CHAPTER TWO
SKYLAR
“Who did you get for the piano?” I ask, following Grayson inside like I live here. Which I don’t. Officially.
“Kit Morgan.” He places his load of bags filled with takeout boxes on the kitchen counter and steps aside for me to unload mine next. “You’ll dig him. He’s been my first choice of pianist for the last ten years.”
I make a face. “If he’s your favorite, how come he’s never worked on any of my stuff before?” Because I kind of thought I was Grayson’s favorite too.
He laughs at me. Something he does a lot more of when we’re standing in his house and not in an official work setting.
“You can drag the crazy back a little. I’ve tried to get him in on your projects plenty.
Timing just never worked in the past.” He turns and walks toward the swinging door connecting the kitchen to the main living space of the house.
“Food’s here,” he calls out into the great beyond.
Shortly after, footsteps can be heard shuffling their way toward us and the door swings back and forth several times while my brother and their three kids hustle into the kitchen.
“What did you get?” Brice asks, going straight for the first bag to unpack it.
“Hello to you to you.” Grayson has time for half a scowl before my brother abandons the takeout to smack a loud kiss on his husband’s lips. Then, Gray is all smiles. “Thai. I was craving Tom Yum Goong.”
“What’s that?” My nephew Kai’s cute little nose is scrunched up and his tiny, perfect brow is cocked with all the delighted curiosity expected of a five-year-old.
“It’s gross,” his sister Maya fills him in. She’s nine with a palette to match and thus she currently only enjoys dairy and carbs. Mac and cheese. That’s what she eats.
“It’s shrimp soup,” Finn says matter-of-factly. He’s thirteen and can’t be bothered with his sister’s childish ways anymore; he’s far too sophisticated now. “It’s spicy. You won’t like it.” Bit snobbish at the moment too, but I don’t mind.
“Also,” I say loudly over the commotion circulating around dinner. “I’m here.”
Everyone stops their digging around for food to stare at me. “You’re here every night,” Maya points out the obvious.
“You live here,” Kai adds, eyes going a little wide as they drift back and forth a bit confused by my outburst.
“No, she doesn’t,” my brother says dryly. “And someday, when you’re older and she finally goes back to her own house, you’ll understand that.”
“In any event,” I brush past my brother’s comments, “I like to be greeted.”
There’s an unenthusiastic hello from the crowd but it’s pretty much drowned out by the rustling of plastic bags as everyone resumes their hunt for dinner.
“You guys know I’m famous, right? Like, any other kitchen in the world would be thrilled to have me in it.” This at least gets a laugh out of my brother and two of the kids.
“Wait until after the album is done. Reappearing after five days in the basement studio is usually enough to garner some excitement,” Grayson mumbles so only I can hear.
“I think Brice is right,” I admit, twisting up my mouth. “I need to go home more.”
Grayson nudges my side with his elbow. “Funny, I thought Kai was right.” Then he winks, smoothly reaches past Brice and Maya to grab his container of Tom Yum Goong, snags a spoon from the dishrack by the sink, and has a seat at their kitchen table.
Where Gray had a very specific interest in dinner, mine is more scattered, and so I wait until everyone else has picked over the buffet before I make my plate.
By the time I’m done, I have one spoonful of everything and find the only seat at the table left is at the very end beside Kai.
I love my nephew, but I can’t help thinking it was intentional leaving me to sit with him.
Kai has a knack for wanting everything the person next to him has.
Doesn’t seem to matter how often we have the ‘grass isn’t actually greener on the other side’ talk with him, he continues to be certain the thing he wants most is what he doesn’t have.
I barely have my first bite situated on my fork when I hear it.
“That looks good.”
“I think so too.” I open my mouth to welcome my food.
“Can I try it?”
My mouth closes. It’s still empty. “Sure.” And my fork detours toward his.
“Yum!”
I’m glad to hear it. “Do you want to switch plates, Kai?” I offer, assessing the selection Brice put together for his son. It’s not terrible. And right now, probably presents my best bet at having an actual meal here tonight.
“No, thanks.” He grins, still chewing.
“Are you sure?” I offer again.
“Yep.”
I nod. I’d like to think that settles the matter, but I know it’s not likely. Still, I do the natural next thing and scoop up another bite.
