Chapter Nine

It was March 5th, Henri's fourth birthday, and they had just eaten dinner. Soon, it would be time to serve the cake. The day had been very pleasant so far, and Christine hoped it would stay that way. There hadn't been as much tension between she and Erik as there had been since that morning in February.

Giselle brought out the fresh, warm chocolate cake and set it on the table, curtsying before leaving the room. "Does that look good to you, Henri?" asked Erik.

"Yes!" Henri replied happily. Christine beamed at him; she couldn't believe how big her little boy had gotten... It seemed like just yesterday he was Claire's age, and now look at him... Four years old...

Erik smiled softly as he picked up the dull knife Giselle had served with the cake. "It is a tradition that the birthday boy takes the first cut of the cake," he explained, handing Henri the knife, while looking up at Christine, silently asking permission.

Christine smiled softly at him, and gave a small nod. Henri took the knife from Erik; once he made a sufficiently accurate cut into the cake, Erik took that knife from Henri and cut a piece of it for him, serving it. "Will you have some ice cream as well, son?" he asked.

"Yes, please," Henri replied, smiling at Erik and taking a big bite of his cake.

Taking the container of freshly churned vanilla ice cream, he asked, "How many scoops will you have?"

Henri opened his mouth to say, but Christine interrupted him, "One is enough," she said with a smile, "We want you to be able to sleep tonight, little boy." She ran her fingers through his unruly, short curls and kissed his cheek; Henri giggled.

He nodded and served the ice cream to the birthday boy, before asking, "Will you have any cake, Christine?"

"Yes, please."

He cut her a rather large slice of cake; "Ice cream, as well?" he asked with a small smile.

She returned the smile, "Sure, why not." He dished up a scoop of ice cream for her, assuming she would want the same amount as Henri, before finally cutting a piece of the uniced cake for himself.

Christine, holding Claire steady on her lap with one arm, took a bite of her cake. She felt like they were a real family, though in truth they were far from it, and their living situation was quite an odd one... But it made her happy. She was so relieved that the tension between Erik and herself had broken, if only for that day. She longed for them to be able to be friends again--though had they ever been just friends? She didn't think so. Did she want them to be just friends? Again, she didn't think so. Lately, more than ever, she had found herself wanting to be near Erik, to be with him... She had begun to wonder if she was in love with him. It was entirely unacceptable... She a young widow with children, still in mourning, but she knew she couldn't hide from the truth--at least, not for much longer.

Once the cake had been finished and gifts had been exchanged (Erik had given Henri the teddy bear he'd requested), Erik said, "I suppose that you should be getting to bed now, Henri. It is quite late, in fact."

"I'm not sleepy," he countered. Christine sighed, she would be happy when he grew out of the stage of never wanting to go to bed or take naps. "Darling, it's passed your bedtime," she said to Henri as she adjusted Claire so her head was resting on her shoulder, and rubbed her back soothingly; the baby girl had dozed off some time ago.

"Indeed it is," agreed Erik. "You do want a story, don't you, Henri?" he tempted.

"Yes, but I'm not ready to go to sleep!"

"Well, you won't get a story if you don't get to bed soon," Christine piped in. "Alright..." Henri said, reluctantly, "Will you read to me, Erik?"

"Yes," he said with a nod. "Come," he added, rising from the table and heading to the stairs. Henri followed Erik up the stairs, Christine following behind them.

Erik readied Henri for bed, as he did most every night of late. Pulling the sheets back for the little boy to climb in, Erik sat on the edge of the bed with the book of short children's stories which lived on Henri's night table. "May I begin?" he asked. Henri nodded, yawning softly.

Christine entered her bedroom, setting Claire in her crib, and wrapping a blanket around her lovingly, and caressing her tiny, chubby cheek. She blew out the candles around the room then went and stood in the doorway of her son's room, waiting for Erik to finish reading to him so she could kiss him goodnight. She watched as Erik read to Henri... They had become so close, and Erik had taken on the father role in her son and daughter's life so effortlessly it astounded her. He was so good with her children, it was as though they were is own, and that made her so very happy.

Erik closed the book and turned to Henri as he set the book back on the table. "Goodnight, son. Rest well." He rose from the bed. "I shall see you in the morning."

"Goodnight, Erik," Henri said sleepily, yawning once again. Christine smiled, and crossed the room, leaning by her son's bed.

"Goodnight, my boy," she said, leaning down and kissing his cheeks.

"Goodnight, Mama," Henri replied, wrapping his arms around her neck and hugging her.

"Sweet dreams," Christine whispered, breaking the embrace and rising from the floor, blowing out the candle beside his bed before turning to leave the room.

Erik loomed at the door way, watching the mother and son exchange goodnights. Upon Christine's approach, he turned and began to walk down the stairs, heading to the library, as was his nightly ritual.

Gathering her courage, Christine followed him down to the library. She needed to talk to him; she needed to tell him... that she loved him. She was sure of it now... She didn't know how, but she could just feel it. All she could do was hope that he wouldn't reject her, as she had done to him all those times in the past.

