The Light of His Life
Disclaimer: Don't own POTO… but I do own Piers.
A/N: My exams are over… hurrah! Ripper, I'm emailing you right this second.
Please read and review…
Chapter 8: Unexpectedly…
Erik's heart fluttered as the hotel room door opened and a very tired-looking Christine answered, her little fist rubbing her eyes as she used to do as a child and he smiled, so endeared towards her.
Christine, however, when she finally laid her eyes on the unexpected man standing there, had a flurry of emotions running through her… Not least, surprise that he was there at all – her Angel standing before her – and she couldn't understand how he had come to be there. And then she had sufficiently recovered from her shock to realise that he wasn't simply a dream and that he really was there – which led to her becoming angry at him that he'd just turned up without any notice and expected her to just drop everything for him. And then she remembered that that was what she had wanted him to do the whole time she'd been away anyway. So, she settled for being mildly annoyed that he'd ruined her plan of being closer to him because of their time apart and completely flattered that he'd not been able to last even six days without her. "Angel," she said at last, a disapproving smile upon her face as she, unable to prevent herself, darted forward into his arms and laid her cheek against his shoulder.
"You missed me?" he asked, sincerely surprised at that as he brought his arms up around her, standing there in the middle of the hallway. He'd expected she'd be too busy to miss him even half as much as he missed her.
"Of course I missed you, you silly man! What did you expect?" At his unsure silence, she leaned back and shook her head, making him smile slightly as her voluminous curls brushed the backs of his hands. "I'd invite you in, Angel, but Meg and her mum are sleeping… Your knocking didn't waken them…"
"It seems you are more in tune to me than anyone else ever will be," he said proudly, his immense feelings for her only increasing as he saw her again. And he was unable to think of anything but her welfare… "Are you very tired, sweetheart?"
"Not anymore… not now that you're here."
Her Angel smiled and stroked her cheek affectionately. He thought she was so dear, so very sweet that he was surprised no one else had noticed and tried to win her before he'd realised what a prat he'd been. "Then, if you're feeling up to it, why don't you go back inside and get changed and I'll take you out somewhere…"
"Where?" she asked brightly.
"Now that would be spoiling the surprise… We have all of Florence, my dear – wherever I take you will be magical."
Her eyes flashed with an intensity he hadn't seen since before they'd had their falling-out and he couldn't help feeling a flutter in his heart as she swiftly kissed his cheek before skipping lightly back into the room to change, taking his suitcase inside with her.
Not ten minutes later, she came back out, looking radiant in an evening dress he'd never seen before and a smile he'd give the world to see again. "I left them a note," she started, taking his arm after he'd placed a pashmina delicately around her shoulders, "in case they should wake up and wonder where I've gone."
"Very considerate, sweetheart…" he murmured approvingly as he led her down to the ground floor and out through the quiet lobby. Handing her into a taxi, he made sure she did not hear the destination he told the driver before he took the seat next to her and revelled for just a few moments in the mere presence of his beloved. And finally, he told her he'd missed her.
"Really? I thought you'd be too occupied with work to miss me…"
"My dear, I could never be too anything to miss you were you not with me." He elected not to mention that he hadn't been at work anyway and had, in fact, had nothing to do for days but think and analyse and dissect every little action he had ever taken involving her.
"You braved an airport and a plane and all that hassle just to come get me?"
"I'd brave The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse for you – trust me, airport security was nothing compared to what it has afforded me here."
"You always know what to say…"
"When I'm not putting my foot in my mouth you mean…" At the lowering of her head out of embarrassment, he laughed softly, making her look at him again. "Don't you dare blame yourself… it is my fault we fell out of sorts and I am going to fix it. I have not properly apologised for what I did and, if you'll allow me, I'll happily spend the rest of my life making it up to you."
"I forgive you."
Sighing contentedly as she rested against his chest, he smiled the most genuine smile he believed had ever graced his unfortunate features. It was all he had ever wanted.
"Where are we, Angel?"
