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Even so, I spent the rest of the afternoon painting. By the time I was finished, the combination of white trim and the deep blue color made me feel as if I were in the middle of a dream. I smiled. This wouldn't be a terrible place to spend the next several months at all.
"Wow," said Eric when he arrived back from the gym and popped in to take a look at my progress. "Looking good in here."
"Thanks," I replied with a smile as I started cleaning up the rollers. "It's going to come together, I think."
Despite the fumes and the aches in my arms from holding the rollers and brushes for so long, it felt really good to accomplish something. Actually, I hadn't felt this good in weeks.
We were interrupted by a knock at the door and a loud thump. Eric answered, and a few seconds later, he called for me.
"What is it?" I asked as I popped my head out of my bedroom, but no reply was necessary.
"Jeez, Crosby," Eric said bemusedly. "You really did go shopping today. But don't you need a bed more than this?"
He nodded his head at the two block-shaped delivery men who bookended a small upright piano.
I stared at it. "I didn't order this."
The courier in front pulled out a clipboard. "You Skylar Ellen Crosby?"
I crossed my arms. "Yes."
"Then this is for you. Sign here. Where do you want it?"
I accepted the clipboard and scanned the paper, looking for some sign of who had sent the elaborate present. There was no name on the paper, but I had a sinking feeling I knew. I hadn't heard from Brandon in several weeks. No flowers, no letters, all attempts to get me back had stopped. And now...a piano? How did he even know where I lived?
The delivery guy coughed, covering his mouth with a meaty hand. "So, where do you want it?"
I glanced at Eric, who was looking at the piano with a skeptical expression. "We, um...Crosby, it's kind of a small apartment, you know?"
The piano was small too, an Essex upright that would, no doubt, sound like a dream. I sighed. There really was no room for it in our tiny living room. And yet...I didn't quite have the heart to send it away.
"You can put it in my room," I said, gesturing behind me. "Far wall. Next to the closet."
With a grunt, the deliverymen rolled the piano into my room while I signed the sheet. Eric leaned against the wall, watching curiously.
"Another mea culpa?" he asked.
I hadn't told him much about what had happened with Sterling, but he obviously knew it had not ended well. Likely, I guessed, via Jane.
I shrugged. "Might be. I don't know why, though."
I would be lying if I said a part of me wasn't a little flattered. Happy to know Brandon was thinking about me, even if I told him not to.
"Ma'am?"
I turned around to where the deliverymen exited my bedroom. One of them held out another envelope.
"We were told to deliver that as well," he said.
I murmured my thanks and gave them each a twenty, wondering what the letter held. Brandon's letters always had a way of undoing me. It was scary, actually, how much I wanted it to be just one more beg for mercy, ending, as they all had: "Do you love me yet, Red? I love you always. Brandon."
I sat down on the couch while Eric loitered awkwardly, finally deciding to make some coffee. Taking care of women clearly wasn't Eric's forte, but it was nice of him to hang around. I pulled my knees up on the couch and opened the letter.
It was the last thing I expected.
Skylar,
Happy graduation, darling. I couldn't be prouder. A little something to remind you to have fun every now and then once you're off to the real world. Everyone needs to be an artist sometimes.
