When Christine rang Erik's doorbell, he was in the kitchen working diligently on the creme brûlée he planned to serve for dessert.

He answered the door absent of his suit jacket, sleeves rolled up right below his elbows, and blue-and-white striped apron tied around his waist. Christine was just as prepared: leggings and thin-strapped top still on from her rehearsal. She carried a workout bag with her. Erik took her coat as was routine.

"May I go change in one of your bathrooms?" She asked, picking her bag back up.

He hung her coat nearby. "Sure. Follow me." He led her down the hall towards the kitchen, stopping short of its entrance and pushed open a door to the left, flicking on a light for her.

"Thanks," she said, offering him a smile of gratitude before entering and closing the door behind her. She pushed the lid of the toilet seat down, setting her bag on top.

Erik continued with the creme brûlée and checked on the roasted chicken. By the time Christine exited the bathroom, Erik was adding finishing touches to their dishes, placing a small garnish on top of her chicken.

He looked up, watching as she headed towards the table. Her long, brown curls cascaded down below her collarbones, out of its small ballerina bun. She now wore a satin blue dress that fell just above her knees and left her small, lean arms open for viewing. She looked down at his work and back up to him with a smile that warmed his heart as much as it made it falter.

"This looks wonderful, Erik."

Her eyes sparkled as they looked into his. If he wasn't as strong, he might've dropped to his knees there, proclaimed his love for her and left behind all his misery. But he could not let himself go so easily. No, he had to maintain himself.

He cleared his throat, looking back at his own work. "Roasted chicken with a balsamic vinaigrette and a side of vegetables." She smiled at the pride he took in his work. "And," he said, holding up his finger while walking to the counter, "creme brûlée for desert." He picked up two small ceramic dishes and headed back to her, setting one in front of each of their plates.

"Would you like wine?" he asked.

"Sure," she replied.

He pulled his best bottle along with two glasses and poured them one each. Christine sat as he set their glasses on the table and removed his apron, hanging it back up. He sat adjacent to her as he had before.

"So," Erik said, starting at his plate, "how was rehearsal?"

Christine cut into her chicken. "It was good. We've got a recital coming up soon. I've been meaning to tell you. I can't do our practice session next Sunday."

"Where's your recital?"

"In Cergy."

"That's a bit of a drive. What time?"

"5 P.M." He grunted, squinting at his food. "Are you thinking of coming?" Christine asked.

He shrugged. "I'll try. No promises."

She smiled, feeling her chest warm with the potential of his presence in the audience at her recital.

"If you don't mind me asking, where did you learn to sing?" he asked.

"My father."

He cautioned himself in his questioning now, wanting to tread lightly on the topic. "Did he sing as well?"

"No," she laughed slightly. "He wasn't all that talented in that area, but he always said I had my mother's voice and that's why I could sing."

He smiled and then the edge of his lips settled back down. "Where is she?"

Christine's expression darkened. "She's passed."

"I'm sorry, Christine."

She shook her head. "It's fine. She died when I was too young to really get to know her."

Erik decided it was best to stop speaking and thought of how to change the subject.

"You know," Christine laughed with a small added sniffle, "before my father passed he told me that he'd send an angel of music to watch over me." She looked down at her nearly empty plate and smiled. "I can't help but think he has."

A gentle smile splayed across Erik's face. "He's watched over you as well."

She looked up to him with wet cheeks. "I like to think so." Her smile faltered and she turned away, covering her face from his viewing.

Erik stood to retrieve a tissue from a nearby box and knelt beside her so that she could see him, holding the tissue up for her to take. She plucked it from his hands without looking him in the eye.

"Thanks," she sniffled.

He stood, pulling his chair next to hers, and sat back down. Hesitantly, he reached up to pull her head against his chest. Fingers tangled into her hair and slightly kneaded at the side of her head to soothe her. She let go and gave in, allowing fresh tears to pour down her cheeks. Erik held her tighter as small whimpers escaped her throat until she collected herself and wiped her tears away. Erik pressed his lips to the crown of her head.

"It will be alright," he crooned, "You will be alright."


They skipped dessert. Erik put the creme brûlée away in the fridge and sent Christine to his small theater's library to select what movie they should watch. Erik stayed in the kitchen to clean up before he joined her in the theater.

"How to Steal a Million?" Christine asked, holding up a classic film starring Audrey Hepburn playing a girl named Nicole and Peter O'Toole as Simon. The disc's case was still in its wrapper.

"Sure," Erik replied. He took the DVD from her, unwrapping it and setting the plastic to the side. He popped it into his DVD player, warming it up with the press of a button.

Christine sat on the couch in the center, pulling a soft blanket from the back of the couch onto her shoulders. She slid her shoes off and folded her legs beneath her.

Erik joined her after hitting the start button, maintaining a respectful distance.

"May I have more wine?" she asked.

Erik looked at her, unsure of whether or not giving her more alcohol was appropriate. He couldn't deny those sad, brown eyes.

He left for the kitchen and returned with a fresh glass, pouring more wine for her.

"Thank you," she said, taking the glass.

Erik set the bottle aside as they watched the movie. It was perfect for the both of them: all the aspects of romance which Christine sought and all the great characteristics of a classic movie for Erik.

They reached a scene in which Nicole and Simon were trapped in a museum closet together. Simon threw a boomerang to set off the alarm, running back into the closet with Nicole to hide as they waited for the guardsmen to turn off the system so that they could steal a piece of artwork.

"That's quite clever," Erik said. "This is why I love the classics. New movies always seem to lack a sort of...cleverness."

Christine rolled her eyes. "Have you been to a theater at all lately?"

"Maybe I'd say I have if there was ever anything good out."

"Come on," Christine nagged him. "Do you truly believe that everything in the theaters nowadays is not worth your viewing?"

"I'd say so."

She rolled her eyes once more. "Maybe if you'd just give it a try."

"Well, what would you recommend to me?" Erik asked, squinting in challenge.

She shrugged. "I'll find something that I might think you'd like and we can go together so I can watch your face as you enjoy the movie."

Erik's heart thumped. Yes, he would like that. He pursed his lips, his eyes squinting some more. "I doubt you'd see me enjoying it."

"Oh, I'll get you," she said, a child-like flirtation in her voice. Maybe she'd reached her limit of wine.

They returned their focus to the movie.

"Why'd you do it?" Nicole asked. Simon pressed his lips to hers heatedly in answer. Nicole smiled as he pulled away. "Expel it to me again."

Suddenly they'd both realized how close they were, Erik and Christine. It seemed she had slowly moved during the film, leaning towards him. She moved back to her original position and Erik set himself a little further down the couch to allow her more space.

The film ended and Erik looked over to see Christine drifting out and falling over. He reached out, catching her as she jumped back up briefly and closed her eyes once again.

Erik scooped her from the couch, peeling her from her blanket. She felt so small in his arms. So small and vulnerable. Christine was aware that he was taking her somewhere, but she was too tired to rouse herself. Despite his chilling touch, she was comfortable. He set her down in the room he had shown her when he gave her a tour of his home, placing her on top of the bed and peeling the covers back to cover her with them.

It was then that she managed to open her eyes, looking up to Erik as his voice calmed her. "It's fine," he whispered. "You're safe. Just sleep."

She relaxed against the pillows, looking at him through heavy eyelids. She swallowed to clear her throat. "Thank you." Her words almost slurred. Whether it was from the need to sleep or the wine or both, Erik was unsure. The fact she even managed to thank him warmed his heart nonetheless and he tucked her in, leaving the room with a small click of the door closing.