A/N My deepest apologies to the faithful readers who have been wondering if this is yet another 'abandoned' piece of fan fiction. As I have stated before, I have every intention of finishing this story!
I realize that the "Real Life" card gets overplayed but ... suffice to say, things may now be settling down enough that I can get some serious work done on both DoS and WSS.
And so, this chapter is dedicated to my readers. Thank you!
Finally, much appreciation to my betas, Mandy the O and Musique et Amour, who are no strangers to RL issues themselves!
He started, dumbfounded, and gaped at her. "What … what did you say?"
"I asked you if you …" averting her eyes from his, she gulped then continued; "...were responsible for starting the fire that led to your accident."
He laughed bitterly. "Oh, so that's why you've been so distant – you truly believe I'm a monster. It must have terrified you, thinking how vulnerable you were at your Spoleto debut." "So why are you asking me now?" he questioned, narrowing his eyes. "You obviously believe I did."
Christine flushed. "No, actually Erik, I could not believe you did." He shook his head in bitter disbelief and began to move away. "Wait, please! The reason I've been avoiding you is … I saw you that night in London. I saw you had a beautiful woman on your arm, and I was jealous. I knew I couldn't compete …" voice trailing off, she turned around and stared sightlessly, bracing herself for his final rejection. When she did not hear his door sliding closed, she risked a glance at him.
He was frozen as he tried to marshal his emotions. Relief, disbelief, annoyance, and anger all warred with each other. Walk inside, Erik, and close the door. Draw the drapes, and pretend she isn't out here. He was amazed as she to hear the words coming out of his mouth; "You were jealous of … Cat?" he asked incredulously.
"Is that really so hard to believe, Erik? She was your student, she's a famous opera star, she's drop-dead gorgeous, and she was on your arm at a fabulous London gala. What was I supposed to think? I mean, you left me this cryptic note …"
"I was doing a favor for a friend. Kyle was at Cat's debut, and he never once doubted my innocence. Someone may have deliberately set that fire, but it wasn't me. He is trying to get a new act off the ground, and called everyone he knew, begging us to attend his gala. Cat learned that I was going to attend, and she insisted on accompanying me. The two of them," he stopped and shook his head again, "...are determined to prove my innocence, thus the show of public support."
Feeling more ashamed of herself than ever, Christine murmured, "I'm sorry, Erik. I didn't know …"
"No, you didn't. And you jumped to conclusions and made decisions without bothering to come to me." Shaking his head again, he resumed walking to the door. "But, even worse, Christine, is your refusal to be seen in public with me. Cat, who has reasons to shun me, openly embraces me. You, on the other hand …"
"Excuse me? When, exactly, have I refused to be seen in public with you? Who snubbed me at my debut … when it was your idea, no less! But, did you bother to come see me? To give even a small show of support? No – you ran to … Cat. Your wildly successful and beautiful protégé!"
He stared at her in disbelief. "First of all," he began through clenched teeth, "you were insulted when I asked you to share my home with me. Let me finish! Then, you left me a note telling me that you were done with your music lessons. And now you're acting like the injured party. Oh, wait. That's right, I forgot. Playing the victim is a role you relish." Turning, he walked back into his suite. Raising his hand to pull the door closed, he moved to the side as she came storming in behind him.
"Just what do you think walking away from me is going to solve?" she demanded angrily. "Is this what you would have done the first time we argued after I moved in with you? Or, is it just that you aren't interested in working this out?"
"We cannot work this out, as you so succinctly put it, until and unless you are willing to be honest with me."
"I am being honest! I don't know what else you want from me."
"The truth, Christine," he said as he closed the door. "All I've ever wanted from you is the courtesy of a direct and truthful answer."
Folding her arms around herself, she said, "All right, I'm ready. What do you want to know?"
"Why did you reject me when I asked you to share my house in Savannah? I know it wasn't because the house wasn't to your liking."
"That's true, Erik. I fell in love with that house, and I couldn't help but imagine …" biting her lip, she turned away from him, suddenly mortified at how much she was revealing.
"Come here, Christine," he said in a deceptively gentle voice. Surprised by the sudden change in his demeanor, she walked back to the door. He quickly rounded on her and pressed her against the glass. "What did you imagine, Christine?" he demanded as he placed his hands on the window on either side of her head.
"Erik, stop. I can't … think. I can't even breathe." His masked face swam in her vision as his eyes held hers.
"I'm waiting for your answer, Christine."
"Well, you already think so little of me, you may as well have the final laugh," she said bitterly. "I couldn't help but imagine me living there, as your wife, with your children. I couldn't help but imagine the small bedroom next to ours as a nursery." Trying to steel herself against the rejection she knew was coming, her eyes closed. I will not cry, I will not cry, I will not cry, she chanted silently to herself as the silence stretched on.
"And you think I would laugh at you for that?" He relaxed slightly and moving one hand to her chin, he gently raised her face to his. "Look at me, Christine. You are the first woman who has ever been to my home. I had your suite furnished and decorated with you in mind. No other woman has ever been in there. The clothes that you found in your closet were purchased for you." Sighing, he released her chin and pulled her into a tighter embrace. "It has always been, in the past, that the woman pushes for more than I am willing to give. This is a new experience for me. I should have realized that you would not understand the importance behind my gestures."
"What are you saying, Erik?"
"You are mine. I do not wish to live without you."
Sudden fury coursed through her. "So … you think you … own me?" she asked, her voice choked with rage. Pushing against him, she tried to break free of his embrace.
