Chapter74-The Viscount's Dilemma-1

Braden's POV
The kitchen had always been my sanctuary.
Where Dorian found solace in drama and Ryan in physicality, I discovered peace in the methodical precision of cooking. These rituals provided structure amid chaos, control within uncertainty—something I desperately needed five days before our London audition.
My hands betrayed the slightest tremor as I measured coffee into the French press. The Phantom audition wasn't merely another role; it represented a pivot point, a door opening to a life I'd not fully allowed myself to imagine.
"Are you planning to stare at that coffee all morning, or might some of us partake eventually?"
Nadia leaned against the doorframe, wrapped in that threadbare blue robe she refused to replace. Her hair tumbled in sleep-mussed waves, and the morning light caught gold flecks in her eyes. Something constricted in my chest.
"Just making sure the water temperature is exact. Eighty-eight degrees Celsius."
"Uh-huh." She smiled knowingly. "And it has nothing to do with overthinking the audition?"
"Absolutely not."
"Your left eye is twitching."
I exhaled, abandoning the pretense. "Is it that obvious?"
"Only to someone who knows you." She crossed the kitchen and took the French press from my hands, her fingers brushing mine. "Let me do this."
I relinquished control, watching her work. In the year since she'd entered our lives, she'd learned the geography of this house as thoroughly as any of us. Sometimes I had to remind myself she hadn't always been here.
"I've been thinking about the audition," she said, pressing the plunger down with careful pressure. "About Raoul."
"What about him?"
"You don't seem particularly excited to play him." She glanced at me while reaching for mugs. "Every time we rehearse, you light up when playing the piano for Dorian's Phantom or coaching me through Christine's arias, but when it's time for your part..."
"Raoul isn't the most complex character," I offered.
"Neither is Christine, technically. But I'm still finding depths in her."
I frowned slightly. She wasn't wrong. My approach to Raoul had been professional but lacked the passion Dorian brought to the Phantom or Nadia to Christine.
"Maybe I've always related more to the Phantom," I admitted. "The outsider. The artist who watches from the shadows."
She poured coffee, adding precisely one sugar to mine. "You? The Broadway darling with the trust fund and the brownstone? I'm not sure the outsider label fits."
There was no malice in her tone, only gentle teasing, but it struck a nerve. How could I explain that success had only intensified my sense of fraudulence? That each achievement arrived wrapped in the certainty it would be my last?
"Appearances can be deceptive," I said instead. "We all wear masks of some sort."
"Very Phantom-appropriate philosophy." She studied me over her cup. "But Raoul is essential. Without him, there's no choice for Christine. No triangle. No resolution."
"I know. And I'll deliver what's required. I always do."
"That's not what I'm concerned about." Nadia set her coffee down, moving closer. "You're an exceptional performer, Braden. But London is a major commitment. If your heart isn't in this role..."
I met her gaze directly. "My heart is in this opportunity. For all three of us."
She nodded, though something in her expression suggested she wasn't entirely convinced. Before she could press further, Dorian entered, already impeccably dressed.
"Good morning, artistes. I see coffee has been prepared." He paused, looking between us. "Have I interrupted something profound?"
"Just discussing Braden's approach to Raoul," Nadia replied.
"Ah, yes. Our reluctant viscount." Dorian helped himself to coffee. "I've been contemplating that myself. In some productions, Raoul is portrayed with more complexity—less the one-dimensional hero and more a man navigating societal expectations while genuinely trying to protect someone he loves."
"I'm aware of the interpretative possibilities," I said, perhaps more curtly than intended.
Dorian exchanged a glance with Nadia. "Touched a nerve, have we?"
"No. I appreciate the input. I just need to find my own connection to him."
"Of course you do." Dorian sipped his coffee. "Perhaps today's rehearsal could focus on your pieces? We've spent considerable time on the Phantom-Christine dynamic."
The thought of being the center of attention sent a ripple of anxiety through me. I'd been content directing focus to Nadia and Dorian, playing the supporting role I'd grown comfortable inhabiting in our household.
"That's a good idea," I conceded. "I should probably warm up properly first."
"Take the library," Dorian offered. "The acoustics are divine, as Andy has so thoughtfully ensured."