"Shh… let's not tarnish the atmosphere with things that don't matter… Dance with me, Christine."
"But–"
"Dance with me," he repeated firmly, leading her by the hand onto the large mood-lit dance floor of the restaurant they had just entered where many other couples she could see were similarly entwined with one another in a slow, unstructured dance.
In awe of the ambience of the whole place, she was surprised when he pulled her up against him and placed one hand on the small of her back and the other remained clutching her hand in his. And, in her surprise, he immediately led her in the gentle and thoughtful movements that made up their dance together. "You are so beautiful," he commented, managing to make it sound offhanded, when it really could not have been less so.
It was with much curiosity that she looked around at the other couples dancing and, more often than not, found that both of the woman's hands would be around the man's neck and her head would be on his chest. Then, it was without prompting that Erik revealed quite easily that he felt holding hands and looking into each other's eyes was far more romantic and she was left to wonder exactly what that had meant.
With the clarity – if somewhat brief – that had been afforded to her since having spent the last several days without him, she was starting to see things… little things that she might not have noticed before and certainly would not have acknowledged – things that were becoming blaringly obvious to her now that she had been granted perspective. The way he said things to her and the way he touched her – they were starting to strike her as slightly odd and her mind became preoccupied at why this was suddenly affecting her when it had never done so before. His jealousy at Raoul and the man in the restaurant who'd bought her a drink… the way he did things like this with her… Surely, she thought, no other man with wholly honourable intentions would take his foster daughter out dancing like this and tell her, not in so many words, that he'd rather be more romantic with her, would they? Surely not, no. But here they were… and, for the life of her, she could not pretend she was not having the most wonderful time she had since she'd been there. The grand gestures… the unswerving love he laid down at her feet… was it all just platonic? Did she want it to be?
With a heavy heart she looked up at the tender expression in his eyes and forced herself to smile, if even just a little so that he might be happy even if her mind was elsewhere. It was not long, though, before the smile became genuine and her tired mind rid all thoughts of anything other than the evening they were sharing.
"You haven't exactly had the most orthodox life, Christine, have you?" Erik said with unexpected melancholy.
"What do you mean?" she asked, surprised by the sudden topic of conversation. Up until then, they had talked little and only of what they had done without the other and every single little thing that they'd missed about them, but, it was with a marked sadness that Erik began this new topic.
"Living with me… Growing up with a man who, himself, had so little clue of what it was like to be a child… I never had a childhood, Christine."
"Are we not making up for that now, Angel?"
"Oh, Christine, you have more than made up for it in every way, my beautiful girl. I would have led such a barren existence if you had not come into my life as you did… if our lives had not fitted together so perfectly, I would be a truly bitter man, indeed. I feel as though your childhood was mine too… I have never had so much fun in my life. And I promise – I promise – to take better care of you from now on… I should never have treated you as such and I'll never regret anything more. I can't imagine what I would have done if I'd lost you… I'd never have forgiven myself for not treating you like the seraph you are."
"Don't fret so, Angel. You haven't lost me… and you needn't go out of your way to pamper me – well," she paused, changing her mind slightly, "perhaps just for a little while. But I'd be happy just for us to share the responsibilities a bit more equally from now on."
"I shall do more than that for you, my dear. I promise you will be the most cared for of woman from now on."
Pouting, Christine leaned back more to look at him properly and wrinkled her nose. "I don't need to be taken care of," she protested.
"I did not mean it like that."
"Then what did you mean it like?"
"I merely meant that it is about time I spoiled you for a change."
"I have no intention of becoming kept, Erik."
"Of course not. Do not get upset with me, Christine… I'm not trying to offend you. I know that you're perfectly capable of taking care of yourself – you have proven it time and again – but you don't have to anymore. I have been a fool to neglect you as I have… that is all going to change now. I'm going to do everything for you."
"I don't want you to do everything for me."
"Let us not argue, Christine… you have only just come back to me." "I missed you," he admitted.
