"Have you missed me, good Monsieur?" Erik purred into the phone.
"Charles Carrière, you son of a bitch," the man said on the phone. "I thought you were dead. Where the hell have you been?"
Erik chuckled, his voice deep, and Christine had to suppress a shiver.
"I thought I was out of the music business," Erik replied. "But something has changed my mind."
He glanced sidelong at Christine, and she blushed.
"Now, Gerard, I would like to introduce you to my darling Christine Daaé-" he turned the phone to Christine expectantly.
"H-hello," she said nervously.
"She's a singer with a great deal of promise and talent, and I want her to have-" he leaned towards her, "Christine, how many many albums do you wish to do?"
She blinked.
"I don't know."
"I want her to have as many albums as her little heart desires, do you understand me?" he commanded into the phone again.
"A new singer? When do you want her to start recording?"
"Ahh, hm. She will get in touch with you when she's ready to record. Here, listen to this-"
Her eyes widened as the phone was held up to her face.
"Sing," Erik instructed her.
Her face turned red, and she hesitated.
"Sing Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again," he prompted, mentioning a song Aminta sang in Don Juan Triumphant.
She took a deep breath and began to sing, and after a minute he pulled the phone back.
"Well?" he said smugly. "What do you think?"
Gerard was silent a long moment.
"She's beautiful," he said at last.
"She hasn't even had a chance to warm up, this is nothing compared to her real voice."
Christine was embarrassed, both at the man's compliments and Erik's insistence that she was even better.
"Now," Erik continued. "In a few months she's going to be contacting you, and you're going to do every last thing she asks of you. You will work tirelessly to bring her dreams to reality, do you hear me?"
"Alright, alright, I heard you the first time. She's got the deal. Fifty albums or whatever."
"Excellent, my good man. We will be in touch."
Erik hung up the phone.
"My dear," he turned to her. "You said once you were going to write a thesis on my albums, tell me - do you remember Gerard?"
Her brow furrowed, then she gasped.
"Oh, that was your producer! At the record label!"
"And now he's your producer, too," he smiled, and she clapped her hands over her mouth. "When you're ready, after everything is... settled, you simply give him a call and he will take care of all the arrangements, and you will become a star. As simple as that."
"Oh Erik - I can scarcely believe it! Thank you!"
They talked a little more before Erik reminded her that it was nearly time for her quiet time, and she was about to go to her room when she suddenly turned and hugged him before she could think too much about it.
He wasted no time in hugging her back, embracing her as though he never wanted to let her go. But let her go he did, as soon as she began pull back.
"Thank you, Erik," she whispered, looking up at him. "I don't know where I'd be without you."
He carefully raised a hand to cradle her cheek in the gentlest of touches, lasting only a second.
"You'd be in Rouen, at the hospital," he said, smiling wryly.
She laughed and shook her head.
"Goodnight," she told him as she headed towards her room, giving him one last smile.
"Goodnight, my dear."
She picked up the phone in her room to call Raoul, but when he answered, she suddenly realized the piece of news she'd wanted to share was likely one he wouldn't like hearing.
"Hi Raoul," she said softly.
"Lotte," he replied warmly. "I miss you."
"Miss you too."
She wished she could tell him about the record deal, but she knew it was still a sore spot. He didn't want her to sing, but surely he would come around, eventually. Singing was so very dear to her, and it pained her to not be able to share that news with him. It felt like having to hide a piece of her soul.
She told him, instead, small anecdotes about things she'd seen, and little updates about what she was doing.
"We're going to the opera tomorrow," she told him.
He was oddly quiet for a moment.
"Do you wish I could take you to the opera?" he eventually asked.
"What?"
"All I've ever taken you to is the movies... I'd have taken you to the opera if you'd asked me. I can afford it, you know."
She chewed at her lip.
"He wants to go to the opera, Raoul. I love our movie dates, you know that."
"But I could take you to the opera, too."
She raised an eyebrow.
"I'm sure you could. I never said you couldn't."
"Where else is he taking you?"
Her jaw tightened. This wasn't a competition.
"The park. A museum. Both free, but he did buy me an ice cream, though I don't think you have to worry too much about that because you've bought me ice cream before, too."
