Page 37 of A Taste of Vanilla

“Yikes,” Marley says when she reads it.

“I know.”

“It’s kind of funny.”

“Prophetic, actually,” I correct.

“Just a little.”

I park in the small lot behind the building, and Oliver pulls in beside me, killing the engine. He sits there for a second before getting out.

The back of Bitter Bloom is not glamorous. The dumpsters sit across the lot and the delivery door is a little rusty. The pavement is cracked and the mural I had started to paint last summer isn’t finished.

Our two businesses sit side by side, with a small covered alleyway between them that only we can access. The door to the apartment above the bar looks rusty and, well, kind of like a horror movie.

Oliver comes around carrying a bag.

“What’s that?” I ask.

“Supplies.”

I look between Oliver and Marley. “You guys stopped for supplies?” It would explain how long they took.

“You were crying near a Wawa. I kind of assumed the day wouldn’t get better through starvation.”

He hands the bag to Marley, who looks inside. “We’ve got water, chips, gummy worms, ibuprofen, and a bag of peanut butter cups.”

“You do love me.” I beam.

“I don’t deal with hungry people,” he mutters as he moves to my trunk.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“Getting whatever you need for the night.”

Inside are two reusable grocery bags, a box of cake boards, a pair of white sneakers, a half-empty case of bottled water, and a decorative throw pillow I had bought three weeks ago because it’s blue velvet and has little golden bees on it.

Marley stares at the pillow. “Why is that in your trunk?”

I shrug. “I was going to return it.”

Oliver picks it up, his eyebrow raised. “Were you?”

My shoulders slump. “No.”

He puts it back.

“Good,” Marley says. “It’s cute.”

Marley moves some things around. “Do you have clothes in here?”

“I have emergency leggings.”

Oliver rolls his eyes.

“And a band T-shirt.”

Marley digs through the back seat while Oliver grabs the case of water and sneakers. I stand by Penelope as they do, watching my friends take care of me.