"Oh, Angel," Christine smiled, choosing to forget what she had been upset about as she moved back into his arms, resting her head on his shoulder. "I missed you too."
"Tell me," he started after a time just standing in rest together. "Are you enjoying Florence?"
"It is beautiful… but it wasn't the same."
"How so?"
"I find I do not like so much sharing with other women…"
He looked down at her strangely and frowned. "Really?" he asked, surprised. "I find sharing with you the most wonderful of experiences."
"Well, let us just say that, at the very least, I can relate to your pain now, Angel."
"What's that?"
"If I were to trip over another pair of Meg's shoes, I think I'd go mad."
"Well, we can't have that, can we? You shall have no such trouble with me… though, I will admit, I missed not finding myself assaulted with such relics of your presence on a daily basis while you were away."
"I'm so happy to be going home again, Angel." She sighed and stretched, removing herself from his arms as she stood up.
"We are so stupid…" she commented after they'd spent a great deal of time in a comfortable silence.
"What do you mean?" he asked as he started them moving again.
"We couldn't even last six days apart," she laughed, shaking her head as she happily danced in his arms.
"I'm surprised I lasted that long," he agreed, stroking her back.
"But we should really talk about this, Angel…"
"About what?" He was confused and he did not like being so unsure of himself, especially around she who mattered the most.
"You got on a plane and came all this way because you couldn't last a week without me… don't you think that means something?"
"Of course it does – it shows you how much I love you…"
"Yes, that it does – but doesn't it seem odd to you that most foster parents wouldn't come this far just to see their foster child if she were only on holiday in the first place?"
"We are closer than other people, Christine. Why is this bothering you? Didn't you want me to come? I can leave again if my company is making you feel ill…" he offered sarcastically, his grip upon her tightening. "Don't play games with me, Christine. I could not bear it."
"Angel, don't be upset with me… I'm not playing games and your presence is certainly not bothering me – I was rather flattered when you just showed up like that…" she admitted, the blush colouring her cheeks as she lowered her gaze embarrassedly only further proving what she had said.
Erik smiled and kissed her forehead as she was still looking down. "Dance with me, Christine," he commanded again. And she did…
She danced with him until she'd almost fallen asleep, not long after she'd become so contentedly tired that he had allowed her to drop her arms to around his waist and her head to his shoulder as they gradually started to slow their dancing more to gentle swaying as he held her. And finally, regrettably, he led her back out of the restaurant and towards the hotel.
She was already asleep when they'd gotten back and he'd let himself into her hotel room, lifting her easily into his arms as he laid her in the made up sofa bed, a little miffed that she had been relegated to that thing when he would have made sure she got only the best. And he removed only their shoes, unable to bring himself to change her, especially when they were not alone.
And so, ignoring the second bed that the sofa folded out into, he slid in happily beside her, glad that she had enjoyed herself.
A yawning Meg Giry sat up in her hotel bed, awakened by the streaming sunlight coming in from the window, and she stretched, slipping out of her bed to face the other two beds in the room – the other single containing the sleeping form of her mother, and the sofa bed by the window surprisingly containing not one – but two people. She rubbed her eyes and shook her head, trying to see if she were dreaming or not, but the figures were still there… Moving closer to get a better look, she stared disbelievingly at the unmistakable forms of Christine in an evening dress and Christine's temperamental guardian in a dress suit, both in the top part of the sofa bed, even though it pulled out into two separate beds.
Waking her mother with a slight nudge, she pulled the surprised women over the sofa bed at the window and they stared as the sunlight danced across the oblivious couple lying there. "What's he doing here?" she whispered.
"Oh, I should have known better," Ada complained.
"What do you mean? How could you have known that he'd follow us here like this and just turn up out of the blue?"
"That's not what I meant… I meant, I should have know better thirteen years ago when I gave her up to him. I should have seen that it would turn out this way… Erik has always been rather… possessive. It would have done her the world of good if I'd just kept her – she could concentrate on herself instead of worrying about him then."
