Chapter 7

Christie woke up in her own bed. She could hear someone muttering angrily over in her small kitchen area. She was under the covers and someone had taken off her coat and shoes. She sat up and looked across the small room. Erik was standing in her tiny kitchen, looking in her cupboards. He turned around and saw her sitting up. He rushed over and pushed her down.

"I'm alright." She protested.

"How are you feeling? You should take it easy."

"Did I pass out? What happened?" she asked, confused.

"You fainted just outside, I hope you don't mind but I went through your purse to find your keys and put you to bed."

"Did…did you carry me?" she asked, blushing bright red. He looked down at her.

"Yes." His mouth was in a kind of half-smirk as if he was amused. He looked around. "Your apartment is frightfully small." He commented.

"I like it." She said defiantly. "Plus, it only feels small because you're so tall."

"Of course, how silly of me." He said and leaned down and kissed her forehead. She blushed again. The sun was beginning to come up and her apartment was filled with pale light.

"I guess I didn't eat much for lunch… maybe that's why I fainted…" she mused.

"If that stupid drunk hadn't frightened you then you would have been fine." Erik said angrily, his jaw clenching.

"It's alright now, you took care of me." Christie said, trying to calm him. She reached up to touch his face and he flinched away. She lowered her hand and looked away her mind flashing back to when she had taken off his glasses before.

"I'm sorry, just a reflex." He took her hand and she felt dizzy again. He noticed and stood up. "Let's see about getting you something to eat. You don't have much, but I think I can whip up something." Christie's stomach rumbled just then and they both laughed. She sat up and propped herself against the headboard as he walked back to the kitchen.

"I think I still have that pizza." She called over to him. He looked over at her with what she thought was disdain.

"I think we can do better than that." He said dryly, clearly not a fan of pre-made food. He began collecting ingredients from her fridge and cupboards and setting them on the counter.

"What are you going to make?" she asked, craning her neck to see. He chuckled.

"You'll just have to wait and see."

She sighed and reached for her laptop. She pulled up Pandora and put on her classical music station. She turned the volume down so that it was background noise, and then set it on her bedside table. She looked around her apartment, trying to see it as he did. There was the kitchen area with a half wall between it and the main room. The wall had a wide counter so she had bought stools and used it as a table. Next to it was the bathroom and closet doors. In the center of the room was her bed, with a dresser on one side, which and Gussie's bowl on it, and her side table on the other. Her TV was against the far wall and she also had a tiny recliner next to the window. She had lived here for a year and despite its size, she loved it.

She took a deep breath and the most wonderful smell filled her nose. "Mmm…" she said louder than she meant to. "That smells amazing! What is it?" she asked hungrily. He looked up from cooking and smiled.

"Pain Perdu, or as you probably know it, French toast."

"You're making me French toast?" she asked, touched.

"Yes, do you like French toast?" He asked. She nodded eagerly.

"Can I please come and sit over there?" She asked impatiently. He looked up again, and then came over to her bed. He pulled her blankets down and as she tried to swing her legs over the side of her bed to get up, he scooped her up into his arms, and took her to one of the stools and set her down gently. When he lifted her, her stomach went up to her throat and she felt butterflies.

"You're not walking anywhere until you've eaten something." He said firmly and went to the other side of the counter, completely unaware of the effect he'd just had on her. Christie twisted on the stool, put her elbows on the counter and rested her chin on her hands. She watched him cook for a few minutes then asked.

"Where did you learn to cook?" He kept his back turned to her as he answered.

"My grandmother… I spent a lot of time with her when I was young. She was an amazing cook. She was French and that's how I learned to speak it. We only spoke French in the kitchen."

"That must have been fun. My dad wasn't much of a cook and my mom died when I was really little, so I never really picked it up. As you discovered from my terrible cookies." She laughed, remembering his face as he took a bite. He joined her laughing.

"It's the thought that counts." He smiled. He looked like he belonged on a cooking show, with the ease and grace that he was showing as he cooked.

He got out two plates, put the French toast on them and put hers in front of her. He had put fresh cut strawberries and whipped cream on top. "I couldn't find any syrup, so I improvised." He explained as he sat down next to her. She took a bite, and they tasted great. She began to wolf them down hungrily. "Slow down!" he said and grabbed her hand that was holding her fork.

"Sorry, they just taste so good" she said sheepishly. She took another bite, slower this time. "Mmm… you're amazing." She said with her mouth half full. He sat watching her eat; she couldn't tell what he was thinking with his eyes covered. He finally started eating as well. Thinking back, Christie realized that she had never really had a home cooked meal before. Tears came to her eyes and she quickly brushed them away before he saw.

When they were done, she got up to do the dishes but he pushed her back down. "But you cooked!" she protested. He did them all by himself and then wiped down the counters for good measure. He walked over to her stool and she looked up at him, sleepy and full. She could feel her eyelids getting heavy and he could tell. He picked her up again and she took a deep breath of his smell, which now had a touch of French toast.

He laid her gently into her bed, pulled the covers up over her and smoothed her hair away from her face. "Sleep now." He whispered. He stood up to leave, but she caught his hand.

"Wait." She said sleepily. "Don't go." He looked down at her, frowning slightly, and then nodded slowly. Erik went to the windows and pulled the thick curtains closed, the only light now coming from her open laptop. He sat down on the side of her bed, reached over her, turned off the music and closed the laptop, plunging them into total darkness.

He slid off his shoes and Christie heard him slowly take off his hat and glasses and place them on the dresser next to Gussie's tank. He laid down next to her and put his arm out to slowly touch her shoulder. She rolled so her back was to him, and then pulled his arm across her so that his chest was to her back. She snuggled into him and closed her eyes. He breathed in the soft scent of her hair.

"You're... so beautiful… and I'm so-" he whispered as his voice caught in his throat. Christie looked back at him in the darkness.

"Don't." she whispered. Her hand found his cheek and he pressed it to his face. "I don't care how you look." she said softly. "You're my angel."

He pulled her hand away from his cheek and brought it to his lips, kissing it softly, sending a tingle throughout Christie's body.

"You must be tired, try and get some sleep." He said huskily. She turned away and rested her head on the pillow. He wrapped his arms around her and she didn't think that she would be able to, but she fell asleep within just a few minutes.