Chapter 3

　　Well. Someone finally got the dessert they've been starving for," Jessica says, setting the tray down gently and pulling off the mitts one finger at a time.

　　"Close your legs, sweetheart. You're dripping on my marble."

　　I instinctively squeeze my thighs together; a thick drop of cum hits the floor anyway.

　　"It just… happened. Tyler was drunk and "

　　"Tyler was exactly how I wanted him to be," she cuts in, voice soft but steady. "I replaced half the bottle of whiskey with Everclear three hours ago."

　　Tyler did act drunk but not too drunk. He realized I'm not Jessica. So he actually wanted me. The thought punches me in the gut, a twisted mix of victory and guilt.

　　"What's this about?" I mutter, my heart hammering.

　　She steps closer, her eyes flicking to Tyler's handprint on my ass, not with anger but something sadder.

　　"I needed you fertile."

　　Fertile? What the fuck are you talking about?

　　"I needed the two of you to have sex," she whispers, her voice cracking a little. "That's why I pretended to leave the house. I knew you'd kick off eventually, but not this early. But my mission's accomplished, though."

　　I still don't understand what you're saying.

　　"I'm infertile, Joyce. I can't carry a child."

　　What? Since when?

　　She slides an envelope to me with trembling hands. I snatch it, rip it open, and scan the pages, my fingers leaving sticky marks on the paper.

　　It shows an ultrasound image of Jessica's womb. Empty. Barren.

　　"It's empty," I say, my voice flat. "I thought you and Tyler already had sex."

　　"That's what I'm saying," she replies, her eyes welling up now. "I can't give birth, and Dad won't take it well if I adopted and lied to them. I haven't told Tyler either—was planning on telling him next week after the wedding."

　　Okayy?… and what does this have to do with me and Tyler having sex?

　　"So… I came up with a plan," she continues, her voice dropping to a plea. "You and I are identical down to the blood type. I was hoping you'd carry for ten weeks, we transfer the embryo to my uterus, and I give birth in March like nothing ever happened."

　　She reaches out even closer to me, brushes the smear of cum on my lip with her thumb, and licks it clean without breaking eye contact. Her touch is gentle, almost loving.

　　"You've already done the hard part, twin. All you have to do now is keep your legs open for a few more loads… and then hand my baby back when it's time."

　　She still has that same smile on her face, but now it's shaky, desperate.

　　I finally find my voice, and it comes out sharp. "So let me get this straight… you want me to be your oven for ten weeks, then go through surgery to get the baby out just for you?"

　　"Yes… exactly, now you're getting it," she says, her eyes pleading like I'm her lifeline. "Please, Joyce. You're my sister. I've always been there for you—Cambridge, the money, everything. Do this for me. For us. I can't lose Tyler over this. I can't lose my family."

　　"No," I snap, backing up a step and slamming my hand on the counter. My heart's racing, anger bubbling up.

　　"Fuck no. You set me up like a lab rat? I'm not your surrogate incubator, Jess. Find someone else to play baby factory."

　　Her face crumples. Actual tears now, rolling down her cheeks .

　　"Joyce, please," she begs, grabbing my arm softly and pulling me closer, her grip tight but not aggressive. "I'm begging you. This is my only chance. We're twins—we share everything. Remember Mom? She always said we were two halves of the same soul. If you say no, I lose everything. Please… I'll do anything. I'll give you half the house, the yacht, whatever you want. Just say yes."

　　I yank my arm free, pacing the kitchen for a second, my bare feet slapping against the cold marble.

　　The smoke is still thick in the air, making my eyes sting—or maybe that's the tears I'm holding back. She's my sister. My twin. The one who saved me when Mom died. The guilt twists in my chest like a knife.

　　"Fine," I mutter, stopping and crossing my arms over my chest. "Whatever. But this is fucked up, Jess."

　　She hugs me then, tight, whispering "Thank you" over and over like I just saved her life. I stand there stiff, not hugging back, but not pushing her away either.

　　I pull out of the hug and head upstairs on shaky legs, leaving her in the kitchen. My mind's still a storm. Do I have a choice? For now, I go with the flow.

　　I make my way to her room just to find Tyler sleeping on the bed like we didn't just have 2 rounds of almost nonstop fuck.

　　"Must be the effect of the liquor she gave him."

　　I grab Jessica's clothes—the blouse I had on before the heat from earlier—and slip it on, my fingers fumbling with the buttons as I stare at my reflection in the mirror, seeing her face staring back at me.

　　Had to go to my room, this isn't my room, anyways. Not yet that is.

　　I took a slow shower, scrubbing hard at my skin, turning the water hotter until it burns, trying to wash away the cum and the confusion. My hands shake as I lather up, slamming the soap bar against the tile in frustration.

　　"Who would have guessed, the all-perfect, stunning, and always-lucky Jessica can't give birth." And I'll have to give her the child.

　　I press my forehead against the cool shower wall, touching my belly with one hand. Ten weeks? Surgery? Hand it over like a library book?

　　And I'll be left with nothing. I'll still be the failure, still not perfect.

　　Fuck that. I can't be her shadow forever. I have to change that. And you'll be helping me out with that, I whisper, talking to the probably-not-yet-fertilized egg as I trace circles on my skin.

　　"Am I crazy or what?" I mutter, realizing I just got fucked today. It's gonna take a whole 10 weeks.

　　I step out of the shower, towel off roughly, pulling at my hair in frustration before slipping into my nightwear.

　　It's 3:17 am in the morning.