A/N: I debated whether or not to publish this chapter right now because it's so short, but after reading and re-reading it, it just feels...full. Like if I added anything else to it, it would just be too much. And I felt that I needed to get something out because it's been so long since I've posted anything. In the end, I think it works, and it's a good way to bridge the gap between this and the rest of the story. Honestly, I've struggled with this chapter so much over the past few months. I've written and deleted so much content because it didn't feel right. Then, today, the words and thoughts all came together and for the first time in a long time, it feels right. So I'm posting it.

For those keeping up with the events in my life, it's been an extremely exhausting yet rewarding couple of months. My husband has persevered every step of the way and has managed to stay positive and upbeat through all of it. And yesterday, he picked up the final version of his prosthetic and was released back to work on full duty with no restrictions this morning. It's been a happy and emotional day all around. Thank you, thank you for all the messages and reviews containing warm thoughts and well wishes! I've treasured each and every one of them.

Again, sorry for the length, but there will be more on the way, I promise. Please let me know what you think.

Chapter 36

"You look troubled."

"Huh?"

Jake chuckled, his lightly amused laughter echoing around the small breakroom. He leaned against the doorframe and casually sank all his weight into one hip. "You've been twirling that forkful of spaghetti for about five minutes now."

"Oh." My gaze dropped to the plastic tray of frozen microwave spaghetti and I grimaced when I saw that I was slowly turning the noodles into a goopy mush. Frowning, I pushed the tray away from me and set my fork down next to it in disgust.

"Why so glum?" he asked. "Are you still feeling under the weather? Do you need more time off?"

"No," I replied softly, not wanting to look at him. I heaved a sigh and leaned back, crossing my arms over my chest. I'd been avoiding him all day and could count on the fingers of one hand the times we'd made eye contact today. It wasn't a surprise that he still thought I was sick.

I'd tossed and turned for hours last night, thinking about how I'd bring it up and what to say to him, while the whole time I wrestled with myself and wondered if I was really truly making the right choice. This, out of all the possible scenarios I'd concocted in my head, was not quite what I had imagined.

"Listen, Jake," I said finally. "I've been doing a lot of thinking about what you said and how I feel about it. How I feel about you." The playful smirk slid off his face and his eyes turned from a brilliant sky blue to a shadowy stormy gray. In that moment he looked absolutely crestfallen, and once again I seriously considered chickening out. No. No, I had to do this, for both our sakes. "And the more I think about it," I continued, "the more I think it's best that we end things now."

He had to have known this was coming. Right? Of course he did. But that still didn't make this any easier.

"Is there anything I can do to change your mind?" he asked quietly.

I shook my head. "No. You and I both know that what we're doing is highly inappropriate and could cost you your license. I'd never forgive myself if that happened."

"I could always fire you," he teased, the corner of his mouth turning up in a lackluster grin.

I couldn't tell if he was joking or if he was somewhat serious, so I just laughed and smiled back at him wistfully.

Jake exhaled loudly, his shoulders dropping in defeat. "If you're sure this is what you want. I know we could work something out, but I respect your decision."

God damn it. After Ben's douchiness, Jake's sincerity and overall geniality was a breath of fresh air. Was I stupid to walk away from the opportunity to be with such a great guy?

You don't love him, I reminded myself for like the bazillionth time. You're in love with an almost two-hundred-year-old disfigured Opera Ghost who doesn't love you back, both of which are enough to make you certifiably insane, but there it is. Choice made. No going back now.

"I'm sure." I opened my mouth to say more, but hesitated.

"What is it?" Jake asked, immediately picking up on my uncertainty.

"Do you think we'll still be able to work together after this? The last thing I want is for things to be weird and awkward between us."

This time, the smile that crossed Jake's lips was warm and genuine. "Of course. I wasn't lying to you when I asked you to let me prove that I can be professional. That isn't going to change just because we aren't together. You don't have to worry about me."

I breathed a sigh of relief. "Okay."

"Okay. I'll let you get back to your lunch."

With that, he pivoted on his heel and walked back to his office, leaving me to question if I'd made the right decision, or if I had just walked away from the opportunity of a lifetime.

