Page 31 of Angel's Kiss
“I never knew,” Raoul whispered. “Christine, I’m sorry.” She might have been moved by the contrition in his handsome face had a new, darker idea not occurred to her.
“Philippe and Sabine never liked me. And you said you told them the truth about Papa and now some reporter knows it. Do you think that they told someone?” Raoul looked absolutely stricken by the idea, which was not promising. “Raoul, what is it?”
“I saw Philippe with that woman. I don’t know what they were up to. But I’ll ask him and I’ll go to the managers too and make it right, I swear.”
It was so easy to talk to Raoul. He withheld nothing, neither the truth nor his heart.
“It’s alright. You needn’t worry for me.” Christine glanced out the café window towards the sunset.La Grenouillewas nicer than she was used to, but it was still a typical café with an awning over the sidewalk and windows that would be open in the summer.
“It’s getting late. Do you think she’s actually coming?” Raoul asked. “I’m happy to wait with you. Or escort you home. I wouldn’t want you wandering around in the dark.”
Christine suppressed a laugh. If only he knew how Christine might find herself lost in the darkest reaches of Paris tonight. Though the idea of groveling back to Erik after berating him earlier was as unappealing as going back to the flat she barely thought of as home. She didn’t want to face Adèle right now either. Maybe Julianne would take her in for the evening.
“Christine?”
Raoul was still waiting for her to answer, she realized. “I’ll be fine. I can take care of myself.”
“You can, of course, but you don’t need to when I’m here.” Raoul said it with a tender smile, taking her hand across the table as he did. Christine felt so many things it was dizzying: annoyance and flattery, longing and guilt, all at once.
“Your family will be wondering where you are,” Christine muttered, withdrawing her hand. The best way to deal with these feelings was simply not to go anywhere near them. That seemed to be Erik’s strategy.
Raoul scowled playfully but nodded as he retrieved his coat and hat. Christine nearly sighed in relief before he turned to her again, his brown eyes gleaming with hope as bright as his smile. “When will I see you again?”
“What?”
“A good suitor never leaves his lady without the promise of another meeting, that’s what Philippe says, though he put it differently. And Iamyour suitor now, you can’t deny it.” He took her hand again, such an easy gesture. His hand was soft, or at least softer than Erik’s, though there were callouses from his days at sea. And it was so warm. Just like his arms had been when he’d held her today. She could still feel that solid embrace, still smell the starch of his shirt mixed with soap and skin.
“I don’t know,” Christine stammered.
“I have to go to the performance tomorrow, unfortunately. I’ll boo Carlotta if you like,” Raoul went on. “But I’ll call on you the day after perhaps? Or maybe I’ll see you there.”
“Raoul, I’m not sure if I—”
“And I want you to tell him, whoever this other man is, your teacher or suitor or whatever, that he has a rival who will not be easily dissuaded.”
“I doubt that will be helpful,” Christine muttered. God help her if her suitors met. And of course it was Raoul who had convinced her (once again, without meaning to) that Erik was more of a suitor than she had assumed.
“I hope next time I see you it is under better circumstances, no more of this finding you on the street in distress,” Raoul said, squeezing her hand. “I won’t stand for it.”
“I make no promises.”
Raoul grinned again before, to Christine’s shock, pressing a chaste kiss to her hand that made her heart leap. “Goodbye, my dear Christine,” Raoul said and did not wait for her to reply before exiting the café with a spring in his step. And leaving Christine cursedly alone with her thoughts.
She was an idiot in every way, she berated herself as she let her head fall into her hands, the right still warmer than the left from Raoul’s grasp. Somehow, she had become entangled with not one, but two men who could not be more different. Raoul was the light of summer, of days on rocky beaches or rolling green hills. He was safe and good and stable. Open and honest.
Erik was fire on a dark winter’s night. He was moonlight and magic songs that entranced and entrapped. He was a fascinating genius and a maddening mystery. She should run now, while she had the chance. But she knew she wouldn’t. If Erik asked her to – if he called to her again in his angel’s voice – she would return. Part of her hated that truth, the same part that wanted to stay safe in the sunny embrace of Raoul de Chagny. And part of her wanted nothing more than for Erik to use that power to its fullest extent and end her indecision.
Christine looked up after what felt like forever. The sky was entirely dark, and the maître d’ was giving her dark looks. The shame and hurt of earlier returned in full force, accompanied by a healthy dose of anger. It had been a trick. Rehearsal was long over, and Carlotta had sent her to sit in suspense for hours only to be abandoned again. A final slap in the face.
Christine rose from the table and exited into the street, pulling the dark cloak close around her shoulders. Maybe this was the only way Erik would ever embrace her.Why would you want that?The voice in her head that asked sounded suspiciously like the man in question.
In protest, Christine turned resolutely towards her flat and not the Opera. A night at home in her own bed would do her good. She stumbled when a body blocked her.
“Ah, Mademoiselle Daaé.” Once again it was LeDoux who interrupted Christine and stood in her way. “We are so glad to have caught you.”
“We? Where’s your mistress?” Christine demanded, following a nod from LeDoux. There was a carriage parked further down, blocking an alley next to the café.
“The Signora does not wish to make a scene or be mobbed by her admirers. Please come this way,” LeDoux said. Every hair on the back of Christine’s neck stood at attention, anxiety trembling in her bones. She could simply walk away... No. She had to do this. “Here we are.”
