Page 61 of Sweet Twins For My Brother's Best Friend

Taken aback, I look over at her sharply, and then a laugh bubbles out of me.

“I guess so, yeah. Did it work?"

Smirking, her eyes still on Lucy, she murmurs, “I guess so, yeah.”

I kiss the top of her head haphazardly between her bouncy steps, my lips sliding across her hair. I watch with satisfaction as a blush creeps into her cheeks.

“Oh, let’s grab some veggies from this guy. His produce is amazing.”

Hannah’s laugh sprinkles out of her. “God, you’re a nerd. Okay, let’s go.”

I walk up to the farmer who sold me the bok choy. His mustache is freshly trimmed and even this time, but he can’t hide his crooked teeth when he smiles.

“Well, hey there. I remember you. Who’s this?”

“This is my girlfriend,” I announce, looking over at Hannah’s widening eyes.

“Does she know that?” he asks with a smile.

“She does now,” I respond, knocking her hip with mine as I clutch onto the heavy box for dear life, very aware of the mess that dropping it would make.

“What have you got for me today?”

“Well, congratulations. How would you feel about some radishes and zucchini? They’re growing like weeds, just enormous and full of flavor.” His eyes twinkle as he looks between Hannah and me.

“Sure, lay ‘em on me.” I barely finish getting the words out before Hannah doubles over and squats down low to the ground.

At first, I think that she’s looking closely at something in his booth, but the farmer says in his heavy accent, “Miss, are you okay?”

I look down at her and realize that her pallor has gone even paler than before, and she’s closed her eyes.

“Hannah? What’s wrong?”

“You’ve got your hands full. Let me help.”

The farmer crosses over to our side and helps lift Hannah up by her elbow.

We walk out of the cramped space together and to a shady spot under a tree. Hannah leans on the man in a way that tells me she really isn’t feeling well.

“What’s wrong, baby?” I whisper to her as I set down the box of jams.

I envelop her in my arms and rub her back before she pushes me off her and doubles over to throw up on the ground in the grass by the tree.

I gather her long, copper hair in my hands and hold it away from her face for her as she continues to vomit, her wretches loud and punctuated by agonized gasps for air.

The farmer fans Hannah’s face as I hold her hair, and eventually when she stops, she stays still a moment, her hands on her knees. She looks up at me, her cheeks red with effort, and tells me, “I think I need to go home.”

“Of course, let me call a cab. Or let me call your brother.”

“No, no, she can’t wait. Let me drive you. I’ll get someone else to watch my booth.”

“No,” Hannah gasps. “I don’t want to bother anyone. If I could just have a little water, please. I’m sorry. I just…I don’t know. It’s the strangest thing, but I smelled something weird, and it just made me feel so nauseated. I’m okay now. Let’s just walk, it’s fine.”

“Hannah…I don’t think that’s a good idea. It sounds like you’re sick. Let’s just let him drive us. It’s okay to lean on people,” I protest, afraid that something’s really wrong.

“It’s really not an inconvenience. I’m happy to help.”

“No! I just want to keep walking. Please,” Hannah begs, her color returning.

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