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Homer’s bald head. “Whatever. You’re going to be a groomsman.”
    â€œDamn! I was hoping I’d get a pass on that duty. I’m allergic to weddings. Haven’t you noticed that I’ve avoided holy matrimony?”
    Before they could continue their conversation, a crush of reporters entered the locker room, shoving tape recorders and microphones in their faces.
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    Meanwhile, across town, Lauryn and her girlfriends giggled happily as News 14 showed a replay of Maurice’s proposal.
    â€œGirl,” Vivian Sanders said, “your man loves you.”
    Lauryn smiled cockily. “Yes, he does, and I have him wrapped around my finger.”
    Mya Brown looked at Lauryn and shook her head. “You’re really going to marry the money, aren’t you?”
    â€œDon’t do this,” Lauryn warned.
    â€œI mean, I know that you love this lifestyle, but you don’t love Maurice,” Mya said. “He’s always been a means to an end for you.”
    Vivian observed the two of them talk as if she were watching a tennis match. Just like with tennis, she had no clue as to what was going on.
    â€œMya, why don’t you mind your business? If you can’t be happy for me and Mo, then leave,” Lauryn hissed.
    â€œFine,” Mya said as she rose to her feet. “Marrying him will be the biggest mistake of your life.”
    Lauryn glared at her friend as she left.
    â€œForget her. She’s just jealous. How big is the wedding going to be?” Vivian said.
    â€œ SportsCenter big. I’m thinking three thousand guests, cameras, and all of that. I want to be the black Princess Diana.” Lauryn picked up the phone and called Charlotte’s most renowned wedding planner so that the media machine could be pushed into high gear.
    But deep inside, Lauryn knew that she was going into this marriage for all the wrong reasons and that Mya was right. She didn’t love Maurice. Her heart belonged to another, but there was no way Lauryn could leave the plush life that Maurice had provided for her. She loved their penthouse that overlooked uptown Charlotte. She loved the fact that they always got the best seats at the most exclusive restaurants. They never paid to party in Charlotte, Atlanta, New York, or anywhere else they went. She’d grown accustomed to dressing in the hottest fashions and wearing Jimmy Choo shoes and lots of jewelry—diamonds, rubies, and anything else she wanted. Her jewelry box resembled an upscale jewelry store.
    This was what she’d wanted all along. That was why she’d hooked up with Maurice nine years ago. But nine years later, she had to wonder if it was worth it.
    I don’t care what Mya thinks. I’m marrying Maurice, Lauryn thought. I’ve worked way too hard for this.

    Curled up on her sofa in Atlanta, Georgia, Kenya tossed the latest Dr. Phil book across the room, deeming it a waste of time. One day she’d stop wasting her hard-earned money on self-help books. She was fine; it was the rest of the world that had a problem. Why couldn’t people just congratulate her for being a successful contract attorney, one who was licensed in four states and who had finished law school at the top of her class in under three years? No, people always wanted to know why she wasn’t married, where her boyfriend was, and why she didn’t have children. Kenya refused to be defined by a man or motherhood. It didn’t help that her mother and father were dropping hints that they’d like a grandchild or two. Just a hazard of being the only child.
    She turned the television on and flipped through the channels, looking for something to occupy her mind. Kenya paused when she came to ESPN.
    â€œCarolina Panthers wide receiver Mo Goings isn’t just celebrating his team heading to the NFC Championship game. He’s also celebrating his engagement to his high-school sweetheart, Lauryn