Book #4 of the Love & Trauma series || 𝗦𝗣𝗜𝗡𝗢𝗙𝗙 to "Threes Company"
Toby is fresh out of prison and ready to relive his second chance out in modern day.
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𝐉𝐔𝐋𝐘 ❷ ⓿ ❷ ❷
ANICIA CAUGHT THE DESIGNER SHOPPING bags that nearly fell from the leather interior of her brand new Urus Lamborghini. A logo denim Dolce and Gabbana body garbed her physique and Dolce Sorrento slip-on sneakers. She let her hair fall down her shoulders and end bra-strap length, with Diamond studs in her earlobes. She pushed the bags back into her backseat and only grabbed the necessary ones for the particular stop.
With both of her hands full, she quickly shut the door with her hip to prevent any more bags from falling out and strutted towards the lower level condo surrounded by lush, peaceful greenery. She knocked on the door best way she could with her hands full and waited patiently on the one to answer. When the door opened, and the woman on the other side stood in loose clothes and a messy ponytail.
She held an exhausted expression; breathing in relief at the sight of another human that wasn't her mother and babyfather. "Thank God! A different face. Hey."
"Hey, Amaury." Anicia hugged her briefly, as she walked into the apartment with the bags hitting the door. "Sorry. I went. . . overboard with the shopping. You should see the back of my car—new car. I went crazy."
Amaury noticed her different behavior. "Are. . . you okay?"
"Perfect. Fine." Anicia smiled widely, "Where's the little baby?"
"I just got him to sleep." Amaury sighed and Anicia took the hint of waiting another day to see the newborn.
Anicia nodded, sitting the bags down on the coffee table. "You can look through these whenever you're ready. I just wanted to come check on you. How're you?"
"I mean, look at me. ." Amaury chuckled lowly, gesturing to herself. "I'm barely doing for myself and he's a good baby when De'Aundre is here. But it's like he knows when he leaves and just starts crying. Then I start crying. I feel like I can never stop crying. I cry everywhere. I even want to cry now."
"Do you feel is the postpartum depression?"
"Possibly. It's what my mother told me." Amaury exhaled sharply, "Is this how you felt—the constant crying—after having your daughter?"
"Well," Anicia sat down on the grey suede sectional. "I didn't raise her."
"It doesn't change the fact you gave birth to her."