He huffed.
"I've got to go, Lotte, I have to get to work early tomorrow."
"Okay. Bye."
She hung up the phone, feeling surprisingly hurt. It wasn't the first time she'd tried to share something with Raoul only for him to take it the wrong way, even before Erik had become involved, but never had it stung quite like it did now.
Luckily the next day she managed to forget all about Raoul, too absorbed in her opera date with Erik.
She took the time to pin her hair up into an elegant twist, a style she'd never worn before. She felt a little self conscious at first, wondering if it was too much, but when she saw how Erik's eyes focused on it immediately as she left her room, she knew she'd made the right choice.
"You look very lovely tonight, Christine," he said, his voice grave, as though he were discussing matters of the utmost importance.
Her cheeks turned pink.
"Thank you," she glanced away. "You look quite handsome, as well."
He scoffed, but didn't refute it past that.
But she thought it was the truth - his tuxedo had embroidery across the lapels, subtle yet stylish, and the black buttons on his waistcoat sparkled when the light caught them just right.
Her own evening gown was a deep blue, cut modestly in the front but deeply in the back, with a small pool of fabric at the bottom that nearly touched the floor. She clutched her little clamshell purse with her white gloved hands as she glanced in the mirror one last time before they departed. They made a very good looking couple, she thought.
Erik was, as always, an exquisite gentleman, taking care that she made it up the stairs without stepping on her own dress, and offering her his arm. After the show was over, he took her out for a late dinner where they laughed and talked about the performance they'd just seen.
She squeezed her hands on his arm as he walked them to the taxi he'd called, leaning against him just slightly and looking up at the stars. They'd had white wine with their food, and though Erik had only had one glass, she'd ended up having two. The world felt fuzzy and warm. They were both quiet as they were driven back to the hotel, though she left her hands idly on his arm and he allowed it.
"Tonight was wonderful, Erik," she said as they entered their room. "I loved it."
"I'm glad," he smiled, putting an arm out as she swayed just slightly. "But I think you had a little too much to drink tonight."
She wrinkled her nose.
"No!" she sat heavily on the couch with a huff. "It's these shoes, I'm not used to wearing heels like this."
He chuckle deeply as he watched her kick her heels off, his eyes lingering on her bare feet.
"You're not used to drinking in heels, you mean."
"I'm not drunk! Erik, I'm hardly even tipsy!"
"Go sleep it off, my dear," he teased. "We only have four days left in Rome."
He departed for his bedroom, and she headed for hers. Once there, she nearly picked up the phone to call Raoul, but thought the better of it. She felt good right now, and didn't want anything to change that. The opera had been lovely, dinner had been lovely, Erik was lovely - the night had been complete. She unpinned her hair and washed the makeup from her face and went to sleep with a smile.
When she awoke, it didn't escape her notice that she'd forgotten to close her door. It also didn't escape her notice that Erik very clearly hadn't been in her room. She rubbed at her face as she realized those two glasses of wine might have been stronger than she'd originally thought. Still, her blankets were just as she'd piled them around herself the previous night, and nothing seemed out of place. She blinked a few times, wondering. Erik hadn't even tried. She couldn't help but wonder how the night would have gone with Raoul, if she'd had his ring on her finger and been mildly intoxicated and slightly unsteady. She thought she knew him well enough to trust that he'd never force her into anything, but he certainly would have asked, especially if they were married. She wasn't used to being around a man like Erik. He defied her expectations at nearly every turn.
She closed her door and dressed, finding him in the shared room once she entered it.
"Good morning, dear," he greeted her. "I'm sorry last night ate into your quiet time. I didn't intend for it to do so."
She smiled kindly at him.
"It's okay. I didn't mind."
Their day of outings was cut short by a surprised thunderstorm in the afternoon. Back in the hotel, she had insisted that he not wear his mask, concerned about how long he had been wearing it recently.
She smiled at him as he cautiously took it off, then smiled more as a blush crept across his sunken cheeks.
She ended up reading a book on the couch after a little while, after Erik had left for his own room, seemingly too overwhelmed by how she was able to look at his unmasked face and still carry on a conversation.