Christine was strangely quiet when she walked through the door that night, but I didn't think much about it at first. I had assumed her aloofness had more to do with the lingering effects of her illness than anything else. We had taken up our usual positions—her on the sofa and I at my piano—and she was currently nestled in the corner of the cushions with a blanket, listening to me play while sipping from a steaming mug of hot chocolate. A warm drink, similar to tea, she'd explained to me with a smile. Not actually melted chocolate, as the name implied.

The evening, although we hadn't really spoken to each other, had passed by too quickly, as time often seemed to do whenever we were together. I couldn't help but shake my head at the irony, for I'd spent most of my existence wishing that time would move swiftly and put an end to my torture, only to find that it now moved much too fast for my liking. Whereas once I couldn't wait for a day to end, now I found myself scrambling to savor every single moment that I spent in her presence. The days she was out of the house crept by at a glacial pace and the nights she was here with me felt like they were over before they'd even started.

Funny, how suddenly I began caring about time.

Every so often, my attention would drift from my playing to her, and each time it did, my concern that something was wrong only deepened, growing more intense as the night wore on. Her eyes appeared empty; her gaze either riveted on her mug or on the flickering flames inside the hearth.

"Christine?" I prompted softly after another twenty minutes or so had ticked by and she had yet to say anything.

She finally looked at me and canted her head quizzically. "Do you ever feel like you've just made the worst decision in the world?"

I blinked, try to ascertain whether or not she was being ironic, but when it became clear that she was dead serious, I answered, "I've made a few. Why? What bad decision did you make?"

"I broke up with Jake today."

"Ah." I leaned away from the keyboard and placed my hands in my laptop. "And you are…regretting it?"

"No." She shook her head. "Yes. I don't know."

"I am hardly an expert on matters of the heart," I replied in as neutral of a tone as I could manage. "Perhaps one of your girlfriends would be more helpful?"

"Normally," she said wryly. "God knows Maddie would be ecstatic to hear that I finally went through with it. But I…." She paused to set her mug on the coffee table in front of her and then pulled her legs toward her chest and wrapped her arms around them tightly. "I felt that out of all my friends, you'd probably understand what I'm going through the most."

I was stunned into silence, any words of comfort I could offer her fleeing from my mind as my lips went dry, rendering me quite incapable of speaking. I could only gape at her, hoping that my eyes would express everything to her that my voice could not.

"Would you care for a drink?" I managed to ask after several minutes passed with each of us lost in our own thoughts. Ordinarily in times such as these I would reach for a glass of brandy to steady my nerves, but I had neither the brandy nor the ability to drink it.

"Yes," Christine breathed, shooting me a grateful smile. "Please."

Nodding, I rose to my feet and went to the kitchen, where I found a half-consumed bottle of cabernet sauvignon in her wine rack on the counter next to an empty glass. I poured the rich red liquid into the glass, filling it about a quarter of the way full, and returned to the living room.

"I've questioned my decisions regarding Christine almost every day since the night she walked out of my life," I revealed soberly as I handed her the glass. She accepted it from me gratefully and slid over, making room for me on the sofa next to her. I sat down on the cushions, feeling as though the weight of all my choices were crushing down on me. "Would things have been different, as you said, had I not initially deceived her about my existence? Would her feelings for me had changed if I'd allowed them to blossom naturally rather than trying to force her love? Would she still have chosen the boy over me?"

"Is this my last chance at love?" she whispered.

At my side, my fingers twitched achingly. How I longed to reach out and touch her. To cup her face and kiss her lips and tell her the truth: that I loved her and would do anything for her. But what good was the love of a ghost? At best I would be condemning her to a relationship she would never be able share with the outside world. The worst—and probably the most likely scenario—was that her friends would have her committed to an asylum for the terminally insane for going on about having a relationship with someone who didn't exist to anyone else. And that was if she could look past my ghoulish appearance. While it was true that I felt more accepted for who I was with her than I ever had before, she still hadn't seen my face. One glimpse of my ghastly, disfigured visage might just ruin everything.

Instead, I sighed in solidarity and struggled to keep my traitorous hands to myself.

"We make quite the pair, don't we?" she said with a small laugh, nudging my shoulder with hers.

I drew in a deep breath and exhaled slowly, a fruitless action considering that I didn't actually need to breathe, but it was a habit that was hard to abandon, even after all these years. Then, I turned to her and smiled fondly. "Yes. Yes, we do."