Chapter 26

If I'd had any lingering doubts as to Christine's romantic intentions, they were fully extinguished tonight when her blonde-haired friend brought up the subject of her Christine's suitor and all but confirmed my suspicions. So, the young man who had shown up unannounced the other day did indeed fancy her. I'd suspected as much. But it was the way Christine had immediately looked at me, as though she feared my disapproval, that really made me take a step back. I had no right to claim her or dictate who she could and could not court, and her worried frown was all the more reason to shove these misplaced feelings aside before my jealously did any real, lasting damage to our friendship.

Friend.

How I'd longed to be addressed with such a title. But now that I finally had, the term didn't seem as exhilarating or as gratifying as I once thought it would. I was not ungrateful. Oh, far from it. In truth, I was honored beyond measure to have such a dear friend, but somehow the label grated when I yearned to be so much more.

XXX

I don't know whether it was the abrupt transition from the cold air outside to the warm air inside, the tequila coursing through my veins, or a combination of both, but the room tilted on its side the moment I walked through the door. Lurching forward, hands splayed out in front of me, I stumbled into the front room and braced myself against the back of the couch with a shaky laugh, praying silently to whatever god was listening to make the room stop spinning.

Erik was instantly at my side, his hand gripping my elbow to keep me from toppling over.

"Are you alright?" he asked. I saw his dark brows partially disappear beneath his mask as they furrowed in concern.

"Yeah," I replied lowly, focusing on breathing through my mouth to stave off the incoming wave of nausea. "I think all those shots are finally catching up with me."

"Here. Let me help you."

His fingers slid down my forearm and circled around my wrist. Gently placing his other hand against the small of my back, he carefully guided me around the couch and held me steady as I lowered myself to the cushions. Then he retreated to his chair and waited patiently for me to get my bearings.

"It might be best if you retired for the evening," he suggested after several minutes passed by with only the sounds of my unsteady breathing breaking the silence.

"Strange as it sounds, I don't think I can sleep right now. Maybe we could do something?"

"What did you have in mind? Because if it's working in your kitchen, I utterly refuse to let you handle any tools right now. In fact, you're not going in there at all, so don't even think about it. It's too dangerous for you to be walking around all that debris in your inebriated state."

"Okay, mom," I snickered. His concern for me was undeniably endearing. "I was actually going to say talk, but it's cute when you get all over-protective."

"Talk." He considered a moment. "Yes, that is acceptable."

"I'm so glad you think so."

He skewered me with sardonic smile but the twinkle in his eyes betrayed his gruff countenance. "Very well, then. What would you like to talk about?"

Of course, all rational thought instantly fled my brain the second he asked me that, leaving me with a complete deer-in-the-headlights look upon my face. "I don't know."

One of Erik's brows quirked up in amusement. "This was your idea, my dear. You must have some inkling of what you'd like the topic of conversation to be."

"Smart ass."

He let out another one of those heart-fluttering laughs. It absolutely warmed my soul when he did that. I had the strong suspicion that not very many people had heard him truly let go and laugh like that, and it made me feel special to think that I had been able to break through his brusque exterior and see the side of him that he'd no doubt kept hidden from everyone else.

And it was on the heels of that thought that I came up with the idea to use this as an opportunity to learn more about him. Sort of like my own private truth or dare game, minus the dare part.

"Okay, then," I said. "Since you're leaving it up to me, I want to know more about you. So, umm…what's your favorite color?"

"I…." He faltered. It wasn't very often he was at a loss for words. He blinked several times and then his eyes took on a contemplative, almost wistful appearance. "I don't think anyone's ever asked me that before."

I bit back a grin. "Well? You must have a preference."

"Red," he revealed. "It's such versatile color."

"How so?"

"Red can represent anger, sensuality, and desire but it can also be subtle, as it is often used to portray courage, health, and love."

"Why, Erik, I do believe there may be a romantic hiding beneath all those layers of black."

He lifted his chin, meeting my gaze cautiously, and whispered, "Perhaps."