But he seemed unable to keep away from her, even still. He walked through the shared room occasionally, not quite looking at her or speaking to her, quickly retreating to his own room when she glanced up at him. At last he came and stood in the doorway from his room, and she could tell from the way he was nearly moping and staring at her that he wanted something. She closed her book.
"What is it?" she asked, her voice gentle.
He looked surprised to be noticed, and then slightly guilty. He was remarkably bad at hiding his expressions, probably from a lifetime of never having to.
"I was wondering... Since you're a nurse... If you could- if you could do like a- a check up on me," he mumbled, not meeting her eye.
She stared at him a moment.
"Yes," she said. "I could. Did something happen?"
"What do you mean?"
"Did something happen to make you feel you need a checkup?"
"Oh! Oh... Yes... I had, uh," his brow knit. "Uhh, a heart palpitation."
"Oh, well - come sit here. I'll be right back."
He eagerly sat down, crossing his legs and folding his hands together over his knee. She returned in a moment with her medical bag and settled on the couch next to him.
"Hold your arm out," she instructed, and put a blood pressure cuff around it.
It was a little high, but that was to be expected. She got out her stethoscope and put it in her ears.
"Unbutton the first two buttons, please," she nodded towards his shirt, and his hands jumped up to comply with her request, his fingers shaking slightly.
She tried to warm the metal chest-piece between her hands before placing it on his skin, but he still flinched when she pressed against him.
"Your heart's so fast," she murmured. "Are you nervous?"
Her eyes flicked up to meet his wide-eyed gaze.
"No," he breathed, but she could tell otherwise.
She moved the stethoscope to a different place on his chest, still maintaining eye contact. She pressed it against his chest, letting her hand brush softly across his skin. He sucked in a breath and looked away, and suddenly Christine realized.
This wasn't about having her check up on his health. This was about him wanting her to touch him.
A thousand thoughts rushed through her mind in the span of a second.
It felt oddly inappropriate, at first. And then suddenly - it didn't. He'd probably gone a lifetime with very little human contact. He just wanted his wife to touch him, but he was too shy or embarrassed to ask, so this was the only way he knew how. They were married, but even if they weren't, there was nothing lewd about how she was touching him, even if he was thinking of it in other terms.
Her surprise faded, and in its wake, there was only a tender sense of compassion.
"Turn around," she said, her voice soft. "I need to listen to your lungs."
Her hand slipped up underneath of the thin linen of his shirt, just to one side of his spine. His shoulders stiffened and he flinched away from her touch before holding himself incredibly still. He hadn't been expecting her to listen from underneath the shirt.
"Erik, I can't hear your lungs if you're not breathing," she chided gently, her lips pulling into a wry smirk.
"Oh," he exhaled, but held his breath again.
She reached her other hand out and placed it on his shoulder, squeezing just a little.
"Breathe normally," she reminded him.
He attempted to do so, and she heard the familiar hint of a rattle that he was expecting to be there, but it wasn't any worse than it had been in France.
She lingered on each side of his back just slightly longer than was necessary, finally removing her hand and turning him back to face her again.
"Everything sounds okay," she murmured, bringing her hand up to touch his face, first cupping his cheek and then pressing the back of her hand to his forehead. "You don't have a fever."
He dropped his gaze, unable to continue looking at her, leaning his face into her touch despite desperately trying not to.
"Did it only happen once?" she asked, letting her hand come to rest on his shoulder.
"Did what happen?" he glanced up, brow creased.
"Your heart palpitation," she smiled.
"Oh!" he cleared his throat. "Ah, yes. Just once. Like a skipped beat."
"Hm. Well, I don't hear anything out of the ordinary. I think you'll be okay. Will you tell me if it happens again?"
"If what happens agai- oh," he looked embarrassed. "Yes, I'll tell you."
"Do you need anything else?" she asked, studying his face closely. "Do you want anything else?"
He stared into her eyes a moment and she thought he truly was going to ask. But he shook his head a little.
"No," he whispered. "Just this."
She let her hand slide off of his shoulder.
"Okay," she said.
