Chapter 103 Christianna
Chapter one hundred three
Christianna
Erik’s hand at my lower back burns through my blouse as we step into the elegant restaurant. My other hand is still laced with Remy’s, and I’m grateful it isn’t sweating, given how fast my heart is racing.
We wind our way to a four-top in the courtyard, Ruiz settling at a small table just behind us. We’re tucked into a corner, warmth spilling from the heaters, the fronds of potted palms shifting gently overhead.
Erik pulls out my chair, and I take in the table, already set with a charcuterie board.
Remy’s eyes crinkle as he smiles at me from the seat beside mine. “I wanted you to have something, since you were starving.”
I blink rapidly, caught off guard by the simple thoughtfulness of it.
I focus on the meat and cheeses in front of me and pick up a small square to nibble on. The sharp flavor bursts across my taste buds, and I laugh, a little giddy from the attention and the simple fact that I feel relaxed.
“I want to thank you both,” I say, my gaze swiveling as I take everything in. “This has been a wonderful night.” I smile. “A perfect first date.”
“It’s just starting,” Remy says. “It gets better from here.”
“I wouldn’t know,” I admit. “I haven’t really been on a date before.”
“You’re in good company, then,” Erik says, glancing at the menu. “I’ve never been on one either.”
We all settle back into our chairs.
Remy orders a Cab Franc for the table, and I feel water pool in my mouth. He notices everything, right down to my wine preference.
I sigh and shift slightly in my chair, the realization warming something low and unfamiliar.
I'm pulled from my thoughts when Remy speaks again, just after the waiter leaves
Conversation flows with surprising ease. Erik updates me on how the musical is coming along. He has the first two acts written, and while I’ve heard most of the music already, I’m still amazed at how he managed it.
“I’m still in awe that you were able to put voice to the songs the Dark Angel played for you,” I tell him.
His eyes meet mine. “It has been the easiest musical I’ve ever written. Your music is passionate and full of emotion. I only put words to it, and the story followed. I plan on giving you credit, of course.”
I choke on my wine. “Oh no, that’s not necessary.”
He holds my gaze until I stop spluttering, then deliberately sets his knife and fork aside and wipes his mouth with his napkin.
“It is your music,” he says calmly. “You deserve credit. It’s earned, not gifted. Had it not been for you, I would still be circling ideas instead of writing.”
He ignores my shaking head.
“Christianna,” he adds evenly, “would you have me accused of plagiarizing your work?”
“No, of course not. I just… I don’t need or want the recognition.”
Erik studies me for a moment. “You don’t feel worthy of it yet. You will.” He pauses. “But regardless, it isn’t mine to take credit for.” He turns back to his steak.
I lift my wine glass and drain it.
Remy reaches over and squeezes my hand. “There are ways around it, if you need.”
I bite my lip and look at him. Dinner is mostly finished now, plates pushed back, the table quieting.
“I think before we go any further,” I say carefully, “I need to tell you everything.” I draw a breath. “I want honesty between us. And while it’s painful, I’m starting to realize some of that pain exists because I didn’t do more to protect myself.”
Remy’s gaze holds mine. “Only when you’re ready.”
“I am. I need to be.” I swallow. “And if you change your mind about me… well, Ruiz and I can Uber home.”
Erik finishes chewing his last bite of steak before answering. “There will be no Uber. There isn’t anything you can tell us that will change our minds.” His voice is steady. “What it can do is help us understand how to support you. What your triggers are.”
The server arrives with another bottle of wine, and I take the moment to brace myself. When we’re alone again, I draw a deep breath.
“After Paw died, I was placed in foster care. It wasn’t ideal.” I give Remy a small, wan smile. “Noise wasn’t permitted. So no more singing. Being proper and modestly dressed was required, along with good grades and a spotless house. Children were to be seen and not heard.”
My fingers twist the cloth napkin in my lap. “I learned to close down. To not be myself.”
“When I was fourteen, I met Meg. She started inviting me to her house after school. Her mom got me violin lessons. I didn’t want to sing anymore. That part of my life felt gone.” I pause. “She also put me in dance. I liked it. I was passable, not great.”
I inhale slowly. “I loved being there. Her mother wasn’t affectionate, but she cared. My foster parents didn’t mind me being gone, as long as they kept getting the check.”
I take another breath. “I got into college on scholarship. Full tuition. Meal plan. I still worked part time for incidentals, but it was manageable.”
My throat tightens. “STD class was mandatory.” I swallow. “And while I know now that it was rape…” My voice drops, and both men lean in without realizing it. “It took me a long time to understand that.”
“I had to maintain a 3.85 GPA to keep my scholarship. He told me he’d fail me if I didn’t agree.” I scoff softly. “Agree. Like I had a choice. And somehow that made it worse, because it felt like I was choosing it.”
My eyes burn. “If I said okay, it couldn’t be rape. That’s what I told myself.”
Remy moves his chair closer. Erik’s breathing has gone tight and uneven. When Remy reaches up to wipe my cheek, I realize tears are already falling.
“I know better now,” I whisper. “But I didn’t then. I didn’t see another option. So I did what I needed to make him happy. I went to his ‘tutoring.’”
My throat tightens. “I was a virgin. I wasn’t on birth control.” I swallow hard. “I got pregnant.”
“We were working on a performance at the Opera House. He was furious. He blamed me.” I scoff bitterly. “Because I was the problem in his world. He wanted me to get an abortion. Shortly after, he was found hanging. Everyone assumed it was the Dark Angel.”
Erik starts to speak, but I lift my hand. “Please. I need to get through this.”
“His mother knew about his tendencies. Apparently, she hired a private investigator to protect their family name.” I draw a shaky breath. “They approached me after his death. Offered a settlement if I never made a claim against the estate. He was married. He had ‘real’ children.”
My chest tightens. “I took the money because I was going to need it to raise my little angel.”
I sniff, my breath hitching as my voice fractures.
“Only she didn’t make it. I lost her at seven months.” Tears spill freely now. “I loved her so much. It wasn’t her fault.”
Erik stands abruptly and lifts me into his arms before sitting again, settling me in his lap as if there is nowhere else I could possibly belong.
“It was not your fault either,” he says, his voice low and tightly controlled.
I wipe at my face and nod. “I know. In my head, I know. Years of therapy.” I blink back the tears and look at him. “But sometimes it still feels like I was complicit. Like I did something wrong.”
My voice steadies as I continue. “That’s why I’m so firm about consent. In everything. I can’t, I won’t be made to feel pressured.” I swallow. “It makes me feel powerless, and that’s when I retreat. When I disappear.”
Remy presses my refilled wine glass into my hand and bends to place a gentle kiss against my brow. My heart somersaults.
“You are a miracle,” he says quietly. “In your strength. In your talent. In your resilience. Everything you just told us only confirms it.”
I manage a small smile. “You aren’t ready to run for the hills?”
Erik’s arms tighten around me. “I don’t do anything I don’t want to.” His voice is steady. “And what I want is to be here with you. You understand me.”
He pauses, just enough to be deliberate. “How you became this person is tragic. But from tragedy blooms the greatest things. Operas. Love.” His gaze holds mine. “You are blooming now.”