Free The Girl in the Comfortable Quiet by Susan Ward

my hair, and his lips touching in kisses.
He’s trying to comfort me. I can feel that I’m scaring him with the intensity
of my emotions. But the way he stared at me—nothing in my life could have
prepared me for that. Emotions I’ve never seen before, anguish and other things
complex and beyond me.
    I should never have brought up that part of our
history. I should have left it alone. I’ve hurt Alan and didn’t want that. His
muscles shudder as they hold me, and my heart clenches and I cry harder.
    I don’t know what is happening here. I don’t know
why Alan is crying, too. We are together in some dark, shadowy place that I
don’t understand, alone and together. I can’t seem to calm for either of
us. And Alan can’t seem to calm for me.
    ~~~
    I
lift up my head from the cushion. I grow aware that it’s night and I’m alone on
the couch and I fell sleep in Alan’s arms.
    My gaze flitters around the room. Is Alan still
here? I try to pick up clues from my house. My eyes lock on the open door to
the lower level, and then I notice very faint music playing in the studio down
there.
    Alan stayed and for some reason he’s amusing
himself with my very inexpertly recorded tracks. Shit. This afternoon was
emotionally draining. It would have been better for us both if he’d left while
I was sleeping.
    I sit up, running my hands through my hair,
debating whether I should go down there. Then I hear the music shut off and footsteps
on the stairs. Alan enters the room, closes the door and settles in a chair
across from me.
    “What are you still doing here?” I ask.
    “It didn’t seem right to cut out on an upset,
sleeping pregnant woman alone on a mountain. Even I am not enough of an asshole
to do that.”
    He says that with just enough elegant inanity to
save us both from this extremely awkward moment. He’s here, but tentative and
cautious about how to deal with me. Somehow that makes me feel less
off-balance.
    “I’m OK, Alan. You don’t have to hang around here
because of me.”
    Alan smiles, amused. “I stayed because I wanted
to, Chrissie.”
    I lower my gaze. “Thank you.” I don’t know what
else to say.
    He lights a cigarette and settles back in his
chair, more relaxed. Jeez, he’s not planning on staying longer? Even after
sleeping I feel physically depleted.
    “While I waited for you to wake I listened to
your music, Chrissie.”
    My cheeks flush, since I’ve never shared my music
with anyone but Neil. “It’s just something I’m doing to kill time up here.”
    “It shouldn’t be.” His gaze sharpens. “It’s good.
Very good.”
    I roll my eyes. He’s just being nice. He can’t be
serious.
    “In fact, there’s a song down there I would like
to record, if you’ll let me.”
    I’m caught completely off guard. I stare at him,
shocked.
    “The music is good,” he continues into my
silence. “The lyrics brilliant. The arrangements not so good. I’d like to
record—” My world starts to spin. I know it before he says it. “‘Parts.’”
    This day has gone off course yet again in a new
way I never imagined possible. How does he know that song is about him? I don’t
doubt that Alan has figured it out and that’s why he picked it.
    “I’m flattered by the offer, Alan, but I don’t
want you to record my song. I’m not sure I want my songs even to be recorded.”
    “I’m recording your song.” He meets my eyes
directly. There is something in those penetrating black orbs that makes me
tense. “I don’t need your permission, Chrissie.”
    I frown at him. “What is that supposed to mean?”
    “We have a contract. It still has four years left
on it. First right of refusal for all material you copyright. Recording
exclusivity. You signed an all-inclusive contract with me.”
    My entire face burns from the too quickly
returning memory. Us in bed in New York. Naked and in love. The papers he gave
me that I signed without reading and tossed in his face.
    “You told me that was a