"Thank you," he said sincerely as he quickly stood from the couch, buttoning up his shirt again as he headed out of the room.
Even with his presence removed, the room still crackled with an odd sort of electricity. She'd been touching him because he had wanted it, but she was surprised to find that towards the end, she had almost enjoyed it herself.
She chided herself. She'd enjoyed knowing that he had enjoyed it, that was all. She was a medical professional. She didn't gain feelings from touching her patients.
Unable to focus on anything else for the night, she went to her own room, but still couldn't escape the odd tension. What was this feeling?
She dressed for bed and curled up under the covers, pulling the phone over to her and dialing Raoul's number.
"Raoul," she sighed into the receiver when he answered.
"Hey Lotte. What's up?"
"Raoul..." she squirmed a little, trying to find a more comfortable position. "Tell me what you would do if I was there with you right now..."
"Aw geeze, Lotte, I don't know," he sounded confused by her request. "I mean, I'm watching a movie on tv right now, so I guess I'd share some of my popcorn with you?"
She rubbed at the bridge of her nose, frowning.
"Oh," was all she said.
She asked what the movie was, and if he was enjoying it, and then she bid him goodnight, weirdly annoyed. That feeling she'd had after being with Erik was gone, utterly destroyed by Raoul's complete obliviousness.
She couldn't blame him, she supposed. She could probably count on one hand the number of times she'd instigated anything with him over the course of their engagement, preferring to leave all that to him, preferring to be a passive participant.
She closed her eyes and sighed. What had she wanted him to do to her? She wasn't even sure, but it certainly had nothing to do with popcorn. She was no stranger to concept of what a couple could do together, but she felt a longing that was so unfamiliar to her deep in her bones, and she wasn't sure what it signified.
She wanted his arms around her, she knew that. She wanted him to touch her gently, lightly, like she'd touched Erik. Maybe he would kiss her neck, just once or twice. That might feel good. She'd never been one to fantasize about much else than a nice home that she didn't owe money on or a beautiful dress or good dinner, but this scenario in her mind now was... pleasant.
Her eyes flew open when she realized the man in her dreams who had been holding her so tenderly was not Raoul. She swallowed hard. It didn't mean anything, surely - of course she was thinking of Erik right now, she'd just shared that very strange experience with him. That didn't mean much. She was in love with Raoul, he was the one she should be fantasizing about.
Yet every time she tried to think of him, all she could picture was him stuffing his face with popcorn and giving her a confused look.
She sat up in bed, chewing on her lip. Should she go get Erik? Would it feel nice to be held by him? Would that feeling come back if he touched her?
She flopped back down with a deep sigh. She was being ridiculous. Erik had wanted her to check his heart and she had. No further action was needed from any of them. If he had wanted more, he could have asked for it. But he didn't.
She tried to push the incident from her mind and eventually she fell asleep.
She didn't call Raoul the next day, or the next or the day after that. Soon she was busy packing for the next trip, and simply didn't have time to contact him. After the strange incident, things had gone back to normal between her and Erik, and it moved to the very back of her mind. She had other things to focus on.
On the plane ride, Erik didn't mention her fear of heights, but he nonchalantly left his hand open on her armrest before the flight took off. She furrowed her brow, not wanting to burden him with her fears.
It wasn't fair. He was the one with real problems. He shouldn't have to coddle her and comfort her - she should be the one looking out for him. She swallowed hard and took his hand anyway, grateful for the gentle pressure and the sweep of his thumb.
After the plane leveled out and his humming faded away, he began to chatter away, perhaps hoping to distract her.
"I'm rather excited about this next part," he told her.
"Oh?"
"I've never been to Greece, but I've always wanted to go. Past Rome, we'll be going to all new places for me. Are you excited too?"
"Yes," she agreed.
He squeezed her hand a little and smiled at her.
"I'm excited to see them with you," he said warmly, and her cheeks turned pink.
Once they were in Greece, she ended up not even thinking about Raoul for nearly three days. The realization of how much time had passed made her feel guilty, but Erik really did dominate her time and attention most of the day. Time had simply gotten away from her, finding his company more pleasurable than having to face her jilted fiancé over the phone. She waited a full day after realizing how long it had been since they'd talked before finally gathering the courage to call.
