Page 17 of Always Knew It Was You

There was a building he wanted to renovate and he convinced me to put my bid on the project.

And then got Tristan to reject it, knowing it would hurt more coming from him than from my dad.

“It’s nothing personal, Micah,” Tristan said apologetically at the time. “It just wasn’t good enough, at least not to the stakeholders.”

But I knew my design was good. I poured my heart and soul into it, so I didn’t understand why he was saying that. Plus, it hurt.

It was one thing to be told I was talentless by my father. It was another for it to be Tristan, who I looked up to so much.

Only later did I realize that my father put him up to it.

Plus, it wasn’t just that. Dad also somehow planted moles in my budding company to report my moves to him. Then he made sure to obstruct those as much as possible. Blocking business deals, leaking scandals... all to make me give up.

And he got his wish.

My father’s continued sabotaging efforts crashed the company enough for me to give up on that dream.

And I’ve been making him pay for it ever since with my blatant life of debauchery.

“Anyway, that’s not the point,” I say, eager to get this conversation back on track. “The point is now I’m ready and I finally have something I want to do, something I’m good at.”

“As opposed to the last ten things that you didn’t want to do and were terrible at?”

“Just hear me out, Grandfather, alright? At least give me a chance to convince you.”

He stares at me and then takes another sip of his orange juice, which is probably all the allowance I’m getting.

I take a deep breath, steeling myself. I’ll have to be honest and just a little vulnerable, which I hate doing but honesty is the only thing that will convince him right now.

“I’ve always liked architecture, even though Dad disapproves. Always. All those years I’ve been out of college and wandering around, I haven’t been doing nothing. I’ve been exploring architecture from different countries, and studying design and sustainability. Did you know that biophilic designs have recently been proven to improve health outcomes and increase productivity in the workplace? Did you know that Asian bamboo architecture is seeing a rise in popularity in the West? Did you know how many sample designs I’ve drawn in that time that will never see the light of day? Because Dad doesn’t know and he doesn’t care to hear any of that. All he wants me to do is be a good boy and take Tristan’s place. But that’s not for me.”

I swallow back the bitterness, although some of it probably leaks into my voice. I also fight the surge of emotion that always hits when I think about Tristan being gone.

My grandfather’s expression doesn’t change. Not because he doesn’t care. Losing Tristan was as hard for him as anyone else, but he’s better at controlling his emotions than all of us combined.

“For now,” I continue, “Dad wants me to prove myself by running this hotel in Laketown. It’s a hotel with a lot of tragedy and the public is eating it up right now so there’s a lot of buzz. But that will probably die off soon. There isn’t anything really special about the place and the town itself is boring as all get out. I think it’s going to be a massive waste of time, but Dad isn’t ready to listen to me and wants to force me to stay there and run it, maybe so he can blame me when it doesn’t work out.”

My grandfather eyes me shrewdly for a few minutes, with a gaze that used to make me quail when I was younger. It’s hard to tell in situations like this, but the old man has a softer heart than he puts off.

I remember how he used to terrify me when I was younger. Until one day, I fell out of a tree and broke my leg. No one else was home except him and Elvira, and he picked me up and packed me into his bed. He ordered me to be silent while he worked, but I still kept crying about the pain while waiting for the doctor. And then my grandfather sighed and came to me. I thought he would tell me to shut up again, but the old man got in bed with me and held me while I sobbed.

That was when I saw that his bark was worse than his bite and that he had a soft spot for me. So I use that to my advantage now. He’s the only one who can defy my father. I just have to push the right buttons.

But with time and too much button-pushing, his dials were getting rusty.

Elvira comes out to deliver two cappuccinos while Grandpa deliberates. I shoot her a smile in thanks, and as she leaves, I take a sip from my cappuccino cup.

“When do you think you’ll be ready for marriage?”

The question takes me off guard so much that the coffee instantly shoots the wrong way and I spray it out on the table, becoming a coughing blubbering mess. Elvira sends me a wry look, to which I respond with an apologetic wince as she whips out a clean rag from her pocket and begins dabbing at the mess.

“What kind of question is that?” I ask my grandfather after Elvira retreats.

“It’s a serious question,” he says. “You’re nearly forty Micah–”

“Thirty-five.”

“And time waits for no one,” he says. “You keep running from thing to thing lacking stability, lacking the resolve and drive necessary to push past the hard parts. And I don’t blame you for not having those skills. Perhaps your father and mother have spoiled you too much. But at some point, you’re going to have to grow up, and having a woman by your side would help with that.”

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