Page 28 of Never Forget

“I didn’t say that. This is a great place. I’m just curious. Is it not finished or something? No AC?”

I frown, not answering right away. “It’s finished.”

Scott waits for me to say more. It’s annoying how patient he is.

“That’s my grandparents’ house.”

“Oh. So you built their house first, then? That was thoughtful of you. Are they out of town or something? I didn’t see any signs someone was there.”

“They, uh… They haven’t moved in.” The words come out flatter than I intended, betraying my feelings about my grandparents’ house still standing vacant after it’s been finished for months.

Scott turns slightly. “Why not? Haven’t you been working on this place for like a year?”

“They’re just not ready, I guess.” He doesn’t push the topic, which somehow makes it worse. I take another drink of my beer. “I’m honestly not sure they’ll ever move in,” I admit on a sigh.

That gets his attention. I can feel him turn to look at me without looking up at him.

“I built that house to their exact specifications,” I continue quietly. “Every detail. Every request. Half the time I was convinced they were making things up just to make the project harder.”

Scott chuckles.

“I’m serious. The number of conversations I’ve had about cabinet heights should qualify me for some kind of certification.”

“So, what, they don’t like the house?”

I stare out across the water, trying to think of how to explain twenty-seven years of being a disappointment to the people who raised me.

“It’s complicated. I don’t think it’s the house, it’s just… They don’t really approve of me.”

Scott tenses suddenly. “Because you’re gay?”

I huff out a laugh. “Bisexual, actually. But no, that’s not it.”

Something like relief flickers across his face. Or maybe it’s embarrassment. “Sorry I jumped to that conclusion.”

“It’s fine. Honestly, they probably would prefer that I married a nice woman and had some kids since they think I have a choice in the matter.”

Scott’s jaw tightens. Does Scott’s family not approve of his sexuality? I decide not to unpack that right now, but file it away for later.

“They don’t approve of my lifestyle as a musician.”

“What, like the sex, drugs, and rock-n-roll part?”

“Definitely that,” I laugh. “But they probably wouldn’t approve even if I was a concert pianist.”

His eyebrows rise. “The music in general? Really?”

“Yep.”

“Even though you’re a multi-platinum Grammy winner? You’re, like, super famous. And super rich.”

I shrug. “They don’t care about all that.”

“What about getting to travel the world doing something you love and bringing happiness to people? Not to mention all the amazing charity work you all do, the awareness you’ve brought to important causes, the money you’ve raised… Surely they’re proud of that.”

The confusion on his face is almost funny.

“They really, really didn’t want me to be a musician.”