Alex stared at his mother in disbelief.
This really is my mother, he thought.
He turned his head and saw the bed next to him stacked high with fruit baskets again. His shoulders slumped in defeat.
“Grandma, just come visit me. Please stop sending fruit baskets. I can’t eat all this. Last night I had the butler distribute everything people brought to the other patients on my floor.”
The old lady sniffed. “Your brothers bought those. Grandma didn’t spend a dime. You little brat, keeping secrets from me—bullying me because I’m old and useless. I was angry! Why would I buy you a fruit basket? You’re dreaming.”
“Grandma…” Alex said in a playful, pleading tone.
She reached out and poked his forehead. “Don’t call me that. It gives me goose bumps. Do you think you’re Belle? You’re nearly thirty and still acting like a spoiled child.”
“Even if I live to a hundred,” Alex said, grinning, “I’ll still be your good grandson. I’m allowed to act spoiled with you.”
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