Page 16 of Bittersweet

“Well, being in your thirties, you would know, since you’ve been around for all of it.”

“Hey, I’m thirty. Not in my thirties. Quit teasing me about my age. You’ll give me a complex.” Savannah smacked Harper on the arm.

Harper laughed and elbowed her friend playfully. Although there was only a six year age difference between them, Harper liked to push Savannah’s buttons about her age sometimes.

They walked on through the city toward the Downtown Market for a Vintage Street Fair. Savannah was immediately drawn to a display of fresh herbs and snatched up some rosemary and mint for baking. Harper wandered the long row of booths, keeping an eye out for anything that would add to the decor of their shop. She settled on a cute vintage sign that read “Bake Shoppe” and a turquoise cake stand for home.

As she passed another booth on her way to find Savannah, she noticed a display of vintage brand gums—Clove, Teaberry, Beemans, and Black Jack. She immediately thought of Brett, who was a lover of all things black licorice, and grabbed him a couple packs of Black Jack.

“What did you find?” Savannah asked when they found each other.

“Just a couple things.” Harper gave her a peek.

“Oooh, I love the color of that cake stand.” Savannah showed her a fun vintage floral apron she’d found, as well as cookie cutters, muffin tins, and jello molds from the 1950s.

“Don’t you already have some of those from your childhood?”

“Harper!”

Harper exploded in fits of laughter.

“You are the worst.”

“You love me,” Harper said with a smile.

“You’re lucky I do.” Savannah winked.

Long after Harper had gone to bed that night, she was awakened by a pounding on her door. She squinted through sleep-heavy eyes to see the alarm clock on her nightstand.

2:12 a.m.?

She was on high alert as she quietly moved through her apartment and peeked through the peephole.

Logan? She squinted to see more clearly. Is he carrying something?

“Logan, it’s the middle of the night,” she spoke through the door.

“I need your help. Please, Harper. You know I wouldn’t come here unless I had no other choice.”

She sighed as she opened the door, then gasped at the sight of Logan with a little girl clinging to him. Tiny arms were wrapped tightly around his neck, and her curly head was buried under his chin.

“Can we come in?”

Harper shook off the shock. “Of course. Come in.” She held the door open for them. “What’s going on? Is she all right?” Harper could see that the little girl was trembling.

“There was a shooting in our neighborhood. The cops have been parked outside our place for hours with their lights flashing and officers on the ground looking for the suspect. She was scared to stay there, and I couldn’t get her back to sleep.” He rubbed his hand over the girl’s head and kissed her on the temple.

“Our place?”

Logan shifted the little girl in his arms so her face could be seen. “Harper, this is Kayla. My daughter.”

Harper’s mouth went dry. Daughter?

“Kayla, this is Miss Hensley.”

Kayla whimpered and buried her head in her daddy’s chest.

Harper tentatively reached out and touched Kayla’s back. “Hi, Kayla.” Her eyes met Logan’s momentarily before she turned her attention to the little girl again. “Are you thirsty? I think I have some chocolate milk in the fridge.”

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