"You couldn't have prevented this – seems to me that he would have been this way whatever you'd done… I'm glad you let her live with him – if you hadn't, I think he would have run off somewhere with her and then where would we be? I don't want to lose Christine to him…"
Ada Giry didn't say anything, unwilling to point out to her daughter that it was likely that she was already lost. Truly, she believed, if it ever came down to it, that even Christine would, in the end, pick her Angel over her best friend. It was Erik's fault, she was sure – his fault that he'd made them both so dependent on one another. But the damage had already been done… and there was to be no going back for any of them. They'd just have to try to limit the way it was affecting their lives…
"What should we do?" Meg asked, then, her face clearly showing her disapproval.
"No point in waking them… he'll just want to have her to himself anyway. Let's go down for breakfast and, with any luck, we'll miss them when they go down."
"How can you say that? We have to be here for Christine."
"I know you feel that way, Meg – but she wouldn't thank you for it. This conversation is best left until each of us is firmly standing on home ground. We cannot try to make them see reason here…"
Acquiescing reluctantly, Meg went to get dressed in the bathroom before heading downstairs for breakfast. She would leave the pair of them alone as her mother had suggested – but she'd make sure everyone knew that she wasn't bloody happy about it.
"I'm a mess," Christine complained, sitting up in the bed she and Erik were sharing, both only recently wakened. They had danced so late into the night that they were similarly exhausted and contented, dwelling happily, if regretfully, in the previous evening's happenings. "Mascara everywhere…" she moaned, looking at the once-white pillow they'd been sharing and the wrinkles in her dress.
Erik, however, had wakened in an unusually exceptional mood. "Come here," her Angel commanded brightly, smiling at her concern for her appearance around him when he'd never seen her happier or more beautiful. And he pulled his soft handkerchief out of his breast pocket, running it delicately under her eyes as he held the back of her head in his other hand until the last remnants of her mascara from the night before were gone.
"How could you have let me go to bed without taking it off?"
"How was I to know that this is what happens when you don't?"
"You just should."
"My utmost apologies then, darling," he laughed.
His unclouded happiness was cut short, however, when the two other inhabitants of the room came back from their breakfast, up until that point, completely forgotten. Each of them shared a telling a look and then Meg and her mother pointedly didn't say anything – their faces telling the whole story by themselves – and started flicking through the channels on the television.
"I think I'll go take a shower," Erik said softly in her ear, the mood now completely ruined as far as he was concerned.
Don't you dare leave me to face them on my own, Erik Phelps-Jones. I'll have your head for this! "Do you have to go now?"
"If you want my personal hygiene to be more advanced than that of an ape then perhaps I should, darling, yes."
She sighed and nodded. "Leave the door unlocked, Angel."
He looked at her, perplexed beyond belief, sure there was just something he was missing.
"Don't look at me like that," she scolded, mock-slapping him on the shoulder. "There is a shower and a bath… and both curtains are opaque. I'll give you ten minutes to make sure you're in and then I'll have a bath, alright? It'll save time… and embarrassment," she whispered, nodding backwards at the cold stares she could almost feel on her back.
"On what front exactly will it save embarrassment? What if come out and you're…?"
"Oh, don't even go there – I'll make sure you're out before I even think of coming out myself. Besides… you don't take half as long as I do."
"Alright," he agreed, kissing her cheek and disentangling himself from her as he slid his leg out from under hers and got up off of the bed, ignoring the stares he could feel on his side as he retrieved a towel and a change of clothes before heading into the bathroom.
So Christine was left alone to face their disapproving glances for the next ten minutes. Quietly, she sighed to herself and got it over with, turning to look at them both. Honestly, the way they were looking at her, it was as though she'd invited some strange man back to their hotel room in the middle of the night for something other than just dancing… It was not as though none of them knew Erik… and what would they have her do? Send him off somewhere else when there was plenty of room here? Still, she did feel rather uncomfortable, sitting there in her dress from the night before, her face only slightly less messy than when she'd wakened up and a lot more shameful. So she busied herself with picking out a change of clothes and everything she would need for her bath. Then, making sure that the ten minutes was more than up, she warily entered the bathroom, finding, with a sigh of relief, that her Angel was already in the shower and she could not see him so much as hear him.
