“You’re cheating. You have to be.” She scoffs at my forty-nine point word and tosses her piece onto the board. “Am not. And you’re a sore loser. You’d never last a second with Grams in Scrabble. She's ruthless.” “Uh, pretty sure Grams doesn't cheat.” She feigns annoyance, but let’s be real…she’s just a sore loser. Show me a time where she hasn't been even a little disappointed in losing, and I'll admit defeat, but you can't. I didn't like admitting defeat any more than she did. Which is why I’m winning this game of Scrabble, and her heart. I’m going to make sure of it.
