Page 55 of Love Felt Like This

“Yeah, something like that.”

“I’ve done that before,” Greg says. “With art. I used to paint a lot. Portraits, mostly.”

“Used to?”

“Well, then I got into hydroponic plants.”

I suck in a breath.

Oh, Greg…

“Basically, I grew tomatoes in my basement,” he explains. I’ll give him credit: Uncle Greg might be odd, but he doesn’t enjoy people getting lost in conversation. “Didn’t last long. And then I got into aquariums.”

“Greg is a hobbyist,” Nana adds.

“Aquariums?” Griffin asks. “I had a goldfish for about fifteen years, but I don’t know if that counts.”

Greg nods. “Definitely does. Normally they don’t make it a week past whatever fall festival kids win them from. An epidemic, honestly.”

“Yeah, I got him from a festival. I didn’t go to sleep until I was sure he’d make it through the night,” Griffin continues. “Kept feeding him. Plunked him into a bowl. You know.”

“Good call. Plunking early is key,” Greg says with a grin.

Ava squeals from her booster seat. I look over as Pudge sniffs her shoes.

“Pudge, come on,” Rob pleads, patting his knee. Pudge blows out a tired breath and ambles away.

“So, where are you staying?” Dad asks.

“Some house in…Burnsville? I think?” Griffin says.

Dad gawks. “Burnsville?!”

“It’s not too far, though.”

“Burnsville—”

Mom winces. “That is kinda far. You’re not in town?”

“No, that’s where Jimmy—my manager—found the closest rental.”

“I guess Daisy is out of town, isn’t she?” Dad muses to Mom.

“She comes back soon,” Greg says, then adds to Griffin, “Daisy runs our cottages up here. She tends to cut town in January.”

“You know that schedule well,” Rob mumbles.

Greg side-eyes him with a smirk. He headlocks him and scruffs the top of his head. “Little shit.”

“Greg,” Mom says with a sigh.

Nana snorts.

“Ma, c’mon, he’s not funny,” Mom says.

“I’m the baby,” Greg says, spearing green beans on his fork. “I’m hilarious.”

“You’re in your fifties.”