Smiling, she set her things down next to his and turned around to find that he had very sweetly already drawn her a bubble bath. So she made short work of folding her dress and slipped inside the bath, relaxing into the hot water as she listened to her Angel sing in the shower. She was well aware that he'd known the second she'd stepped into the room and she listened happily as he changed the song to something sweeter, something with a melody she would be humming for days that he was singing just for her. He could make her so happy, her Angel, even as he confused the very sense out of her at times.
Deciding rather easily that she would rather relax than dissect every single thing that had ever passed between the two of them, she settled down in the water, the bubbles covering everything from just below her shoulders down.
Ten minutes later, Erik finished his shower and stepped out onto the bathmat so that he could get dried and dressed. He was a little uncomfortable at being undressed with only a thin, filmy curtain between himself and Christine, but he decided that he would no more like to be caught naked than she would and, therefore, he could quite reasonably conclude that she would not open the curtain until he had gone. Turning away from the bath, he smiled at the message she'd left him in the condensation on the mirror and started to get dressed with a silly smile upon his face and happiness in his heart that he had longed for. It was a habit of hers that he particularly liked.
Deciding to break the now only slightly tense atmosphere, he started talking to her, hoping she would not find it uncomfortable, given the circumstances. "Why did they relegate you to the sofa bed, my dear? I hardly think it's fair."
"You hardly think it's fair because you found yourself sleeping in one…"
"No, I hardly think it's fair because I found you sleeping in one," he countered.
"I prefer them, Angel. You know that."
"I still don't think it's fair – you are the guest."
"Well, currently the guest isn't in very much favour with the rest of the party because the guest has brought along a guest of her own."
"Touché…"
"What do you think they're doing in there?"
"There's no point in guessing, Meg – we'll only be wrong. He's probably doing something unaccountably weird, like brushing her hair… or cutting her nails."
"It's like they're one person… it's sickening."
"Well, this is what you would have had to have put up with if I had had her live with us…"
"What do you mean? Surely they could not be this bad… you wouldn't have allowed it."
"What makes you think I could ever stop him? If he wanted to be with Christine – which he has most certainly proven by his persistence over the years – then he would be with her no matter what and no matter where she lived."
"Doesn't that bother you?" Meg asked, dismayed that her mother was being so passive about this when her best friend and her best friend's foster father were in the bathroom together, doing Lord knows what.
"What can we, mere mortals, do about it if it does?"
Meg would think of something…
"Are you dressed yet, Angel?"
"Yes, sweetheart – would you like me to leave now?"
"No, Angel, come over here and talk to me."
As he made to do so, she pulled the bath curtain open so that they could see each other. "What are you doing?" Erik asked, surprised, turning his back upon her in case she hadn't meant to do that and would be embarrassed.
"Turn back around, Angel. I'm covered in bubbles… I just want to see you while I talk to you," she explained.
Nervously, he did so and was relieved to find that she was, indeed, covered where it mattered. "What shall we talk about?" he asked then, crouching down next to the bath so that they were nearer.
"First of all, tell me when we're going home…"
"I have us reserved on a flight later this morning. We have time for breakfast and packing and then we'll have to go to the airport if we mean to catch it."
"Good, I'll be glad to be home at last."
"You're sure? You're not upset that I'm cutting your holiday short by several days?"
"Not in the slightest. How are Piers and his lady friend getting along?" she asked, aware that her Angel would know all of the relevant gossip.
"He's meeting her parents this week apparently. Well, actually he's meeting her father and her step-mother… but that amounts to about the same thing, doesn't it?"
"Wow, that's serious… but isn't he a bit old to be doing the whole meet-the-parents thing?"
