Providing A Baby For My Billionaire Stepbrother

n her chest. Behind her, a large queue snakes towards the center of

e cranes her neck to try and look at the till, before looking back to

ext. Her skin is so fake-tanned and dented by acne, she looks like a gigantic orange. Next to her, Sash could be

o Sash and blinks slowly, one eyelid slightly

y. Clack goes the chewin

says. “I put money i

Sash may have overlooked a crucial piece of informatio

y to ignore the question, she just continues to look across to Sash as though

ngers on the long since stopped conveyor belt. A child

h says. “It must be a p

he assistant rubs her fingers along the black stripe of the credit card and langorously re-swipes it. Any slower and her heart would stop. The till hum

n, emphasizing the firs

“Come on”, he says. “That’s four t

?” the assistant asks, ha

ak, a punnet of strawberries, a health food bar to eat on the way home. She rifles

says. Others nod their heads in agreement. One s

s”, Sash says, trying her best to foll

oks at Sash and then she looks at the till.

though expecting to find a reasonable answer there. Instead, all she gets is a sp

says, holding on to her hat while she passes,

e fucking sun?” she mumbles, the

skinned man taps enthusiastically on upturned

ten, losing herself pleasurably

a smile, and tilting the top of his head downwards, in a way in which Sash mista

iately embarrassed she can’t tip him. As if she’s already outstayed her welcome, she heads

ient amount for the train ticket home. Digging it out of her purse now, she realizes for the firs

opposite, regards her with a mix of fear and excitement, as though he’s heard something he’s not suppo

veling on his own. She looks at the health food bar and then ha

gh a toughened plastic window co

d then shuffles along the compartment, his company issue trousers frayed at the

pitted pavement slabs not designed for high heels, and by the ti

forming part of the apartment’s design. She fights her way past them, kicks her shoes off in the hallway and swi

s Co

ists with her bare toes in the worn carpet. Her head ha

n”, sh

s belly and his ankles. It’s as if he has been beamed down from a

art of his wrist where a watch wou

good time”

vers on the periphery. For all his bulk and presence, he’s reserved, and a little bit timid. To be polite,

e says. “It’s just been

nths”, Martin says. “I

l the end of the m

h is twenty eight da

e week?” Sash