She finally sat down on the edge of her bed, steadying her nerves. Through the open door that connected their two rooms, she could hear Erik puttering about in his own room as she dialed.
She twisted the phone cord around her finger as she listened to it ring.
"Hello?"
Raoul's voice filtered through the phone and her heart skipped a beat. How she'd missed his voice! She hadn't even realized until just now. Did he miss her too?
"Hi," she said simply. "It's me."
"Christine!"
"I missed you!"
"Did he kick the bucket yet?"
"Raoul! Don't say it like that!" she cringed.
"Well did he?"
"No."
"Oh. I thought maybe that was why you hadn't called, because you were busy with funeral arrangements," he sounded disappointed.
"No," she hung her head a little. "We've just been... busy."
"Oh," his tone turned sour. "Has he bedded you yet?"
Her face flushed and she dropped the phone cord. Was that all he cared about?
"That's not what I called to talk about!"
She felt the sharp prickle of tears in the corner of her eyes.
"You haven't even asked me how I am," she added in a small voice.
There was silence on the other end for a moment. She cleared her throat.
"We're in Greece," she tried. "It's so beautiful here, Raoul, I wish you could see it. I never knew the sea could look so blue!"
"It sounds wonderful," he said, and he sounded almost normal.
"Oh, it is! Maybe- maybe you and I can come back here, one day. I'd love to experience it with you. And the seafood - it's so good! You know it's never been my favorite, but being here just might change that, honestly."
"Sounds swell. Say, you haven't answered my question."
Her lip trembled and she gripped the phone tighter.
"How is everything there?" she asked instead, trying hard to pretend that she hadn't heard him.
"Same old, same old," she could almost hear the shrug in his voice. "It's not exciting like Greece. I wouldn't want to bore you with it."
She swallowed hard.
"Listen, I've got to go. I'll- I'll write to you, okay? I'll send a postcard or something. It was great hearing you though."
It was anything but great. Or rather, it should have been great, and yet she was only left feeling uncomfortable and gross, as though she'd done something dirty and wrong.
She hadn't so much as kissed Erik, yet she couldn't bring herself to tell that to Raoul. He should love her regardless, and it annoyed her to have to assuage his fears constantly even when he acted as though he didn't believe her.
"Okay," he agreed.
"I love you, Raoul," she said.
"Okay. Talk to you later, Lotte."
She hung the phone up quietly and stared at the wall for a long moment.
She thought about his reply, and his questions, and about the Christmas party he'd gone to three years ago, the one hosted by the company he worked for, the one were he'd gotten somewhat drunk and kissed Gloria, a woman who worked on the same floor as him, and about how he'd tearfully admitted it to her several days afterwards, pleading and begging and still expecting her to love him all the same. And she had, she had still loved him back then and even now, even after everything, she loved him. And yet-
Has he bedded you?
What if he had? Would that change how he felt about her? Would he not want her anymore, if that was the case? Was she ridiculous to think that he was being ridiculous about it? She had believed him when he'd told her nothing more had happened between him and Gloria, and she felt it only fair that she be returned the same amount of trust.
Maybe that was the problem. Maybe she shouldn't have believed him so readily.
Erik cautiously entered the room, glancing over at her.
"Was, ah, was that your boy on the phone?" he asked with careful nonchalance.
She smiled in spite of herself. Erik was always so strange about Raoul, never really knowing how to act on the rare occasion when he was brought up. Even now he was fretting over making a show of attempting to tidy up the already tidy room so it wouldn't look as though he'd barged in to demand answers from her.
"It was," she agreed.
"What did he have to say for himself?" he muttered, glaring at a vase and turning it this way and that.
"Not a lot," she shrugged a little and got off the bed, approaching him.
She came and stood behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist and leaning against his back. His breath hitched as she rested her cheek to his spine.
"I don't think I'm going to call him again," she murmured.
"Why not?" he asked, breathless.
"He seemed cross with me," she admitted. "Disappointed in me, maybe."