"He would have to meet them eventually, love… best not left until the wedding day."
"So you think they'll get married?"
"This is the longest he has ever proceeded with anyone… that certainly means something."
"What will I do when I get married?"
"What do you mean?"
"I have no parents for my prospective husband to meet…"
Had Erik not loved Christine in the way that he did, he would have been offended – or, at least slightly miffed – that she had not considered him enough for her future groom to meet. However, as it was, he was offended for an entirely different reason – that she did not think he would be the husband in question. He didn't know how to offer her comfort for that when he little knew how to comfort himself, so he said nothing and merely played with the hand she was resting on the edge of the bathtub in thought.
"What's upset you, Angel?"
"I'm not upset."
"I know you better than all that."
"I'm not upset."
"I didn't believe you the first time you said it. What's wrong?"
"When you think of your future husband, Christine… what does he look like?"
"Well, I can't imagine what he'd look like, so I… I sort of imagine him looking like my closest male friend," she admitted, embarrassed.
"De Chagny," Erik sighed, "I understand." He stood up to leave.
"Raoul's not my closest male friend, Erik. And I could certainly never imagine marrying him…"
"Who is your closest friend then?" The look she had in her eyes unnerved Erik and made him more self-assured than he'd ever been in his life, both at the same time. "What are you saying?" She remained silent and he could feel beads of nervous sweat start to break out on his forehead. "Tell me, Christine," he commanded desperately, "No games."
"I'm not playing a game, Erik… I'm afraid."
"Of me?"
"I'm afraid of getting hurt… of telling you what I feel and finding that you don't feel the same way."
"I'm afraid too… and I'm afraid of losing you. One of us has to tell the other first…" Kneeling back down next to her, he took her hand again. "Christine," he started, unsure, "if you were to marry someone else… we would not be able to go on as we are. Many of the things we do are usually reserved for that of couples… like the dancing, and sharing the sofa bed, and being as close and open with each other as we are… If you married someone else, we would lose all that… do you understand what I'm saying?"
"Do you, Christine Daaé, take Erik Phelps-Jones as your lawfully wedded husband, in sickness and in health, forsaking all others as long as you both shall live?"
"I do," she trilled merrily, her face alight with the brightest smile he'd ever seen.
"I now pronounce you man and wife… you may kiss the bride."
Erik smiled delightedly and leaned down to her height, depositing a chaste, brief kiss upon her lips. "I love you," he whispered in her ear and then grabbed the young girl, lifting her four feet off the ground so that she might be level with him.
Christine was going through a dress-up phase at the minute, wanting to be a ballerina one minute and a bride the next… he been so happy to oblige her on every occasion. And he walked back into their kitchen with her from the patio – she'd wanted to be a summer bride she'd said… wearing white and standing in the sun.
"Are we married now, Angel?" she asked innocently.
And he nodded, unable to tell her that on this particular occasion, it was just make-believe. It was a guilty pleasure… but one that he could not deny himself. "Yes, child, we're married…"
As far as he was concerned… they were.
"I don't know, Angel… If I married someone else…?"
"We couldn't live together anymore if you married someone else." They had already married in soul, he believed… his Christine, his wife on so many levels… If she married someone else it would be bigamy, he believed, and it would be adultery and he would be forced to kill the other man before he'd let her go through with it. He had married her already, he thought adamantly, and no other man would have claim over his wife.
"I want to get married some day, Angel – I want to have children and a family and…"
"If you want all that then you can't have me, Christine. Unless…"
"Unless…?"
"Christine…" he whispered, placing a hand on either side of her neck as he brought her closer, until she mimicked his gesture. "Christine… it's us… or it's you and someone else and me on my own."