“Oh, that looks good.”
“You’re killin’ me, kid.” I laugh. “Let’s make a deal. I’ll share with you if you share with me.”
He nods, smiling broadly. “Okay.”
It doesn’t deliver the most filling meal, but at least I finish dinner with something in my stomach.
If I’m being honest, food isn’t the main meal at this table anyway.
It’s the conversation. I don’t even participate in it.
I just like to listen, soak it up, and let it surround me like a warm hug.
The love that abounds among these five people is apparent in every laugh, every word, every exchanged glance, and it’s above and beyond anything I’ve ever put in my cheesy love songs.
Even if I don’t have this for myself, I love getting to come here and visit what my brother and Gray created out of their romance.
“So, you got the label to approve the new direction you’re going in with this album?” my brother asks after the kids have cleared their plates and taken dessert to the living room to watch a movie.
“Not exactly,” I admit, eyeing Grayson and wondering how much he’s going to tell my brother about the deal I made with Janelle.
“She gets to record her album her way as long as she promises to do everything she can to fall in love with love again in time to re-record it before the deadline, should she feel compelled to do so.”
Apparently, we’re telling him all there is to know.
“Oh?” Brice perks up at the conditions set forth for me. “Who gets to decide what everything entails?”
Grayson smirks. “Me.”
“Perfect.”
I glare at my brother. “Why is that perfect?”
“Because that means I get to play too.”
“How do you figure?”
He points at Gray. “Spousal privileges.”
“That’s bullshit,” I grumble, but I’m at the end of my argument. I’ve used this card in my favor one too many times when I wanted Grayson’s input on something my brother had control over. Can’t exactly put up a fight now just because it’s working against me.
“Going underground tonight?” Brice asks.
It’s his equivalent of asking us if we’re headed for the studio in the basement.
Grayson had it built when Maya was born and two parents for two kids seemed prudent.
We’ve done all of our major recording here since.
Final polishing still happens at one of the label’s studios, but all of our creative work, all the gold, that comes to life here. Underground.
“Yep.” I offer the answer I think sums it all up.
Grayson likes more details. “We’ve been in the groove the last two days. Might as well keep it going. Plus, the sooner we get this done the sooner we get to put your sister on Tinder.” He wiggles his brows, first at my brother, then at me.
I do nothing of the sort in return. In fact, nothing on my face wiggles. It does the opposite. “That’s never happening.”
“We’ll see,” my brother teases.
“You guys keep it up and you’re going to kill my muse and then I’ll have no choice but to drag out the recording process until seconds from the deadline.”
They both zip it after that.
After a moment of silence to acknowledge the truce, Grayson starts to drum his fingers on the table anxiously. “I’ll make coffee?”
I nod. “I’ll raid the pantry.”
Brice pushes his chair out and stands. “And I’ll get the hell out of the way.”
Twenty minutes later and Gray and I are walking into the basement.
Half of it was converted into a game room for the kids, the other half is completely dedicated to all things music.
From Gray’s extensive collection of instruments to the endless filing cabinets of sheet music (because he’s old school like that) to the entire wall of shelves filled entirely with old records (I mentioned he was old school, right?).
Scattered all around the space are random bits of furniture for comfy sitting, creative social gathering, and even the occasional nap.
At the very end of the space is the recording studio, built large enough to accommodate a full band though usually it’s just me and my guitar in there.
Still, I like it. Every last inch of this space fuels my muse.
I feel my fingers twitch, aching to pluck at strings and my throat open ready to belt out whatever emotions hide away at the depths of my core while I’m out in the world.
I’m on my last step my phone vibrates in my hand, and I glance at it automatically.
“Janelle?” Gray asks, looking over his shoulder.
“No.” I slide the phone into my pocket and out of sight.
I don’t need to read the whole message to get the meaning of it.
This is the seventh one like it I’ve gotten in the last few days, it’d be damn near impossible not to know what he wants by now.
“Just an update from the label about the changes they’ve been making since Barry’s death.
” It’s mostly true. Barry was the heart of the label, the man who signed me way back when.
Now that he’s gone, I’m afraid his passing is just the beginning of things coming to an end.
Time will tell just how much of what he built will die with him.
Gray takes the information at face value and goes about his business. I watch him as he gets everything ready.