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“We don’t have plans tomorrow. You can still go to whatever it is.”
“We don’t?”
Saturday was normally the day where we stayed at his house, working together. I edged a toe nervously around the zig-zag patterns of the wood grain in the flooring. I still hadn’t removed my coat. I wasn’t sure how long I would be staying. Brandon reached out tentatively to touch my hand.
“Am I really in that much trouble for trying to help?” he asked.
The confusion in his voice deflated me. I sighed and set my purse on the console, then took off my coat and hung it on the coatrack.
“No,” I admitted. “I’m frustrated with you, but I’m not going to dump you for helping my family.”
Still avoiding his careful gaze, I turned to the living room, where the fire was lit, as per usual, despite it being a nice spring day. I glanced around suspiciously.
The furniture had been rearranged. The couch had been moved closer to the arched entry and turned perpendicular to the fireplace, its spot replaced with a matching love seat that now looked toward the fireplace. Beyond that, the firelight flickered off something large, shiny, and black.
I froze.
“Maybe we should go out to dinner. Come upstairs. I’ll get dressed.”
“What the hell is that?”
My question was obviously rhetorical. The piano was massive, taking up most of the space in the far corner of the room, surrounded by the windows where Brandon had originally discovered me, yet leaving enough space for people to sit in them while…someone…played. Waving away Brandon’s attempts to take my hand, I strode across the room to examine the instrument more closely.
Like everything else in Brandon’s house, it was the best money could buy. A concert grand piano, it was at least nine feet long, with glossy black lines that bore no trace of dust or fingerprints. Everything was closed to protect the interior from dust, but I knew that the inside, if opened, would reveal the soundboard and shiny bronze strings.
I turned back to Brandon. “This is a Steinway.”
From the foyer, he nodded, eyes wide. “Yes.”
I looked at the piano, then back to him. “This is one of the most expensive pianos in the world. It’s the same piano that’s at Carnegie Hall.”
He didn’t affirm my statement—he didn’t need to.
“Why did you buy this?” I asked.
My voice was shaky—the rising anxiety was building in my stomach again as that feeling of being overwhelmed, which had seemed everywhere when I had first met Brandon, returned like a tidal wave. Brandon stepped into the room as if he were approaching a wild animal.
“Why do you think?” he asked softly. “There’s only one pianist who spends time here.”
I couldn’t move; my legs felt like tree trunks, completely rooted to the floor. He came to stand in front of me and set a hand casually on the top of the piano, uncaring of the smudges his fingers would leave.
“This isn’t some lame trick to make you think I’m someone I’m not,” he said. “I told you that when I gave you something, I wanted it to be for you. From me. And this is. It’s foryou, Red.”
The sound of my nickname shattered the fragile shell protecting the emotions that had been ebbing and flowing for the last several hours—hell, for the last two weeks. I’d just, literally a few moments ago, gotten my head wrapped around him paying off my dad’s embarrassing debt. Barely. And now he’d bought me this.
“Why?” I asked in a low, barely controlled whisper. I was afraid of letting out all the confusing emotions I felt. I didn’t know what I’d say if I did.
Brandon caressed my chin and jaw. “Why? For the same reason that I do anything for you, Skylar. Because I love you.”
The words sailed over my head as if I hadn’t even heard them. I shook my head. “This isn’t love.”
“No? Then what is it?”
“Bribery.”
The hand on my chin dropped immediately. “Are you serious?” Brandon’s voice broke with the incredulity.
He stepped away, and I stared back at the piano. The instrument was a behemoth, made to fill the space of concert halls, not living rooms. Brandon gave and gave and gave, and although he had absolved my father’s debts, I was steadily feeling more and more debts piling on my shoulders. I could never hope to repay any of this level of generosity––how could I? How could I be with someone who would always be able to give more to me than I could to him? To whom I’d always feel indebted?