The air between us crackled with electricity. I felt it prick at my skin, causing the hair on my arms to stand on end as I caught the briefest of glimpses of how Erik would look overcome with desire. I could only imagine how it would be if he allowed himself to let go and give in to his urges, and I found myself irrationally furious and jealous of Christine Daaé all at the same time for having witnessed that elusive emotion herself.

Then, as if he suddenly realized that he'd divulged too much, the look disappeared, shuttered firmly behind his impenetrable and ever-present mask.

Eager to ease the tension between us before it became awkward, I blurted, "Mine's green. All kinds of green. It's warm and alive and reminds me of late spring and summer. Which I'm really starting to miss right now," I said with a dramatic sigh. "Winter is my least favorite season. It's so cold and drab. Everything's gray and dead and ugly. I mean, I guess November and December are okay, since the holidays kinda give it a magical winter wonderland feel, but January and February? Bleh." I made a face and pretended to retch. "Do you have a favorite season?"

Erik lifted his shoulder in a graceful shrug. "Not really. I traveled extensively in my younger years. Different parts of the world yielded different climates regardless of the time of the year. And when I finally settled down and built my house below the opera, I rarely ventured outside enough to care or even notice what season it was."

"Fair enough."

"Now Christine, on the other hand…she favored autumn. She mentioned to me many times that she loved it when all the leaves changed colors."

My resolve faltered ever-so-slightly as I tried to ignore the twinge of envy that vibrated through my chest at his mention of her. Then I immediately chastised myself for being so bitter about it. After all, wasn't that the point of these conversations? To get him talking about her in the hopes of finding that special link that would bring them back together.

God damn it. Being the supportive friend was turning out to be a lot hard than I expected.

"I have a friend like that," I said, trying to steer the conversation back on its track and not let it get too far off the rails. "Maddie—the blonde-haired girl that was here tonight—she is absolutely obsessed with fall. Once September hits I swear all I hear about is sweater weather, cute boots, and pumpkin-spice lattes. But anyway, I'm getting off topic. This is supposed to be about you, remember? So, out of all the time you and Christine spent together, is there a particular moment that stands out? A favorite memory?"

I watched as Erik seemed to shrink into himself. While the mask concealed most of his facial features, I had become quite adept at reading his body language, and the set of his shoulders and the shadows that were now clouding his eyes told me that what I had just asked had hurt him on some level.

"Did I say something wrong?"

"No," he quietly replied. "You didn't say anything wrong. I have several memories that come to mind, but I'm beginning to realize that every single one of them is tainted by my feelings of anger and resentment or colored by her underlying fear of me. Every interaction we had has some sort of negative connotation attached to it. Even when we sang together, I was so consumed with my desire to possess her and hide her away from the world and the prying eyes of her lover that I failed to take the time to just simply enjoy being in her presence."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean—"

"Now," he went on as if he hasn't heard me at all, "if you had asked me to choose a favorite moment out of all the time you and I have spent together, I don't think I would be able to choose just one."

"Oh?" I squeaked, feigning nonchalance as my brain rapidly tried to shift gears.

"We've done things together that I've never experienced before. Working side-by-side on all your projects, sitting down and having conversations like these. Christine and I would often read together after our lessons, but we never once had any real, in-depth discussions like we do," he said, referring to us with a flick of his hand. "No one has ever cared enough to ask me about my preferences or sought to understand how my past and my deformity have affected me. You treat me like a…a person. Not an angel or an opera ghost or some nameless, faceless villain who acts without remorse. It's as if this," he gestured toward his mask, "does not exist when we're together."

To my alcohol-saturated brain, he may as well have just confessed that he loved me. My heart soared. I felt light and airy and completely invincible. Like at any moment I could fly up and touch the sky. The warm rush that spread out from my chest made me dizzy and it was kind of hard to breathe, but I knew right then and there that I wanted more of it. I wanted—needed—to prove to him that I could be all that and more.