"So… so, you…" she whispered back, breathlessly and nonsensically as they stared at each other. "You…"
"Yes." He leaned forward slowly, the tips of their noses touching, and spent several moments just staring at her lips so that she would have no misunderstandings over his intentions. His breath deliciously tickling her nose, she almost purred and leaned in as he kissed her for only the second time ever on the lips. "I don't ever want there to be anyone but us…"
"Erik… I don't under–"
"Shush." He was trying to make up for all of the kisses he had ever missed out on and tried his hardest to be good for her though he had little idea what she would like. He was unaccountably glad she was his partner in every single kiss he had ever had in his life – but there was an awful feeling in him that he could have been better for her. So he pressed on regardless of his misgivings and pressed another kiss to her lips, his thoughts fleeing his mind in favour of the senses she provoked with her touch. God, he loved her.
"Erik–" she tried to get him to listen, unsure if they should rush so head-long into something so complicated. Her common sense just would not shut up – it told her she was kissing her foster-father – it told her she was kissing her teacher… it told her he had to be the best bloody kisser on the planet from the way he was making her feel.
Pushing back on his shoulders, intent to make him listen to her and take their situation seriously. She so wanted to continue kissing him – but not if it meant finding out later that they'd had their wires crossed all along. "Tell me," she begged, breathless from him.
"Tell you what?"
"Tell me… I need to hear you say it. Unless… what?"
"Forsaking all others," he started ambiguously, no little bit breathless himself. "That's a marriage vow, isn't it, Christine? Yes, I thought so… forsaking all others until death parts us. But we'll never be parted, will we, Christine? Not even by death…"
"No?" she asked curiously.
"No. We can never be parted. I have forsaken all others for you, my Christine. If you marry someone else, you will be forsaking me… but…"
"Yes?"
"If you and I forsook all others together… then we could never be parted."
"What are you saying? Say the words, Angel… I need to hear them."
"Is it not obvious, my dear? I am reciting you wedding vows… I take you, my beloved and my best friend, my chosen one, through all of our lives together." Removing his hand from hers, he slid his ring off of the smallest finger on his hand and onto her ring finger. "I give you this ring, which is bound to my heart. Wear it always, as a symbol of my love."
She knew this was not an official – or even real – wedding ceremony as they were quite obviously sitting in a bathroom, and yet, she started to cry quietly. Him – the man whom she had loved unknowingly for so long – he was offering her a chance to never be parted from him again when spending even six days apart had been hell. She could never refuse him…
But there was another side to married life that she was not sure she'd be entirely comfortable sharing with him – the physical side… Of course, they were already very physical in their affection for one another – but that was only very physical in so far as guardian and child went, not married couple…
Yet, as he kneeled in front of her, waiting expectantly, sharing small, innocent kisses with her, she was not sure that it could be all that bad with him. He had always been gentle with her and he knew precisely every single one of her pet-hates and habits… but was that just settling for the safe option? Could her Angel ever be called the safe option?
Abruptly – unthinkingly – she shot up onto her feet in the bath, completely forgetting her lack of clothes and only mildly retaining her modesty because of a few strategically placed bubbles.
"Christine," Erik gasped, "Christine, you're beautiful."
She tilted her head towards him as he stood and clasped her hands between them, wondering quietly what he was talking about and she was surprised only slightly as he started to kiss her again. Pulling back to look at her, a slight movement caught his eye and he noticed a small bead of water starting to run down her neck, begging him to follow it with his mouth, but he became distracted by her staring at her hand.
"It's a promise, Christine," he explained. "It doesn't have to mean anything on your part… but, with my ring, I promise – I vow – there will never be anyone else for me…"
She, starting to realise that she was naked, pulled a towel quickly around herself and got out onto the mat.
"Christine?" he asked desperately. He could not understand what she was doing and he was scared, though he couldn't explain it.
"Erik, I can't do this…"
"What's wrong?"
"You're… and I… and I can't… I can't do this, Erik. Forget it ever happened."
Devastated, he picked up his things in a hurry, surprised he could even remember about them when he felt the overwhelming pain in his chest, uncaring that the whole front of his suit was wet from her, and tried not to drop his broken heart on the way out.
© Copyright of CrawfordsBiscuits, June 2006
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