My Michelle.- Complete Story!

Chapter 9 - Admitting all.

Michelle and Paul settled into a routine of companionship and friendship. Paul maintained his distance but still showed his affection for her which Michelle began to blossom under. Then, one day, she received a letter from her solicitor confirming that her flat was now free for her to move back in to. She waited for him to return from the studio and told him the news over their evening meal together.

"When were you thinking of leaving?"

 "I need to check it over first, make sure everything is working. I wouldn't put it past Ian to do some kind of damage to it before he left! So...probably in about a week...if that's OK with you?"

Paul shrugged. "No problem."

They ate the rest of the meal in silence. Despite trying to engage him in conversation, Paul only gave her monosyllabic answers and all attempts died. Suddenly he pushed his plate away and stood up.  "I'm done." He turned to leave the room.

"Paul, what's wrong?" Michelle called after him. She looked at Rose who was clearing up at the other end of the kitchen. "Rose, what did I do? Why is he so mad?"

"You really don't know?"

"No – please Rose. Tell me!"

Rose shook her head slowly. "That man doesn't want you to leave Michelle. He's mad about you!"

"But...."

"I've worked for Paul for two years Michelle. He's had women throwing themselves at him. He's had the occasional, short term girl friend. He's never been with any woman like he is with you. He's in love for the first time in his life, with you Michelle. Can't you see it?"

"I knew he liked me, but love? No! We're friends – I've told him that. I've never made any promises to him in any other way! I need to go and talk to him."

As Michelle stepped into the hallway, she heard soft piano playing coming from a nearby room. She knocked and, without waiting for a response, she went in. He was sat at the piano, his back to her, playing a slow, haunting melody. Michelle quietly walked up to him, placed her hand on his shoulder and listened. The music stopped.

"That was beautiful," she whispered to him, "What was it?"

 Paul shrugged – then started playing again. This time a loud, angry piece, the ferocity of which took Michelle by surprise, filled the room. Suddenly it stopped. he swung himself around on the piano stool to face her. His eyes were blazing, his face sharing the mood of the music from moments before. Michelle, shocked, stepped back from him.

"I didn't mean to interrupt you," she said calmly, "you just left the table so suddenly I wanted to know if you were ok."

His eyes continued to burn into her.

"Paul?..."

Silence.

"Paul, please, you're scaring me now, talk to me. What have I done to make you so angry?"

He opened his mouth to speak – but stopped. He shook his head then turned away from her. His back to her, he started to play the same soft melody she had first heard on entering the room. Michelle felt tears pricking her eyes. This was so wrong. What had she done? She walked towards him and slid onto the piano stool next to him. Without breaking his playing, he moved up, as if to avoid her proximity. The music continued to fill the void between them. Michelle moved and gently placed her hand on top of his. The music died.

"Talk to me." she pleaded, "Don't shut me out!"

"I thought you liked being here?"

 "I do – why?"