She didn't want to tell him the reason Raoul was cross with her. She was afraid he would laugh. She was afraid he'd suggest she go ahead and do it, if he was going to accuse her over it anyway.
She was afraid she might accept. That would be the worst scenario, to accept out of spite. If she didn't like it, if it felt too awkward, poor Erik would have to live with the knowledge that she hadn't enjoyed it, that it had been something they'd only do once. Surely he wouldn't want her that way just so she could get petty revenge on her ex-fiancé, especially if she hadn't liked doing it at all.
"It can't be easy for him to be away from you for so long," Erik said gently, placing a hand over hers and running his thumb over her knuckles. "He probably just misses you. Don't be too hard on him."
She sighed, closing her eyes.
"Where do you want to eat dinner?" she asked eventually.
"I was thinking that little place on the dock?" he said hopefully. "From out there we could see the lights all up and down the shore."
"Okay."
They really could see the lights all up and down the shore, the little boats bobbing in the crystal blue water, the strings of lights along the storefronts, the illuminated windows of the dwellings all the way up the side of the cliff. They marveled over it as they feasted on shrimp and fava beans and rice and washed it down with sparkling white wine. Somewhere on the dock, a fiddler played and though the tune that drifted down to their table was one Christine had never heard before, her heart ached at the familiarity of it, at how it reminded her of her Papa.
It looked just like a postcard that night, she thought. It looked almost like the postcard she bought the next day for Raoul, the postcard that she turned around and stared at the blank spot on the back for a long time. At last she wrote thinking of you, and then chewed on her pen before adding fondly!, even if her thoughts towards him weren't exactly fond at the moment, because just thinking of you didn't sound like enough.
She clutched it in one hand as they walked in the sunlight the following morning, planning to drop it off at the little post office. During the walk, Erik surprised her by reaching out to brush his fingers across her other hand. She glanced up, not expecting the touch, and Erik looked at her meaningfully. She realized what he wanted but was too shy to ask for lest she turn him down, too afraid to reach out and take lest she wrench her hand away from his.
She smiled at him and took his hand in hers, squeezing it.
They walked hand in hand for the rest of their trip.
The postcard dropped off in the mailbox and swiftly forgotten, they spent the rest of the afternoon idly walking around town. They took their time, pretending that they were simply soaking in the local flavor instead of having to go slow for Erik's sake, so that he wouldn't get winded or overexert himself.
There was a little boat offering tours of the coast, and they both thought it looked interesting enough to try. They stood on the deck of the boat along with a dozen or so other tourists, excited to start their expedition.
It was off to a good - but bumpy - start. The scenery was beautiful but she hadn't expected to waves to be so rough. Every so often the boat would lurch this way or that unexpectedly.
She managed to keep her footing, but her purse was not so lucky. It ended up on the ground, it's contents spilling out of it, and her face flushed with shame and embarrassment.
Erik, ever the gentleman, sprang forward to gather the scattered items before she could stop him.
Her wallet, a tube of lipstick, a handkerchief, her sunglasses, and a certain compact were all quickly gathered up and deposited back into her purse by him. He gave the sunglasses a quick look to make certain they were okay, then ran his thumb over the top of the compact. Christine stared hard at it in his hand, willing him to drop it in the purse.
"Is your mirror okay?" he fretted and pushed the little button to open it. "If it broke, that's seven years of-"
He stopped short as soon as it opened, surprised.
It wasn't a mirror.
It felt to Christine that that moment stretched an eternity, as he stood there and furrowed his brow at the ring of pills inside the compact. She was certain her face was beet red now.
He looked at her, puzzled. She met his eye and then looked away, her lips set in a firm line, and he seemingly realized that he had stumbled across something extremely personal.
He looked back at the pills and closed the compact, swallowing hard. He slid it into the purse and held it out to her.
"I'm sorry," he said, but he still sounded confused. "I thought it was a mirror."
She took the purse from him, too mortified to thank him.
Neither one said anything, but he glanced at her curiously after a long moment, his eyes looking her up and down. He still looked puzzled, and he seemed deep in thought, as though he were trying to add two and two together.
