A Night With My Stepbrother
“You get the soap and fruit. I’ll find the oil and pasta. Meet at the bread.”
It was their well-practiced division of labor. Isabel moved toward the far aisle where locally made soaps and lotions sat on a rustic shelf. Sofia, lulled by the motion and the new sights, began to make soft, cooing noises, her tiny fist batting at the fabric of the wrap.
“Yes, amore, I see it too,” Isabel whispered, smiling down at the perfect, curious face. “That’s a very big lemon.”
For a few minutes, there was only this. The pleasure of selecting sun-warmed peaches, judging their ripeness by scent and gentle pressure. The comfort of choosing the soap with the chamomile and oat, the one that kept Sofia’s skin so
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