Skye says sweetly. “What can I bring?” “You don’t have to bring a thing! Just your beautiful self. You know, Benny has been moping around here for more than a decade wondering what became of you.” Just shoot me already. It’s obvious that Skye has no clue what to say. “How about I bring dessert? Do you like tiramisu?” “I love tiramisu!” my mother gasps. But what she really means is, How many grandchildren will you give me?
