Chapter 110

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"What in the actual hell do you think you are doing?"

The two full grown women looked at the smaller, built boy. Both wore glares that could cut through metal. Their hands rested stoutly on their hips.

"Tell your grandmother, or whoever this woman is, that she had no right to butt into how I raise my child. Her statement crossed a line." Then as if to prove a point the women drew a line in the air and then proceeded to have two fingers saunter over it.

"I wouldn't have commented if the boy was as light as a feather! He clearly doesn't eat enough!"

Tom was shaking with rage and finally burst. He yelled in anger, grabbing both of the women's attention.

"We all know Tord has unhealthy habits. And the only blame is his father. Now instead of fucking disagreeing and being petty like three-year-olds," he paused to give them a pointed look before continuing, "we should work together to, I don't know, maybe actually fucking help the boy we care about."

"T-"

"Shut up! You both are just making him feel worse. Now get back in there and be civilized or I am literally going to punch you both." His voice then got soft and he held his hands up in mock retreat. "Grammy I love you."

Laila let out a huff and smacked him upside the head. They then returned together into the room Tord was sitting. He was staring sadly at his soup, forcefully digging to the bottom as if it contained gold. Tom grabbed Tord's hand under the table, and the boy seemed to relax. He gave a grimaced smile as the spoon finally clacked against the porcelain cupplry.

"Everybody ready for the rest of the meal?"

Everyone nodded, even Tord. And Mrs. Laila gracefully got up to bring out the rest of the plates. Granny got up to help, and together they brought out plates of pasta, chicken, and cooked carrots. They then sat back down and the silence consumed the room. They all ate, and Tom was going slower than his growling stomach would like due to his focus on softly circling his thumb over his boyfriend's hand.

"Granny," Tom stated through the silence, trying to use his words to cut through it like a knife. He didn't like how this dinner had been going and was hell-bent on changing that. "You should tell Mrs. Larrison about your flower shop."

"Ah yes. That place is my flesh and bones. Figuratively of course." She let out a soft and nervous chuckle. "Me and my Casey started it back in the day. She was ignorant to the flowers meaning, but that didn't stop her from loving them. It was an out of the blue type of thing. One day she came home and told me she had bought a shop and was going to sell flowers. I told her she was insane, and she was. Looking back I think that was the time she got diagnosed. With cancer I mean. She had always been spontaneous, but once her death was written in stone she wasn't afraid of nothing. I still remember her joyful glee as she yelled, 'what's the worst that could happen? I'd die? Babe I already have a foot and an arm in my grave.' That women gave me more heart attacks than this one does." She pointed over at Tom with a soft smile. She then looked at Trisha and cleared her throat. "Well enough about me, what about you?"

"What about us?"

"What's your work, basic lifestyle. Such and such."

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