Hey, folks! Sorry about not updating last week—I was in the midst of a family emergency and couldn't really wrap my mind around anything else. But things are okay and I'm happy to be back this week! Thank you all so much for reading, reviewing, following, and favoriting. I hope you continue to enjoy the story!

When they had married, Erik had pictured a best-case scenario and a worst-case scenario. The best case was that Christine's presence would have a minimal impact on his life and that he would more or less continue just as he had been; there would simply be another person in his house. The worst case was that every aspect of his life would be substantially and painfully changed. In truth, though, the past two weeks had been somewhere in the middle.

It surprised him how quickly he had started to grow accustomed to seeing her so frequently and casually —passing her in the hall, hearing her humming quietly to herself as she walked by his study, even the walks that had become a habit when the weather was nice. The first few days had been quite jarring, but he imagined that anyone would have a difficult time being uncomfortable for too long around Christine. She always had a genuine smile for him and, just as he had felt since their first lesson, there was a kind of gentleness about her that seemed to set him at ease without him even realizing it. She not only intuited his discomfort, but she actually cared enough to try to ease it somewhat. Despite his initial determination to be as distanced from her as he could manage given their situation, he was finding himself drawn to her more and more.

He hadn't lied that night when he'd said he enjoyed her company, not exactly. It was more that he was only beginning to enjoy her company, only beginning to learn how to enjoy her company. He'd never liked being around people. Even with Armand, whom he had long considered the most tolerable person in his life, Erik always looked forward to being left alone again. Now that solitude was beginning to feel ever so slightly empty, lacking the warmth that Christine provided. He had anticipated wanting to avoid her as much as possible, but now he was starting to find that he looked forward to the moments of the day that they spent together—not just their lessons, but even the moments when they lingered over supper talking, or when they meandered silently through the dark neighborhood, her hand a gentle pressure on his arm.

And now she was also becoming someone with whom he could be candid—a precious kind of relationship if there ever was one. She did not seem to expect him to play the silly games of distant civility that he found so common in the other people with whom he interacted. Rather, she seemed to actually prefer it when he spoke plainly, and she was happy enough to return the favor. Their conversations had started growing less measured and halting and uncertain. They could speak about their thoughts directly, and while there was still some guardedness on Erik's part—there would always be, as he had found it a necessary trait to move through the world—he always found that her preference for candor made everything a little easier. It was simply one more thing that made their interactions the most pleasant part of the day.

Of course, perhaps it was just that her comforting presence and remarkable talent were a welcome reprieve from opera preparations, which took up most of his days. There were always more people to meet or correspond with, singers to hear, and papers to review, and he was finding his progress much impeded by the migration of so many others out of the city for the summer. Even Armand was in Newport with his family, although Erik still received frequent notes from him and knew he planned to return to the city from time to time to assist. "Assist" was Armand's word, but Erik suspected that his intent was less to actually assist him and more to check up on him. As much as he appreciated Armand's efforts at times, he still couldn't help but bristle at his watchfulness. Even in their idyllic country homes meant for enjoying the long, leisurely summer days in peace, the men whom Erik was meant to please would not allow him to go unmonitored but also would not bother to work with him themselves.

Still, he could not say that he truly didn't enjoy the work. Getting to plan the season, as restricted as he was, was thrilling. He found that there was nearly nothing as gratifying as considering what should be performed, selecting the right mix of oft-performed and lesser-known operas, knowing which ones would complement each other and deciding when something different should be thrown into the mix. He had come to suppose that if anyone could plan a compelling and artistic season under such less-than-favorable circumstances, it was him. And while he had to work within certain parameters now, he reassured himself with thoughts of the control he'd be granted when his programming proved to be successful. If he had anything to say about it, there would come a day when he would have free reign, when he would be respected and able to exert his influence over the musical world as he saw fit. That kind of legacy had long seemed to him the only thing in this miserable life that was truly worth pursuing.

Oddly, though, he was beginning to be prickled by the inclination to put these grand ambitions aside in favor of something that was surely a riskier and more foolish pursuit, and he was reminded of that something every day when she appeared in the doorway of his study promptly at their scheduled time. Christine was progressing remarkably well, much better than he had anticipated given her lack of formal education. In a way, they were actually quite likeminded. She was, at any rate, a far cry from the men he worked with who possessed little in the way of integrity or originality. She was wholly passionate and intelligent and eager to learn. And with every improvement she made, her voice captivated him more, lingering on the edges of his mind during every waking hour and often seeping into his dreams.

