Spin

Twenty-Seven

[RORY]

The two strangers carried the delicate instrument through the open front doors as I stepped aside, giving them as much room to play Tetris as possible. The piano's delivery had been expected and though I'd spent weeks eagerly awaiting its arrival, I was struggling to channel any excitement after what had unfolded that morning.

I followed along behind the pair of men, watching as they gripped the tattered cloth adorning it and occasionally cursed, presumably because of the weight. They paused at the beginning of the hallway, setting it down and glancing back at me for guidance.

Realization dawned on the younger one's features, his eyes lingering on a framed photo on the table beside me. His smile was subtle, knowing, as he looked directly at me.

"Last door on the left, please," I spoke steadily, not bothering to appear overly friendly. My cold demeanor was tactful. "I'll show you where to put it."

In reality, it was pretty self-explanatory and they didn't need me to assist them. Regardless, I was on their heels like a hawk after its prey, still as fiercely protective as ever – even if the subject of my protection didn't quite deserve it at that moment.

They made it to Finn's music room, following my careful instruction to tuck into the empty nook that I'd cleared by the window. I knew Finn found the view enchanting and I liked to think he'd enjoy the fresh breeze when he was writing. I watched as they removed the protective sleeve, my heart betraying me and warming at the memories that resurfaced. The old Yamaha was just as I'd remembered it, if not more perfect, home in his space.

"Thank you."

My tone was clipped, silently nudging them out of the room. I'd made the mistake once of giving a painter too much freedom, and he'd had a field day snapping photos and selling them to TMZ.

I walked them out and sent them on their merry way before shutting the door with a long, pent-up sigh. I pressed my back against the hardwood, closing my eyes and allowing just one more moment of quiet reflection.

The accusation had been petty at best, but it had done the trick. I was empathetic to his schedule, in fact – it killed me to see him so worn down. However, even I had my limits and I no longer pitied him. His intent had been to hurt me, and he'd succeeded.

I spent the morning working in the living room, trying to focus on the album review I owed Marisol by the end of the week. Unfortunately, I kept getting distracted by the lack of remorse from Finn. As time went on and I didn't get a text, my own anger grew. I'd requested to work from home for his sake, needing to ensure the piano arrived safely. It had, and my patience was gone as I quickly got dressed and packed up my stuff to work elsewhere.

-

I came home a few hours later and still hadn't heard a peep, any remaining sadness dissipating. Distracted on the hunt for my house keys, I nearly tripped – the first sign of surrender sitting on the front steps. There was no note, but the bouquet of expensive wildflowers spoke for itself.

Finn was lucky I at least got a good night's rest, or I would have made a show of cutting each of the stems in half and leaving them on his side of the bed. I opted for the next best thing, walking straight to his music room and placing them on top of the new piano. I didn't care to look at them and I wasn't impressed by the sheepish gesture.

It was a typical sunny LA day and I was struggling with writer's block, seeking yet another new setting to hopefully get the creative juices flowing. I grabbed my laptop, a baseball hat and my AirPods, heading into the backyard. I got comfortable on one of the chases, turned on my favorite Radiohead album and prayed inspiration would miraculously strike me.