The smell of old pages and new books mingled together. Connor felt the same as he had when setting foot on the boat last night—grounded.
“Marty,” Connor greeted.
Marty looked up from his book. His brow creased as he squinted, but his eyes widened as he recognised Connor.
“How tall you’ve gotten!” Marty declared in delight, a booming voice that didn’t fit such a frail form burst from the old man. He sprang up from his chair and rushed forward, alert eyes drinking in Connor. “And you’ve filled out! Come in, come in. We’ll go into the back for some tea.” He scuttled to the front door and flipped the closed sign, flicking the lock.
“You’ve got your nose stuck in a book as always, Marty,” Connor said, pretending that his emotions weren’t soaring steadfast into something positive.
“Best way to spend time, my boy.” Marty laughed. “I worried you wouldn’t come to see me. You’ve been home a while, yes? But you’re here now, and that’s what matters.”
Connor felt a tinge of guilt that he hadn’t come sooner. But he’d been afraid. What if he hadn’t been greeted like this? What if he’d stepped into a childhood treasure, and Marty had turned him away in disgust? He followed Marty into the back where his house was. The kitchen connected directly to the store. Connor had spent days and days on the armchair in the corner, where Marty would let him stay and read for as long as he liked.
Connor released a slow breath as his body unwound in relief.I’m glad Sam told me to visit.
Chapter Twelve
Bolstered by his success with Marty, Connor texted Trevor at lunch for a lift. Laurence tagged along, and nobody told Connor he was a nuisance the entire way home. They arrived back to the house to find the table set, and Laurence and Connor each carried two pizza boxes inside. Trevor strode to Edith and pressed a kiss to her cheek. His arm wrapped around her shoulders, and she smiled at him. Clearly the trouble from the morning had been worked through in Connor’s absence.
Laurence opened the pizza boxes one by one.
“Connor, did—” Trevor began.
“Dad,” Laurence interrupted in a sharp, angry voice.
Everyone looked at him in surprise. Laurence scowled at Trevor, who, with his eyes wide, was obviously taken aback by his youngest’s anger.
“What?” Trevor asked.
Nick frowned at Laurence, his brow creasing. Evenhewasn’t used to this.
“You didn’t get anything for Connor to eat,” Laurence accused, his voice biting.
Trevor’s eyes widened further. He gestured at the four extra large pizzas laid out on the table. “I didn’t expect you to lay claim to all of it, Laurence. There’s more than enough for all of us.”
Laurence’s scowl deepened. “There’s nothing vegetarian.”
Trevor’s mouth opened like he was going to say something, but no words came.
A stuffy feeling rose inside Connor, swelling within his chest and spilling over into his head. It was bright. Luminous. Like a sun had just exploded into existence within him. He ducked his face, but there was nothing he could do. The laugh got out. He did his best to smother it behind his hand.
Laurence was sweet—too sweet for his own good, Connor reckoned—but right now, he was ready to throw down with his dad. And over something so small.
“I didn’t do it on purpose,” Trevor said defensively. Of course he was defensive. Connor peeked up to see Laurence glaring at Trevor as if he’d just tried to run Connor over with his car. “I didn’t realise he was vegetarian—”
“Didn’t realise?” Laurence scoffed. “He’s been here a month; he’s never had a bite of meat even when the rest of us are eating it. And he always suggests vegetarian meals when you ask.”
“I also suggest fish,” Connor interjected, now that he had his smile under control. “I’m more pescetarian than vegetarian.”
“I wish you’d mentioned it,” Trevor said, voice laced with guilt.
Connor shrugged. “It hasn’t been an issue.”
“I don’t see how you wouldn’t have noticed,” Laurence said with his arms crossed, a damning look fixed on Trevor. Trevor squirmed.
Connor fought back another laugh.
“Leave him be,” Nick said to Laurence.
