pointed at me dramatically. “You are not gonna ignore wedding dresses to thirst over my brother.”
“I can multitask.”
“No, you can’t,” Kenya chimed in.
I sighed before finally standing up from the couch while the consultant led me toward the fitting area. The first dress she handed me was beautiful. It was fitted to my curvy frame and was satin. It had off-shoulder sleeves and had a dramatic train. It was elegant without trying too hard.
It gave very ‘mayoress’, that title still sounded insane in my head.
And for a second, standing alone in front of that mirror, it finally hit me emotionally.
Because this wasn’t fantasy anymore. This was really happening.
After years of putting up with Antwon’s trifling ass and wishing to God that Jare and I had tried our hand at happiness earlier.
We were finally here. My hand slid unconsciously over my stomach.
The public couldn’t talk yet, but Jare and I knew, and in our private moments, we talked to our baby.
“Are you ready to show your sisters?” the consultant called gently.
“As ready as I’ll ever be.”
As soon as she opened the curtains, both of my best friends went silent.
“You look beautiful,” YaYa whispered first.
Channy’s eyes filled instantly. YaYa clutched her chest dramatically. Even the consultant smiled emotionally.
I was brought to the pedestal in front of the three mirrors, and the bridal consultant began grabbing a tiara and a veil. She placed it on my head, and I couldn’t breathe.
I looked like Jared’s wife. The thought hit so hard my eyes burned immediately.
“Oh no,” YaYa whispered. “She finna cry.”
“I’m not crying.” Tears literally filled my eyes while I said it. Treacherous ass emotions.
Chanel walked over first, gently fixing the veil.
“You know what’s crazy?” she murmured softly. “You’ve been loving that man since we were kids, and this moment surprises you. Kenya and I always knew.”
All of the memories came rushing back to me. Me pretending not to stare at Jared in church, me being jealous of Jackie and Jared having Antwon’s ass whooped when he found out from jail I was pregnant with AJ.
All of it.
And somehow after all these years, I still loved him, just deeper now.
“Are you still worried about losing him to Crestwood?” Kenya asked quietly.
I looked at myself in the mirror, at the low neckline and beautiful lace bodice, then I answered honestly.
“Yeah, but I realize I’m worried for no reason.”
Because no matter how many directions Jared was pulled in, he still helped Demir with homework, ignored JoJo’s teenage attitude and helped him with his jump shot.
He still texted AJ every morning. He still carried me to bed when I fell asleep on the couch and kissed my stomach when he thought I was asleep.
He was mine.
After I said yes to the dress, we finished finalizing the guest list. My feet hurt from such a long day, and my emotions were fried. YaYa was a bridesmaidzilla and had threatened to physically fight two different wedding vendors.
“Why are centerpiece flowers this expensive?” I complained while scrolling through invoices.
“Because flowers aren’t where you skimp with cost, love,” YaYa answered calmly.
I laughed softly while leaning back against the couch, one hand resting against my stomach absentmindedly.
The girls were still arguing over seating charts and which politicians could be next to whom. Everything about this wedding had become bigger than us.
Not because Jared and I wanted extravagance. The city wanted hope, and Jared’s redemption and our love story provided all three.
My phone buzzed suddenly across the coffee table. Jared was video calling me. Immediately, my entire face softened.
Chanel saw it and gagged dramatically.
“Disgusting.”
I answered the call anyway.
“Hey, handsome.”
Jared’s voice immediately dropped to a softer tone, hearing mine.
“There goes my beautiful Millie Millz. What are you doing?” he asked.
“Being bullied by wedding people.”
“I told you to let them handle most of this.”
“Your sisters are control freaks.”
“Facts,” Kenya muttered loudly enough for him to hear.
Jared laughed softly through the phone, and just hearing that sound settled something restless inside me immediately.
Home.
That man sounded like home now.
“You eat?” he asked automatically.
“Salad.”
“You need real food. Will you be done soon?” he asked quietly. The care in his voice made my chest ache instantly. Because underneath all the politics and campaign madness, Jared constantly missed me, too.
“Mhm.” I smiled faintly. “You miss me?”
“Bad.”
Damn. That simple answer wrapped around my heart immediately.
“Jare.”
“Mhm?”
“You okay?”
I asked because I’ve noticed the pressure behind his eyes lately. The weight of the campaign and all these interviews exhausted him.
“Yeah.”
I smiled sadly. There goes his fake answer now.
“You can lie to everyone else, but don’t ever lie to me, Jare.”
He exhaled slowly.
“I just–” He took a long pause.“Everybody is expecting something from me now.”
I should have known that our fears were in tandem with one another’s. He wasn’t afraid of losing the election. He was afraid of failing people who finally believed in him.
My chest constricted. “Baby,” I whispered softly, “you already survived what was supposed to destroy you.”
“You always know what to say, Millie Millz.”
“No.” I smiled faintly. “I just know you.”
And I did, probably better than anybody, because I loved every version of Jared Davis, the reckless young man who wanted blood, the angry man jaded by the system, the survivor, the father, and the future mayor.
All of him.
“You know what I realized today?” I asked softly.
“What?”
“I thought I was afraid of sharing you with the city, but I’m not anymore.”
Jared got quiet, too. “Why not?”
“Because no matter how many people need pieces of you–” I swallowed slowly. “I still get the version that comes home.”
“Camilla.”
“Mhm?”
“You trying to make me leave this meeting and come fuck the shit out of you all over our home, aren’t you?”
Honestly? Yes. But before I could answer, YaYa snatched the phone dramatically.
“NO,” she yelled. “You stay where you are, Mr. Mayor. We got work to do.”
Jared barked out laughing through the speaker.
“Give my woman back.”
“Not until she picks flowers.”
“I hate all y’all.”
I felt so much better now that I had spoken my fear aloud. Because maybe love this big was never supposed to stay private, maybe it was always meant to become a legacy.