Page 78 of Ask Your Mom If I'm Real

Cake.

Ice cream.

Candy.

Sweet cornbread.

Muffins.

You put sugar in it, she liked it.

That was part of our worry about her.

She’d suffered with high blood sugar.

Yet, giving up her Dr. Peppers and cake was an impossible task.

I’d rather die happy than sad.

My grandmother’s pre-diabetes had not come as a shock. Nor did her refusal to change her diet.

Honestly, I was just happy that she was now somewhere that we could keep an eye on her.

She was eighty years old, and had the iron will of a two-year-old refusing to give up something she wanted.

Needless to say, it definitely was a relief to have her so close, where we could check up on her, and make sure she hadn’t died of a sugar coma.

“Doesn’t everyone?” the prettiest girl I’d ever seen asked.

I grinned down at Merriam and said, “I’m not the biggest fan of sweets.”

Her mouth fell open in shock, which only highlighted the bruising around her face.

As a professional athlete, I was an expert in bruising.

As one of the enforcers for my team, I’d been doing the bruising thing since I was drafted. Originally, I’d been a forward, and hadn’t had to deal with all the fighting. But my coach had taken one look at me and demanded that I switch to enforcer, and here I was, fifteen years later, sporting bruises every fuckin’ day of my life.

“You don’t like sweets?” she gasped.

“I don’t like…” I started to say but a male’s voice came from the back, sharp and stinging.

“You have other customers, Merriam.”

I looked up to see an angry looking older guy standing in a doorway that led to the back, his arms folded across his chest, and a look in his eye that made me realize who, exactly, had given her that bruise.

Merriam and I both looked around to see what other customers he was talking about.

The only one I could spot was standing outside, checking out the window display.

“Father,” she said carefully. “As soon as they come inside, I’ll definitely get with them.”

“You’ll go out there now and offer them a free sample,” he demanded. “I’d like to sell something today.”

My brows rose. “Sir, I can assure you that I came here to buy something for my grandmother, who has a tremendous sweet tooth.”

His eyes narrowed on me. “You look like you’re just distracting my daughter from her work.”

“I might have,” I admitted. “But I’m fairly sure I’ll be the best customer you’ll have come in here today.”

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