I was dreading this. “Yes, unfortunately.”
“Do you have any specific requests?”
“Just be yourself. I’ll handle all the specifics.”
“Okay.” She moved away slightly and snuggled with a pillow.
I stared at her, wishing she were in my arms again.
“I’m so tired.”
I leaned over and turned off the lamp. The room became black.
She sighed. “But I have to play for a little bit.”
What? “Music?”
“Yeah.” She stood up then braided her hair quickly, putting it over one shoulder. I noticed she always did this when she was in a certain mood, an artistic mood.
“Baby, if you’re tired, just go to bed.”
“It’s hard to explain, but I have to do this. I won’t be able to sleep unless I do. It’s an unbridled passion I can’t control. My heart beats to the sound of my own drum, literally.”
That made me more attracted to her, for some inexplicable reason. When she stopped our foreplay to write a song, I was slightly annoyed, but more turned on at the same time.
“I’ll be back in an hour or so.” She leaned over and kissed me.
“Can I watch?”
“Umm…”
“Forget I said anything.” Damn. I really loved watching her. When she played on the stage, she always stared at my face. I thought I comforted her, not intimidated her. I wasn’t sure why this would be any different.
“No, you can. Only under two conditions.”
This was a side to her I’d never seen. “Name them.”
“You can’t speak at all. And you can’t ask me about my music now or ever—at least about the music I’m making at that time.”
Huh? “Why?”
“When I write music, it’s really personal. I don’t like to share the process with anyone. It’s heartbreaking and painful. And it’s mine. But I’ll share it with you because I know you’ll respect my privacy and space. No one else.”
Wow. I was honored. “That makes me feel special.”
“You are special.” She gave me a fond look. “I have your word?”
“You always have my word.”
♫
Prudence didn’t turn on the lights. Only the faint light from the window drifted into the parlor, and it shined on the grand piano. A few pieces of paper were on the surface, and she scribbled a few notes before she hit the keys.
I wasn’t prepared for what was about to ensue.
Her words were soft while she hit the keys lightly. As soon as I heard the chords, I knew it would be a heartbreaking ballad. She didn’t look at me once as her fingers glided across the keyboard. And her tears broke my heart.
The first thing I wanted to do was rush to her and hold her in my arms, but I vowed to stay back and remain a bystander.
It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life.
Her lyrics were metaphorical, so I couldn’t determine exactly what it was about. But I knew one thing; someone ripped her heart to pieces, torched it in fire, and then fed the shattered remains to a cliff face. I never would have suspected she was broken, but she clearly was. How she kept it hidden from the world was beyond me. Her music was beautiful. But damn, it hurt.
When she finished, she was still crying. She wiped the tears away then stared at the piano, seeing something I couldn’t. With wet fingers, she folded her papers and crinkled them. She took a deep breath then walked past me, not looking at me.
I resisted the urge to hold her but I did hold my tongue. I’d never experienced so much pain before, not like this. I’d been burned badly, had my world ruined, but her pain was a million times more sufferable. And I had no idea why.
When I went into the bedroom, she was already tucked under the sheet. After I lay beside her, I stared at her face. I knew I wouldn’t get any sleep, not after that torture.
I didn’t say a word or bring it up, but I didn’t let her sleep alone on her side of the bed. I wrapped my arms around her and held her close. We shared one pillow and one blanket. When I heard a quiet sniff, I bit my tongue so I wouldn’t speak.
I comforted her silently, running my fingers through her hair and gripping her tightly. An hour later, she finally dozed off. But I stayed wide awake, too disturbed to sleep.
Chapter Nineteen
Prudence Clearwater
Cash kept his word and didn’t question me. He acted like nothing had changed, which was exactly what I wanted. But he did look at me differently. There was pain behind his eyes, a look of pity that I didn’t want to see. But I couldn’t change that.
I’d been through a lot of shit, but the last thing I wanted was sympathy. People had endured far worse than I had, and my sadness was excusable. I accepted that and tried to move on. As time wore on, I realized that would never happen. But it was my problem. No one else’s.
When I returned to the apartment, I played the song on the guitar. It was a better ballad on the piano, but I could make it more upbeat through the strings of the guitar.
Desi and Mason went to a party with some people they met at one of our gigs. Cash, my only friend, had to work late so he wasn’t available. Gavin didn’t go out either, so I was stuck with him at the apartment. I hoped it wouldn’t be a problem.
I made myself a frozen waffle then watched TV on the couch. I didn’t have a TV in my room, so I was stuck in the living room. And my fingers were singing with pain from plucking the strings so much. I needed a break.
“Wanna order a pizza?” Gavin came out of his bedroom shirtless.
I glanced at him then turned away. He had a nice body because he worked out so much, but I still didn’t stare. I didn’t want to give him the wrong idea. “Nah. I already made a waffle.”
He walked to the dryer and pulled out his clothes. He found a clean shirt and pulled it on. Most of us didn’t pack much because there wasn’t room. So I understood how Gavin could be out of clean clothes. “You’ll be hungry 30 minutes after you eat that. I’m ordering one.”
Whatever. I’d eat a free pizza.
He called and made the order. After he folded his laundry, he opened a beer and sat next to me on the couch. “How are you?”
“Good. How are you?”
“I’m exhausted.”
“Good thing we have a night off.”
“Definitely.” He rested his feet on the coffee table. “Write any more music?”