Lanie
Erica hung up, leaving me with a silent car, a giant painting, and one s**t-eating grin.
On the drive home, my pulse pounded in my ears. Thankfully, I had a ground-floor apartment. Trying to get the painting up a flight of stairs would have been awful.
Once inside, I set it against the living room wall and finished ripping off the rest of the paper.
Gorgeous. Amazing. Perfect.
There weren’t enough adjectives to properly describe it.
I’d have to get some nails into the wall later, but right then, a more pressing issue commanded my attention. Drawing up Andrew Marx’s number on my phone, I gave him a call.
I’d already programmed his digits in earlier that morning, just in case there was a disruption with Raven and I needed to get in touch quick and, also, maybe for other, more pe
