It was after service that Wednesday, when Erik had convinced her to allow him to take her to lunch that she told him she had an audition.
"That's wonderful, Christine," he said, reaching over the table and cradling her hand in his. "Are you nervous?"
"No," she lied.
And though he knew it was a lie he smiled anyway. "Good, you have no reason to be."
"Do you, I mean, do you really think I can do it?" She murmured. "You were the only reason I was Prima Donna, even if it was brief."
"Nonsense," he said, the corner of his mouth lifting in a smile. "Do you remember your first opera as Prima Donna?" She nodded gently. "You won that position yourself Christine. The only thing I did was give Carlotta a reason to leave - if you hadn't sang so beautifully for them you wouldn't have had the position. If anything my association with you was more detrimental to your position than helpful - I still believe that if I hadn't interfered you would have won the position permanently. The only reason you were pushed out was to rebel against me."
"Do you really think so?" She asked.
"I know so," he said, giving her hand a squeeze. "I do not - I do not want you to be devastated if you are only taken as a chorus member Christine. You know yourself that is where most start - you are capable of more but they will expect you to prove it and I - I can't be there to force it this time."
She bit her lip and nodded. "I know," she said. "And I promise I won't be too devastated," she answered, smiling softly. "I only miss performing - if I am in the chorus for a while I'll be content with that. It may be best anyway, safer."
"You do not worry about our safety," he said. "That is for me to worry about and you will not allow yourself to stay in the chorus and waste your talents. Do you understand me?"
And slowly she nodded. "I do," she murmured. "But I don't want to perform under my real name, I just - I don't want to draw undue attention to us Erik."
"Nilsson," he said. "It is Swedish, it will not be unbelievable. Christina Nilsson. You studied at the conservatoire just as every other hopeful opera singer has."
She nodded at that.
"You are more than capable Christine. And if you allow yourself to you will have a wonderful career."
The next day while she was away at her audition he found himself shopping. One red rose - his signature gift. He had considered a bouquet but something about it was off-putting. He settled on a single red rose and a bottle of sweet wine.
They didn't often partake of alcohol, usually keeping it to a very occasional treat and going months without a sip of it. But this was a special occasion, he reasoned, and a single glass of wine would do no harm.
He had avoided wine for a long while, finding that it only trudged forth the memory of the single time Christine had run from him. It had been a painful memory, but he looked back on it almost fondly now seeing how far they had come. He no longer feared her running - not because of her dependence on him, not because she had nowhere else to go, not because he had control of her. Simply because she loved him - he was confident in the fact that he no longer had to worry himself over her leaving. She was his wife and she loved him, just as he loved her.
And so he chose a sweet wine that he thought would be most to her taste.
He poured two glasses, leaving them on the dining table as he waited for her.
And when she returned home she was nervously twisting her hands together.
"How did it go, Christine?" He asked carefully.
"I warbled on the high c again," she murmured. "I tripped over the run. It - it didn't go as well as it should have." Here she paused, smiling softly at him. "But I have a position in the chorus anyway."
He pulled her against him, kissing her lips gently. "That is wonderful news Christine," he said. "And do not be discouraged by one difficult audition - there will be more auditions. You know that."
"I know," she said, wrapping her arms around his neck.
"How do you feel?"
"Excited," she said with a laugh. "I know it is only the chorus, but I am excited to - to go back to the stage."
"Come here," he said, tugging her into their cozy kitchen. "Allow your husband to spoil you - we have much to celebrate."
He handed her a wine glass and she clutched it tightly in both hands.
He raised his own glass, tapping the rim of it against hers. "To a real life," he said softly. "To my job and my beautiful, lovely, talented wife and the beginning of her great career."
She smiled at him sweetly, bringing the glass to her lips and taking a long, grateful sip. "And to my husband," she added, cradling the glass between the fingers of one hand, laying her free hand on the back of his neck. "Without whom I would be lost."
His lips caught hers in a kiss before he could stop himself, demanding and needy. "And I would be lost without you, my silly wife," he murmured to her.
She pulled away from him, taking another long drink of the wine before setting the nearly empty glass back on the table, running the back of her hand over her mouth and letting her second hand join her first, pulling his mouth back to hers roughly.
For all of the change he had seen in her over the months it was still rare to find his wife so pushy. And while she had a wanton nature she very rarely initiated such things, instead content to allow him to take the lead.
But tonight was entirely different.
He pressed against her, setting his own glass on the table before allowing his hand to travel up her back and into her hair.
He grasped her hair and tugged it, not hard enough to hurt her, just hard enough that she gasped in surprise as her lips left his.
"I don't think you fully understand what you do to me, Christine," he said gruffly.
"I think I do," she said with a teasing smile.
They didn't make it to the bedroom that night for the first time in a long time. Instead he took her right there in the kitchen, her chest pressed against the wall and her skirts bunched around her waist as he held her wrists tightly, pressing them against the wall.
In the past he may have found himself embarrassed by his lack of control, liking to think that despite his upbringing and a lack of affection for most of his life that he was a civilized man.
But on these nights he couldn't bring himself to care - not when his wife, who had a somewhat normal upbringing, showed the same wild abandon and animalistic desire. She wouldn't hold it against him, and he would most certainly never discourage her affections.
And when they were done, his body still pressed against hers as they panted, attempting to regain some sense of composure, she sighed.
"I love you, Erik," she breathed.
"And I love you," he said, pressing his lips tenderly to the crook of her neck.
"Thank you," she whispered.
"For what?" He asked in surprise.
"Everything," she replied softly. "For encouraging me, for supporting me. For stealing me away, for giving me another chance - in life and with you. Thank you."
"Christine," he breathed, only able to pull her closer against him.
A/N: two in one day? I must be nuts!
I know I've been rapid-firing this story, and I'm sad to say that we are drawing near to our ending. I intend to push through as I have been the last few days and our ending should fall somewhere near mid-week next week. I promise that everything will be tied up and there will be no loose-ends. Despite the nature of the story it will be a satisfying ending. When this one is over I will be focusing on finishing up The Scorpion.
And for those of you who are Leroux geeks like me, I recommend that you google Christina Nilsson. She was, indeed, a real person and it's a very interesting read.
