Page 79 of Ask Your Mom If I'm Real

He snorted. “You got money?”

I almost wanted to walk out.

I would have walked out, honestly, but the look of dejection on Merriam’s face had me stilling my frame.

“Go offer them a sample,” I suggested. “I’ll wait.”

She looked at me with relief and picked up a tray, heading out the front door.

The moment the door closed behind her retreating back, I said, “You give her that bruise?”

His eyes narrowed. “Who the fuck are you to ask that?”

“I’m no one,” I said. “I just met her. We were having a good conversation about what I should buy my grandmother when you came in here and made me want to turn right back around. But the look of sadness on her face at the thought of a sale leaving is making me stay.”

“Stay away from my daughter,” he growled.

“Maybe I should say the same to you,” I suggested.

The man growled and stormed back into the back, door swinging.

I was watching the door so hard that I spotted a little blonde head peek out before the door stopped with its swinging.

I stared a bit and smiled when the door cracked a little more, and not only could I see blonde hair, but a red and green sweatpants set.

A very familiar red and green sweatpants set.

A pair of vivid blue eyes watched my every move as I started to walk around the store, looking for something to buy my grandmother.

I found a lot, actually.

Despite the asshole that owned it, there were a lot of little things that I’d found that would make my grandmother smile and remember her childhood.

I specifically remembered her telling me a story about Pixy Sticks when I was a teenager, and how our grandfather used to go buy them for her before their dates.

I picked up quite a bit and was watched the entire time.

The little girl had come out from behind the door at one point and started following me around.

Needless to say, she wouldn’t be winning any hide and seek contests.

But she was fucking adorable.

In the little glimpses I got before she would hide behind a shelf or scamper into another aisle, I could tell that she was a very curly-haired blonde with bright, vividly blue eyes. She was wearing a Christmas sweatpants set, and brand-new shoes.

She was also carrying around a stuffed animal that was also very familiar.

“This one,” a cute little voice whispered.

I watched as a little hand came out from between the shelves from the other side and pointed down at a chocolate Santa Claus.

I picked it up and whispered back, “What else?”

I followed the steps.

And though I never saw anything but her hand again while she took me around the store, I realized that it was the cutest thing in the world to be told what to buy by a little sweetheart.

“This,” came another whisper as she pointed at a very large sucker the size of my head.

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