He wasn't sure when exactly the idea of casting Christine in a lead role had first occurred to him. He hadn't exactly given it consideration when he had unceremoniously announced his intent to Armand, but even then, the idea had felt fully formed. But somehow his plan to give her a more minor role had evolved without his really knowing it, and suddenly he was picturing her as Marguerite. They were practicing Faust when he first caught himself imaging her on stage, imagining the triumph she would unquestionably be. It was as if everything simply clicked into place, and then there did not seem to be any other option. His mind was made up before he could fully consider it.

For a while, then, he tried to talk himself out of it. He knew perfectly well that, just as Armand had cautioned him, no one would be particularly happy about his choice to cast a completely unknown singer as the lead in one of the company's most popular operas, much less in the performance that was meant to mark the triumphant opening night of the renovated opera house. If he wanted Christine to be Marguerite, he would have to fight for her tooth and nail. And shouldn't he be trying to pick fewer fights? He was on thin enough ice as it was and was beginning to realize that he may be heeding Armand's suggestion that he proceed with caution slightly too late. It was perfectly clear to him that he was wearing out his welcome with some of the board members, if they had welcomed him at all in the first place, and that their patience was waning when it came to his opinions. If he pushed for Christine, it would likely mean giving up control over other aspects of the season, stepping back from the insistence and involvement that he had been fighting so hard for. Or, far worse, this could even be one push too far and could end up costing him his career. Surely, a simple matter of casting was not worth that, even if it concerned an artist as immensely promising as Christine. The others wanted a big name to make that first performance as grand and extravagant as possible, and he couldn't say that he blamed them. He hadn't been against the idea before he'd met Christine, and he could hardly argue that there was no one else who could do the role justice. It would be foolish to fight for this, wouldn't it?

He would very nearly convince himself of this, and then Christine would step into his study for the day's lesson, greeting him with a smile that somehow seemed to grow a little sunnier each day despite the fact that she now spent most days with only him for company, and any measure of resolve he had reached would vanish. Her clear, exquisite voice, her unassuming air, her pretty features—she was meant for this role. She was meant to be on stage, and he found that he wanted to do everything in his power to ensure that she received the acclaim that she was due. Once she performed and everyone saw her brilliance, she would become an instant star. And of course he would be lauded for discovering her, for insisting that she be given the opportunity to shine. It would be risky, but it would pay off for both of them.

At least, that was how he planned to justify the decision to Armand.

When the morning of Armand's visit came, Erik found himself fighting the urge to stand up from his desk and pace the room. But no, he told himself, it wouldn't do at all for Armand to find him in such an agitated state, to understand how irrationally strongly he felt about this decision. He must appear calm and levelheaded, must present this as not what he most wanted but what was objectively the best decision. And it was the best decision; he felt it in his bones. But Armand was an astute man, and if he felt that Erik was biased in casting Christine or that the decision might be influenced too much by emotion, he would not be willing to hear Erik out.

Not that the decision was influenced by emotion. It just couldn't appear to be.

"Erik," Armand greeted as he entered and approached the desk. Erik stood to shake his hand.

"Armand. Is Newport as restful as it's meant to be?"

"I would imagine it is if you're not overseeing construction efforts and attempting to coordinate with a staff that has lapsed into complete disorder in the year since we last employed them," he said. "As it is, I have not found that the change in location has done much to relieve me of my work. But never mind that—tell me how married life is treating you. I was surprised, to say the least, to hear of your new bride."

"It was quite sudden," Erik said, hoping that the words implied a sudden romance and not a sudden, panicked attempt to bolster his career. Although he doubted Armand would buy it. "It has certainly been a change. But I have to admit that it's not an unpleasant one."

"I would very much like to meet Mrs. Mason if she is at home."

"She has gone to visit a friend this morning, but I will introduce you if she returns in time."

"Well then, as I know you not to be one for discussing personal matters," Armand said, taking a seat, "perhaps we should turn to the opera."

