Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
𝐵𝑒𝑦𝑜𝑛𝑐𝑒́
California sun had the nerve to be pretty as hell today.
It was one of those days where even the smog had a golden tint to it. The breeze carried the scent of citrus and high fashion, and Rodeo Drive buzzed with tourists, influencers, and the rich trying to blend in with the rich-er. I had on shades big enough to shield my mood, a black hoodie over my braids, and I still wasn't safe. Every store I stepped into, someone clocked me. Whispered my name. Snuck a photo.
But I wasn't here for me. I was here for them.
My babies.
I'd originally only planned to grab some soft onesies from that overpriced French boutique Onika liked—tiny little ribbed cotton things in champagne and cream, the kind of newborn clothes made more for Instagram than for actual living—but then I saw it. A crib. No—two cribs. Matching. One ivory, one caramel, both carved with tiny stars across the headboard.
"Y'all got delivery?" I asked the guy who looked like he only worked here for the discount and the clout.
He nodded. "Local, statewide, or national?"
"Local. But quiet. No press. No leaks. You get one camera flash and I'm sending the whole bill to your boss."
He laughed like I was joking. I wasn't.
I added the double stroller, too. Sleek, matte black, with cream accents and enough cup holders for the whole family. I knew Onika would act like I was doing the most, but she'd cry when she saw it. She always cried when it came to the babies. Swear she could be watching a Pampers commercial and just burst into tears like look at their tiny toes!
I double-checked the delivery address. Not Nicki's old place. Not my mom's house. Home.
My real home. The one we were slowly, finally building together.
I was walking back toward the valet when I heard it.
"Giselle?"
I knew that voice before I even turned. The familiar nasal lilt. Sweet on the surface, sour at the root.
Mariah.
Fuck.
I didn't stop walking. Didn't flinch. Just kept my head down and sunglasses on. Maybe if I moved fast enough, she'd get the hint. But of course not. Of course her needy ass reached out and grabbed my arm, like she still had some sort of right.
"Giselle, wait—can we talk?"
My jaw clenched.
"Let go of me."
She blinked like she was confused. "I just—I saw you and thought maybe we could catch up. I heard you're expecting—"
