Page 104 of Our Strange Duet

“You’re wrong about everything. I don’t want any of this!”

Her laugh was bitter and barbed. “I don’t see you turning away the attention. The managers are falling over themselves to elevate you—I even heard Monsieur André wonder if you’d need a nicer dressing room—and you had that enormous bauble around your neck on New Year’s. Don’t think me so stupid that I didn’t know it was an engagement ring. Do you really think a vicomte would have noticed you all the way in the back of the corps? Of course not!”

Meg’s words, designed to tear into my heart, glanced off me like water off a duck’s back. I knew she was upset—rightly so—but she was taking it out on the wrong person. It made everything I needed to do and say so much easier.

“I’m not singing the role,” I said, cool and measured. “Aminta, in Don Juan Triumphant. I’m not going to be a part of it.”

She snorted. “Of course you are. How could you turn it down? The lead role. Everyone looking at you. Everyone in awe of the great Christine Daaé. ‘Isn’t she marvelous? Isn’t she such a wonder?’ ” she minced, putting on airs. “It’s everything you wanted.”

“It was,” I agreed. “But not anymore. I’m not singing it. I’m not singing anything, ever again.”

Her look of shock was painful to behold. “What? Why?”

“Because of him! Because just a few hours ago, he attacked and tried to kill Raoul.”

Her bag fell from her hands. “What do you mean?”

I shook my head. “I’d gone to the cemetery to visit Father’s grave, and—it’s not important, only…You don’t know the whole story, Meg. You don’t know who he truly is, nor what he’s capable of. He claimed to be an angel, but an angel wouldn’t do any of the things he’s done. Think about it.”

“Tell me,” she insisted.

I wanted to. I wanted to take my best friend’s hands and explain everything. There was so much that had happened. There was so much that she didn’t know. I couldn’t remember when things had changed between us, when we’d stopped sharing all of our lives with each other. I hated the secrets I’d kept from her. My music lessons…the night I’d gone with Erik to his world beneath the opera…Raoul’s proposal…my impending retirement…I wanted to spread them all out before her, leaving nothing behind.

But I was so tired.

So tired, and dangerously close to tears.

And there was still something I had to do before I could rest.

“I will,” I promised. “One day, I swear I will, Meg.”

“I miss you,” she admitted softly, the fight suddenly deserting her. She looked as hollowed out as I felt.

“I miss you too.”

I started to embrace her, but the kettle on the stove began to whistle. Its sharply pitched note made us both wince.

“Tea?”

Meg reached out and touched my cheek. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you look terrible, Christine. You should…you should rest.”

“No, I want to…” I began, but she’d already picked up her purse.

“Rest,” she said with a finality so absolute I couldn’t tell what she was thinking or if my words had made any impact on her.

“Meg…you believe me, don’t you?”

My heart cracked when I realized I couldn’t decipher her smile. It was as though I was looking at a complete stranger, not the friend I’d once considered as close as a sister.

“I’ll see you later, Christine,” she said, already at the door before I could stop her. “Sometime.”

After she’d gone, I sat on the settee for a long while, motionless with terror, unable to rest.

When I’d left Raoul’s town house, I’d been ready to write my resignation. I’d mentally prepared all the words and phrases I’d use. I’d imagined signing my name to it and casting my aspirations and every connection to the Opéra Populaire aside.

I was going to do it to save Raoul.

I was going to do it to save myself.