"Of course. I have finalized the season schedule and most of my preferred casting, which I believe you and the rest of the board will find acceptable. You may notice, in fact, that I have been particularly conceding to the board's wishes."

Armand thumbed through the papers that Erik had handed him, looking pleasantly surprised. "Yes, I believe the board will take umbrage with only a few points, which is far better than what I was anticipating receiving from you."

"I have also been working extensively with the chorus master and the orchestral manager, and I feel confident that we will have a strong foundation for the season. And, of course, I have been making frequent trips to the opera house and find that the reconstruction is going reasonably well." Erik swallowed. "There is, however, one casting matter that I should like to discuss specifically."

Armand paused in his examination of Erik's plans, looking across at Erik with an I-knew-this-was-too-good-to-be-true look. "Oh?"

"I have chosen to cast Christine Daae as Marguerite, including in the opening night performance."

"Christine Daae." Armand repeated the name thoughtfully as if trying to place it. "And that would be…?"

"She is the student I have been tutoring since April," Erik said, before adding hesitantly, "and my wife."

Armand's brows shot up at this. "I see. The unknown singer with no experience. And now your wife, as well. Just how do you plan to defend this choice to the board?"

"Simply," Erik replied, careful to ensure his voice held more certainty than he felt. "She is the best choice for the role. She is unknown only because, before now, she lacked training and opportunity. Once the others hear her, they will not doubt it."

"They will want to hear her," Armand said. "And they will want to hear you explain all of this. I cannot take this to them myself, Erik."

"Of course." Erik had expected him to say as much. And while going to the board himself was not exactly something he looked forward to, he had resigned himself to it.

"And need I remind you," Armand continued, "that I do not anticipate that anyone will be particularly receptive to this idea."

"I understand that."

With a heavy sigh, Armand sat forward, his voice growing low and somber. "You will be risking your position for this, Erik. Even if you are able to convince them to give this a chance, they will be watching you far more carefully than they are now, just waiting for a misstep. At the very first signs of failure, they will dismiss you. If she does not perform well, if there is not mad clambering to see her, if the crowds do not turn out or a performance is not well reviewed, it will be the end of your career. Have you really considered that?"

Of course he had considered all of this, and he had known that Armand would caution him anyway. But rather than eliciting a stab of fear or uncertainty, the words settled something in him, strengthening his resolve. He had no doubt that the board would do exactly as Armand said, and yet he did not waver in his belief that Christine should have this role. If all of this did go poorly and he lost everything he had worked so hard for, he supposed that at least he could say he went down in defense of his pure artistic vision.

"I have considered all of that, and it has not changed my mind," he said evenly. "She is the best choice, and while others may not see it now, they will."

Armand looked at him for a long moment before seeming to reach some level of acceptance. "Very well. I can see that your mind is made up. But, as I said, you will have to be the one to defend this. I think the best thing for you to do would be to come to Newport and meet with the others in person."

Erik gave a nod. The prospect of the trip was not pleasant, but he had expected it as well. "Then I will."

Heaving another sigh, Armand shook his head. "You are a fool, Erik."

"I know," Erik said.

The rest of the meeting was briefer than it ought to have been, Armand still processing the shock of Erik's commitment to such a risky idea. He was just preparing to leave when they heard Christine return, and Erik called out to her when she passed by his study.

"Christine, I'd like you to meet my colleague, Armand Martin," he said, standing and coming around the desk as she entered the room.

Armand rose as well. "Mrs. Mason. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"You as well," Christine said, glancing between the two of them with her usual warm smile. Erik thought for a second that perhaps he should have introduced them before telling Armand about his decision to cast her; her charm could only work in her favor.

"I regret that I do not have more time to become acquainted with you on this visit," Armand was saying. "But I do hope to see you again soon. And I hope that both you and Erik are finding marriage agreeable."

"I believe we are," she replied, and Erik believed that she genuinely meant it. The thought sent an odd warmth spreading through his chest.