"No more than you own me, Christine. Or, should I say, no less." He chuckled suddenly as she slumped back, her anger spent.
"So, now what?"
"It is quite simple. Rather than return to Charleston at the end of the summer, you will move into my house in Savannah," pausing, he waited for her reaction, and laughed at her squeal of surprise.
"We did it? They picked us? RS&A won the contract?"
"You did it," Erik corrected her quietly. "And the world will soon know that you were the brilliant designer of the latest planned community."
"But, but I'm just an intern," she protested, "and the others at RS&A won't be pleased."
He quirked a brow, and she scowled. "Oh, that's right," she mumbled, "you don't care what other people think."
"Nor should you," he answered easily. "You are a promising young architect. Your vision is responsible for Charles Towne Village far surpassing the city's expectations. You can claim the Savannah project as your own …"
"No! Don't you understand, Erik? I have to work with those people! I'm the one they are going to whisper about. I'm the one who will hear the sly innuendos. I'm the one …"
Erik silenced her with a shrug. "Professional jealousy is rampant everywhere, Christine. You must learn to ignore what other people say about you. You're not responsible for their opinion of you. You and I both know the truth, and that should be enough."
Still unconvinced, Christine merely shook her head. "I don't know, Erik. You make it sound so simple."
"Look at me, Christine. Look at me! Do you really think I don't know what you're afraid of? Do you have any idea …"
"I'm so sorry, Erik," she interrupted him. "I … I wasn't thinking. I can't imagine how difficult the years since the accident have been for you."
"And I forget how young you really are," he said with a sigh.
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Christine woke slowly, luxuriating in the feel of Erik's arms wrapped around her, keeping her pressed close to him. Mm…, she thought lazily, if I was a cat, I'd be purring …
Erik knew the moment she awoke, and relaxed his hold slightly. "Good morning, love," he murmured, relieved that the tension he was feeling was not revealed in his voice. Christine twisted in his arms, turning so that she faced him.
"Good morning, love," she laughed as she dodged his kiss. "Give me a moment and I'll be right back," she continued as she began to pull away from him. Flushing slightly, she mumbled something about needing to use the bathroom.
Pressing his eyes closed, he hadn't realized he'd been holding his breath until it left him with a whoosh. Nodding, he released his hold on her and watched with quiet satisfaction as she walked away from his bed. Lying in bed, he listened to the muffled sound of water running as Christine took care of her morning ablutions.
Erik pressed a kiss to her forehead as she slipped back into his arms. When he pressed her beneath him and took her once more, he felt the acknowledgement of their love for one another in every sigh and shift of her body.
"Christine, we need to discuss this," Erik announced one morning a few days later.
"Hmmm?" she asked. "Discuss what?"
"The press releases concerning Colonial Park Village."
"What's to discuss? RS&A was awarded the contract – can't you re-use the PR from the Charles Towne Village project?"
"Colonial Park Village was your brainchild, and I intend for the world to know that."
"No, Erik. I was just doing my job …"
"A job which is well-done merits commendation."
"You know, and that's enough for me. I don't need public accolades."
"Perhaps not. But, a press release, properly worded, may go a long way in preventing the gossip that you fear."
Shaking her head, Christine disagreed. "Giving me public credit is only going to make things worse, Erik. Please, announce the new project as you would any other."
"You are no longer concerned about what people will think?"
"Unfortunately, where my professional life is concerned, I will probably always be concerned about what other people think. If you give me public acclaim, other employees at RS&A are going to resent me. I guess I would rather have to deal with sly innuendos from the gossip-mongers than with jealous co-workers."
"If you are certain …"
"I am," she answered with a smile. "RS&A is one of the best architectural firms in the country; I do not want to cause discord in the ranks."
"Many more projects like these, and you won't be able to stop the public acclaim," he predicted.
"I won't pretend I don't want that, Erik. What professional doesn't want to be recognized for excellence in their field? But, I'm not seeking it out, and I don't want my 'success' to be at RS&A's expense."
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Erik continued to work on the opera she inspired. Kyle recommended a young lyricist, and he and Erik spent long hours on the libretto. Christine found herself humming snatches of the music as she moved through her day. Erik did not want her working on the Colonial Park project until they returned to Savannah, so she worked on decorating the house they would share.
At Patrick O'Donnell's recommendation, she contacted an interior design house which specialized in restoring historic Savannah homes. Christine and Babs Schmidt hit it off instantly. After a brief consultation with Erik, who assured her that he trusted her instincts, Christine selected an elegant color palette of subtle golds and muted reds for the public areas of the house. She was more whimsical on the second floor, and decorated one bedroom in a creamy yellow, another in a soft sage, and the third in blue. She could not, however, decide what she wanted for the third floor master suite.
Babs suggested a creamy white room in which the linens were highlighted. She sent Christine samples of raw silk in jewel tones, but Christine did not like the stark contrast. Babs also saw the possibility for a nursery on the third floor, and suggested a pastel color palette for the smaller bedroom.
Christine was torn. She respected Babs abilities, and loved the ideas she presented for the other floors of the house, but she hated the third floor. Erik watched with growing amusement as Christine spent hours online, searching for the perfect master suite. "It's only paint," he reminded her from time to time. "It's not a lifelong commitment. If you don't like it, we can change it."
Christine knew that he was ostensibly talking about the color scheme, but his words "not a lifelong commitment" chilled her, and she wrapped her arms protectively around herself. Nodding finally, she emailed Babs and told her she wanted the third floor to echo the public rooms. Dull golds and muted reds would lend a sophisticated air to the room, and hopefully help her to remember there was no commitment.