Page 87 of Promise and Punishment

“Raoul the better choice?” she questioned, humming to herself. “I’m not too sure about that. I don’t think it’s that simple.”

“You don’t think so? Even after all they shared in common?”

“Well, the Phantom and Christine shared a lot together too, you know?”

“I know, but Raoul and Christine have their childhood memories to bond over. Do you think she could have been truly happy with the Phantom?”

“I think it’s possible. They share a bond that others don’t understand. He helped Christine grow as a person, he guided her to chase her dream, making it all possible.”

“Is that all?” I asked.

“No… there’s more of course. He’s important. Not a parent, but older, wiser, more persistent.” She traced her hesitation into my hair, a distinct figure-eight, like the infinity I’d love her for.

“Persistent or stalking?”

“Stalking is harsh. He was there for her, an angel, a father figure when she needed one the most.” I didn’t comment right away, sensitive to the mention of a father figure, especially in the context of Gemma’s life. My knuckle grazed the outside of her calf, hoping to relax her as much as she relaxed me.

“Is that what someone needs in order to feel true love?” I asked, hoping for a clue.

“I don’t know anymore,” she answered.

“What about his secrets? Do you think it would be worth it for Christine, dealing with a man in a mask, one who has hidden his ugliness from the world?”

“I think so. We all hide something we find ugly about ourselves… and who knows? Sometimes that ugliness is what attracts us to others.”

“Maybe,” I countered. “Or perhaps the ugliness is just so familiar that it starts to feel safe. But isn’t that fake? Should Christine just live the rest of her life in the sewers below the opera house, just because of what the Phantom provided? Or is it better for her to takeonemore lesson from him, growonelast time, and live the life that we know she deserves?”

“Depends on how she views his ugliness.”

“How so?”

“Well, for starters, the Phantom is totally misunderstood. I think we’re drawn to the shock value he provides, but underneath the mask is something else.”

“Then what is he?”

She hesitated. “A man, someone who’s capable of love…true love.”Gemma’s stance made me irrationally weak, the wordlovea galvanizing trigger to kiss her.

“And Raoul?” I asked. “What about his love? He would die for Christine.”

Gemma let go of my hair, her soothing touch now absent from my scalp as she leaned back onto her hands. “Maybe Raoul would die for Christine, but the Phantom wouldkillfor her.”

Immediately, I almost responded, my words like instinctual vomit, that I could barely hold onto.I’d kill for you too. I’d die and live, breathe and see, do and be anything I needed to be in order to have you, to hold you, to keep you forever.

“And if you were Christine?” I squinted up at her face. “Who would you pick, Gemma?” My cheek still laid along her thigh, my lips so near her flesh that I could kiss it, and I would, I’d show worship to a place where I was thankful to rest.

“I don’t know. That’s a hard question, but I think I would pick—” Gemma’s words were interrupted, averted to the rolling wheels of a large suitcase.

“If it isn’t my favorite non-couple!” Tommy—fucking—Romero walked through the back gate, shooting a wide smile that made Gemma scream.

“Oh my god, Tommy!” Gemma and I were completely stunned, unsure of what he was even doing here. He sauntered by, lifting the shades of his large Ray-Bans to give us a view of his goofy wink.

“What are you doing here?” I asked surprised, annoyed with his timing.

“He invited me,” Tommy pointed at my dad, who came out with—what I assumed was—one of Camilla’s newly produced home-made margaritas. He took a long sip, before starting to choke.

“Tommy?” Dad practically barked. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Youinvited me, sir.” Tommy repeated, his smile dropping. “Remember? Last night?” Dad shrugged until Tommy scoffed, “You don’t remember calling me, Mr. Jones?”

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