Erik had settled down on the leather couch, book in hand, and a fire in the fireplace. He opened the book to where he had left off last night when he became aware of Christine's presence. He raised his eyes from the text and asked, "Christine, what is it you seek?"

She took a deep breath. "I... I need to talk to you."

"Be my guest," he said, gesturing to the free space on the couch.

"Alright..." she said, crossing the room and settling down upon the couch, not sure of where to begin, she sat in silence for a few moments, as he stared at her expectantly.

"I have... sort of... realized something..." she stammered, clearing her throat, and wringing her hands nervously.

"What is it that you somewhat have realized?" he prompted.

"Well... I've always cared for you Erik, especially when you took me and my children in..." she rambled on, stalling.

"Indeed..."

"...But lately my feelings for you have... deepened... and..." she cleared her throat again... God, this is hard, Christine thought to herself.

He said nothing, waiting for her to finish her statement. She turned her head away, looking at the doorway.

"I think I'm in love with you," she mumbled, her words barely comprehendible.

He closed his eyes a moment, not daring to believe what he had heard. After a moment, he gently turned her head so she was looking at him once again. Letting his hand rest lightly on her shoulder he said the only word that could make it to his lips. "Oh?"

She cast her eyes downward. "Yes," she whispered. He took note of this.

"Are you ashamed, dear?"

"No... I'm scared to death." She was scared that he would reject her; scared of what would happen if he did not. She had never felt this way before and that frightened her too, this whole thing was completely new to her.

"Frightened?" he asked, slightly hurt. "What of?" he asked, his hand instinctively finding and holding hers.

"I've never felt this way before..." He pondered on this a moment, wanting to ask what of the boy, but deciding against it.

"What way do you mean?" he prodded.

"I've never... loved anyone in this way... I've never needed anyone this much," she whispered.

He looked away, feeling this way too much to take in at once. Of course, he'd dreamed of this day, but never had it been so intense... He'd never imagined that it would actually happen, and he was quite taken aback by it, though, of course, overjoyed at the same time. Still, he had his doubts... Perhaps she had just gone without love for too long, and he was the simplest subject to overcome. He did not know how do voice his concerns politely, so he decided to abandon that approach altogether.

"Christine... How can you know this? You were recently widowed... in need of love... You know I love you, and would not refuse you if you told me such things..."

"You think... You think I'm manipulating you?" she asked, feeling hurt... She had thought it over for so long; it had taken so much courage to tell him, and now he just assumed that she was using him.

"I am sorry... I suppose I simply have difficulty trusting happiness," he said quietly.

"This isn't exactly as romantic as I thought it would be..." she said, a small smile on her face. He laughed softly.

"Things rarely go as planned..."

"That's true..." He squeezed her hand gently.

"My apologies for ruining your vision."

She sighed. "Do you trust me? Do you believe that I mean what I say?"

"Yes," he replied at length, "I believe that I do..." Hesitantly, she placed a hand on his shoulder and leaned in, her face close to his; wanting to kiss him, but at the same time she wasn't sure if he wanted her to.

Tentatively, he met her lips in a chaste, unsure kiss, fearing that she would pull away and take back all that she had said. Christine smiled through the kiss, opening her mouth slightly to deepen it; she moved her hand from his shoulder to the back of his neck, pulling him slightly closer to her.

Slowly, as if afraid it was all a dream, he slid his tongue into her open mouth and entwined it with hers, his hands moving to her hips.

She moaned softly into his mouth, letting her hands move down to his lower back, then back up to his shoulders. He pulled apart from her. "Christine, I love you," he whispered.

A tear slipped down her cheek. "I love you too..." He kissed it away before claiming her lips again, more deeply this time. He had never been truly happy until now... He loved her so much, and could not believe she felt the same way.

Christine closed her eyes as he kissed her; it was pure bliss. She lightly traced his mouth with her lips, reaching her hand up to run her fingers through his hair, as the other stroked his chest lightly.

The new found sense of freedom between them was astounding and refreshing; it did not matter if they wished to be forward; they were not required to restrain themselves, and Erik adored it. He finally broke the kiss, and planted several more on her cheeks, nose, and forehead before leaning back against the couch, needing to pause for a moment. Christine climbed onto his lap, and placed soft, almost teasing, kisses on the curve of his neck and the base of his throat.

"Christine," he breathed, as pleasure and desire began to fill him; his hands found her hips. He was mildly surprised by her boldness.

"Yes?" she asked, continuing to kiss his neck, her hands on his chest.

"Must you tease me so?"

She looked up at him, with a smile and nodded, "Of course," she murmured, straightening up so her face was only inches from his.

He kissed her lips once more, not bothering to cloak his intense passion. He noticed, embarrassingly, that his arousal was straining against his trousers in the most uncomfortable way. He pulled apart once more. "Christine, let us go upstairs."

Christine nodded, slightly winded from the intense kiss. "Alright," she said, her voice breathy; she got off of his lap.