He shoved his hands on his hips. “She can’t speak Russian, but I can. And I heard what you and Dad said last night.”
At least his mother had the decency to look flustered. “It was a rough night.”
No kidding. Not all of their family gatherings ended with one of their children tied to an appliance, but when they did, it was because Babushka was stirring up shit.
He chanced a glance across the street, but they’d all gone inside.
“Mom, Heather does seem really nice,” Anna tried. At least one of them was coming around to his side. “And Jase seems happy. We should fix this. Make sure she knows she’s always welcome at the house.”
“She’s at her shop. I’ll walk over with you. Elizabeth?” Jase hollered over his shoulder. “I’m running out for a bit.”
He led his reluctant parents and sister to the front of Heather’s shop.
Anna laid a hand on his shoulder. “Jase, we really want you to be happy. That’s what all of this is about.”
“Then lay off and just let things be.” He pulled open the door and gave a wave to the cashier. He’d been around enough lately, she didn’t even question him going straight to the back.
Heather glanced up and her smile lit her whole face. It wasn’t lost on him that she was smiling like that for him. His mother, father, and Anna followed behind. Heather’s smile disintegrated.
It was apparently cockie day at the shop because she had trays and trays of them on the table in front of her. All the blood in his body dropped to his toes. He sucked in a breath.
Babushka and her comrades were decorating cockies.
“Jase, you brought your parents. And your sister. To my kitchen.” Heather stared daggers at him.
Some of the cockies were even decorated like policemen and firemen and…no. No more looking, because what he saw his mother saw. And his mother was not going to be okay with the penis-shaped firemen cockies on Heather’s tray. Although, he had to give it to Heather, the way she did that helmet was very creative.
He tilted his head. Yeah, he never would’ve thought to do it that way.
“We’re supposed to be making flower cookies for prom,” Heather said, unmoving. “But I have orders…and they were more excited about these.”
“Ve need to vork on the foreskins.” Babushka emerged from behind a rack of trays. “They look better in the bouquets.”
“What on earth?” His mother stared at the trays of cookies.
“They insisted,” Heather said, her face pale. “Babushka’s idea.”
Of course it was.
One of the elderly women icing veins onto her cockie glanced to his mother. “The thick ones are easier to handle. Go for those.”
“She means the cookie,” Heather said quickly. “They don’t break as easily.”
His father said nothing, his mouth simply opened and closed with no sound emerging. That was a first.
“They came to apologize for the other night.” He scrubbed a hand at his neck. “I didn’t realize it was bachelorette party day.”
Anna didn’t say anything, she just stood there, eyes wide. “Why are they decorated like policemen?”
“It’s a new thing I’m trying. So far customers love the unique icing.” Heather started strong with her enthusiasm, but she lost all her steam there at the end. Probably because his mother’s expression was equal parts horror and anger.
“This isn’t all I make,” Heather said quickly. “I mean, obviously, because I brought you the flower ones. We do all shapes. For weddings. Kids’ birthday parties. And different flavors. Lemon, chocolate chip, snickerdoodle. But these pay a lot of the bills. And they’re just for fun—”
“Vould you like to try one?” Babushka held up one that…yes, it was a foreskin penis. “They are delicious.”
And that’s the story of how his grandmother bit off the tip of a dick cookie in front of his mother.
Heather gasped. His father paled. Anna’s jaw dipped further, her mouth the shape of an O. His mother didn’t seem to be breathing.