Armand made his excuses, called away by the myriad of other meetings he needed to take while he was in the city, and soon Erik found himself alone with Christine again. She asked him how his meeting had gone, and he replied vaguely that it had gone as well as he expected it to. He was distracted, mulling over the idea of telling her what he had just told Armand. He'd made no mention of his intention to cast her, not even when he assumed it would only be in a minor role. And despite her dedication to their lessons and her curiosity about the new season, and despite how ambitious he knew she was, she had never asked him if she might be placed anywhere beyond the chorus. He had wavered between telling her of his plans now and waiting until it was all finalized. But if he was to go and convince the board in person, he might need to prepare her to meet with them as well.

"If you have a moment," he found himself saying before he was certain he'd made up his mind. "I have something I would like to talk to you about."

"Of course," she said, a small crease forming on her brow as she waited for what he had to say.

"I will be going to Newport shortly to present my plans for the company this season. I have finalized my casting for Faust, but given the significance of the season, Armand and I thought it wise that I meet with the board in person to discuss my choices. You are welcome to join me in Newport, of course, if you would like a change of scenery."

Her face lit up with interest at this, and not for the first time he felt a stab of guilt at how isolated she had been for the last couple of weeks. With the exception of today, when she had gone back to the boarding house to visit her friend, she only had him for company. And while she told him that she did not mind, he doubted she really meant it.

"That sounds lovely," she said. "I would be happy to join you. It's been so long since I have been out of the city."

"Do let me know if you need anything as you prepare, then. I imagine we'll leave next week."

"I will, thank you." She hesitated, curiosity plainly written on her face, and Erik's heart sped a bit in anticipation of answering the question he knew she was about to ask. "If you don't mind me asking, who have you cast? It cannot have been an easy choice with all the anticipation around the season."

"It was actually quite an easy choice." He met her eyes, a smile tugging faintly at his lips. "I would like you to be Marguerite."

Christine was still for a moment as his words sunk in. "Erik, you're not serious," she said quietly.

"I am perfectly serious. You are the clear choice for the part." Erik's eyes followed her as she turned and began to pace, biting her lip.

"But I have never even performed before, at least not on this scale. I was only meant to be in the chorus."

"That was before we began our lessons," he replied calmly.

"And how will it look for you to cast your wife over dozens of highly skilled, internationally acclaimed artists?"

"As soon as anyone hears you sing, there will be no talk of any undue bias; it will be perfectly clear that you deserve this role."

She stopped pacing, then, and looked back at him. He crossed the room to stand beside her, meeting her gaze steadily. At first it had made him feel too exposed to hold her gaze, but he was beginning to find it pleasant in a way, always finding warmth and sincerity in her dark eyes.

"Do you really think I can do it?" she murmured. "Do you really think I'll be ready?"

"I do. I would not cast you if I did not have complete faith in your abilities. You are meant for this, Christine."

She ducked her head, and for a moment Erik feared she might decline the role. She'd never struck him as one to allow fear to hold her back, but perhaps this was just too much.

"Christine?" he said gently.

When she looked up at him again, he was relieved to see the hopeful smile spreading across her face. "You mean that?"

He gave a nod. "I do."

Then, without warning, she was throwing her arms around his neck, crushing herself to him. "Thank you, Erik," she breathed. "Thank you so much."

His arms encircled her waist cautiously, and for a moment his voice was caught in his throat, overwhelmed by the warmth of her small body and the faint floral scent of her perfume and the way his fingers brushed the ridges of her corset just faintly detectable under her dress. When he could speak again, his voice came out weaker than he'd expected.

"There's no need to thank me. I am not doing this as a favor to you. I have no doubt that you are simply the best choice for the role."

Christine pulled away slightly, beaming and bringing her hands up to cover her flushed cheeks. "I promise to do my best not to prove you wrong, then," she laughed. "I cannot believe this."

"You deserve it. And you will be absolutely brilliant."

Her expression softened at his words, and for half a second all he could think about was pulling her close again.

"I suppose I should let you return to your work," she said softly, drawing him from his thoughts. "But that you for telling me. Thank you for everything."

He wanted to deny again that she needed to thank him, but something in the earnestness of her expression stopped him. "Of course," he said instead.

With one more warm smile, Christine turned and practically skipped from the room, her initial apprehension seeming to have fully given way to eagerness. Erik remained where he stood and watched her go, finding that he felt unexpectedly lightheaded and unable to quite remember why he had ever hesitated to give her the role. Surely, he'd had no reason to hesitate; Christine was perfect.