Tucking my legs underneath me, I leaned toward him impulsively. "Erik, do you trust me?"

"Yes." He nodded hesitantly, as though wrestling with a lifetime's worth of instinct. Then he nodded again, this time more resolutely. "Yes."

"Show me. Let me really see the man behind the mask."

Erik recoiled as if I'd just reached over and shocked him with a live wire, and instantly the moment was gone. If I lived to be a thousand years old, I would never forget the way his golden eyes flashed with heartache and despair.

"This…," he whispered brokenly. "This is what you do with my trust? You use it as a knife to stick in my back the moment I let my guard down?"

"What? No! Of course not! I—"

He leapt to his feet and whipped around the chair, clutching the backrest in a vice-like grip. "It was simply not enough to enjoy each other's company, was it? No, you and your insatiable curiosity! You just had to pry and make insensitive demands!"

"Erik, you're blowing this way out of proportion. All I did—"

"Am I? I thought you were different, but in the end, you betrayed my trust just like everyone else."

My head reared up. "How can you say that? I am different!" Hurt welled up inside me. "How is asking you to show me betraying your trust?"

"You shouldn't have asked."

"Would you have ever felt comfortable enough to show me if I hadn't?"

He averted his gaze to the floor.

"I see." If I had been thinking clearly, I would have immediately backed down and respected his answer and apologized for violating his privacy, but his unfounded accusations had wounded my pride and the tequila shots were making me angry and reckless. So instead of trying to sympathize with his reasoning, I channeled all my pain into self-righteous indignation. "So, after everything we've been through together, everything that I've said and done to prove to you that I don't care what you look like, none of that matters? In all these months I haven't once commented on it or pushed you or done anything to make you feel uncomfortable. All I did was ask! Ask! Like a civilized person. I didn't just rip your mask off your face without your permission like somebody else we know."

"If I were you," Erik hissed in a voice that had taken on a razor-sharp edge, "I would consider my next words very carefully."

My eyes grew as big as saucers at his unspoken threat.

"Or what?" I snapped. "You'll unleash your vengeance upon me? Make me pay like everyone else who's dared to cross the all-mighty Opera Ghost?"

I knew the moment the words had left my lips that I'd crossed the line, but it was too late. The damage had been done. Erik moved like lightning. Before I could say anything else, he lunged forward and caught me by the shoulders, dragging me off the couch until I was standing right in front of him.

"How dare you!" he snarled, digging his long fingers into my arms. "How dare you even insinuate that I'd be capable of hurting you!"

"Don't touch me!" I screamed wildly. I broke free of his grasp and slammed my hands against the hard wall of his chest, forcefully shoving him back. "Stay away from me. I don't want anything to do with you right now!"

He staggered backward and when his eyes finally met mine, they were filled with resentment and hate. "Gladly."

My throat tightened and my vision clouded with tears. I sucked in a shaky breath. I wasn't going to cry. I wasn't going to let him see me cry. I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction.

"Fine. I'll make it easy for you. Since you can't leave, I will!"

Grabbing my phone and car keys from the end table, I spun around and stormed out, slamming the door behind me.

XXX

The sound of the door slamming shut reverberated around the small room like a pistol shot. The force of the vibration knocked one of the decorative pictures off the wall. It landed on the corner of the frame and then fell face down, shattering the glass into dozens of pieces. I could only stare at the destruction she'd left in her wake, my body still trembling with a sickening combination of fear and heartache and fury.

She hadn't unmasked me, but she may as well have. With a single, ill-conceived request she had destroyed the months of carefully cultivated trust and rapport that had slowly developed between us. One devastating second was all it took for my carefully constructed world to fall apart. Things would never be the same between us again.

Damn her! Damn her all the hell!

I snatched my copy of Faust off table and hurled it across the room. It struck the wall on the far side and fell to the floor with a dull thud. Sinking to my knees, I bowed my head and buried my fingers in my hair. "Why, Christine?" I moaned. "Why?"