She was dreading the conversation that would surely come up. Did he know what they were for? Would he wonder at why she had them? Would he assume she'd started them when she was engaged to Raoul? Or would he think they were because of him?
If he thought the latter, it had implications either way one looked at it - and she hated both of them. Would he think she secretly wanted to consummate their marriage? Or would he think that she was afraid he'd force himself on her? Regardless of how close to the truth the last implication was, she'd never want to admit that to him. Her husband accidentally finding out she was secretly on the pill was humiliating enough for both of them, let alone if he realized she was secretly on the pill because she thought he was going to rape her.
She looked out across the water, miserable. She wasn't afraid of that, not anymore, not from him, but the fact remained that she'd continued taking the pills even still. She wouldn't know how to explain it even if he asked. It was confusing even to her.
He said nothing about it during the rest of the boat trip, but seemed a little dazed by the discovery, as though he were in shock. With a sinking heart she began to realize that he might have actually recognized what the pills were for. She didn't know how she could recover from that kind of embarrassment.
Still, he tried to treat her just the same as always, pointing out areas of interest along the shore and making small talk - stilted though it was, at the moment.
Things felt almost back to normal between them by the time the boat docked and they went to find an early dinner somewhere.
It wasn't until halfway through dinner that the subject seemed in danger of being brought up. They had managed to get through everything normally, and she'd almost thought the danger behind her as they'd ate and talked about the dolmas and saganaki and spanakopita.
"Christine," he started. "About what was in your purse-"
She held her breath, looking up at him with wide eyes and slightly parted lips. Was he really going to ask her? Maybe she could get away with saying it was headache medicine. Surely he didn't have knowledge of contraceptives!
He faltered when he saw the look of fear and mortification on her face.
"I just thought it was funny," he said, looking down at his plate. "You carry a tube of lipstick around with you, but I've never seen you wear lipstick even once in the entire time that I've known you."
She breathed a sigh of relief as her her eyes closed. She was certain that wasn't what he'd set out to say, but seemingly even he was too embarrassed to mention it.
"I'm saving it," she told him, opening her eyes and beginning to poke her fork at her food.
"For what?"
"A special day."
He was quiet a moment.
"You have to be careful with saving things for a special day," he finally said. "Sometimes you find there aren't any days left, and you've missed all the special ones while you were waiting for something more."
She kept his words in the back of her mind as they finished their food and went outside to watch the lingering remains of the sunset on the water. The little town behind them was coming to life with light again, and they strolled on down the winding path for a little while.
"Christine, look," Erik nodded towards a street vendor who was selling some kind of food.
Upon closer inspection it appeared to some sort of fried octopus and clams in a bowl with rice.
"Do you want one?" he asked her.
She gave the food stand a wary look, watching how short an amount of time the clams were being cooked before being put in a bowl to eat.
"I'll pass," she said evenly.
"I'm getting one. Are you sure?"
"Are you really?" she hesitated.
"Of course!"
She wrinkled her nose.
"No thank you."
She watched with disapproval as he purchased one and began eating it as they walked along, and she turned down his offer of a bite of it.
They lingered outside another hour or so, breathing in the sea air and basking in the moonlight. At Erik's request they snuck down to the shoreline, rolling their pant legs up and taking their shoes off to let the surf roll up over their feet and ankles.
They held each other's hand to steady themselves as the water crashed up against them, and she had to stifle her squeals at how cold it was. She squeezed his hand as the wave rolled in again, and he laughed as she couldn't hold her shriek back any longer, hopping from one foot to the other. His eyes sparkled in the moonlight as he looked at her, grinning. This would be a moment she'd remember for a long time, she thought.
They were both quiet but smiling as they made their way back to the hotel, still holding hands. They parted at their doors with kind and tender words of goodnight.
Once in her room she wasted no time in showering and changing into her nightgown, placing her dressing gown over it. She curled into bed with her book, a smile still resting on her face, memories of the evening they'd spent still in her mind.
Her comfortable peace was interrupted by a fervent knock on their shared door. She jumped a little at the unexpected sound, and went to answer it.
When she opened the door, Erik was standing there, looking especially nervous and rather sweaty.
"Christine," he said urgently. "I don't feel well."