Andy appeared in the doorway, already dressed for the day. His gaze moved from Dorian to Nadia, then settled on me with quiet assessment.
"Morning strategy session?" he asked, helping himself to coffee.
"Braden's having an existential crisis about playing Raoul," Dorian supplied.
"I am not having an existential crisis. I'm simply considering interpretative approaches."
Andy nodded thoughtfully. Of all of us, he possessed the most observant eye, noticing details others missed.
"Raoul represents order," he said after a moment. "Structure. The conventional path. The Phantom is chaos, passion, artistic brilliance that refuses constraint. They're opposing forces vying for Christine's soul."
"That's reductively binary," Dorian objected. "The Phantom also creates meticulous order, and Raoul's love certainly contains passion."
"True," Andy acknowledged. "But at their core, they represent different life paths for Christine. Security versus risk. Conformity versus artistic fulfillment."
"You're describing the standard interpretation," I said, finding my thoughts clarifying as I spoke. "But what if Raoul isn't merely offering the safe choice? What if he genuinely sees a future where Christine can have both love and artistic fulfillment? Where she doesn't have to surrender her dreams to be with him?"
Something shifted in the kitchen's atmosphere. Nadia watched me with renewed interest, while Dorian's expression turned speculative.
"That's actually quite compelling," Dorian conceded. "The viscount who defies aristocratic expectation to support his wife's artistic ambitions."
"And it gives Christine's choice more weight," Nadia added. "She's not just choosing safety over passion. She's choosing healthy love that nurtures her gifts over obsession that would ultimately consume her."
I felt a spark of genuine excitement. This interpretation resonated with something authentic in me—something I understood about loving someone enough to want their fulfillment even if it didn't center you.
"Yes, exactly. Raoul's love isn't possessive like the Phantom's. He wants Christine to shine for her own sake, not as a reflection of himself."
Andy smiled slightly. "And suddenly you look interested in playing him."
I realized he was right. "I suppose I needed to find my own way into his perspective."
"As any good actor must," Dorian said.
He was interrupted by Ryan thundering down the stairs. He burst into the kitchen, still pulling a t-shirt over his head.
"Why didn't anyone wake me? I have that interview prep session at ten."
"It's only eight-fifteen," Andy pointed out. "And you were up late."
"How do you know I was up late?"
"Because I heard you come in at two AM."
"Stalker."
"Light sleeper."
I watched their exchange with a mixture of fondness and melancholy. These small interactions were part of the fabric of our lives. How would our household function with three of us potentially in London? Would the connections fray across the distance?
"Wait, what interview?" Nadia asked, looking between Ryan and Andy.
Ryan froze, then shot an accusing glance at Dorian. "You didn't tell them?"
"I assumed you would prefer to share your own news," Dorian replied smoothly.
"What news?" Nadia pressed.
Ryan sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I have an interview for a lighting director position. With the Hamilton European tour."
Nadia's eyes widened. "European? As in..."
"As in London for three months, yes. If I get it. Which is a big if."
"But you'd be there when we are," Nadia said, her voice lifting with excitement. "If we get cast."
"Potentially." Ryan shrugged with deliberate casualness, though I could see the tension in his shoulders. "The timing might work out."
Andy's expression remained carefully neutral, but I caught the slight tightening around his eyes. The prospect of being the only one left in New York couldn't be easy.
"That's fantastic," I said, genuinely pleased despite the complicated emotions it evoked. "When did this opportunity arise?"
"Yesterday. Charlie from Hamilton mentioned they're looking for someone to handle the European leg, and my name came up. The interview's preliminary—they're talking to several candidates."
"But they'd be fools not to select you," Dorian interjected. "Your lighting design for The Proposition was revolutionary."
Ryan rolled his eyes, but I could tell he was pleased. "It's a different beast. Touring requires specific expertise."
"Which you have," Andy pointed out quietly. "From your work before The Proposition."
"Maybe." Ryan drained half his coffee. "Anyway, I've got to get ready. Meeting's downtown."
As he turned to leave, Nadia caught his arm. "This is great news, Ryan. Really."
He met her gaze, something unspoken passing between them. "Yeah, well. Figured if you three are going to abandon ship, I might as well see what other vessels are sailing."
The joke couldn't quite disguise the underlying emotion. Ryan had been the most vocal about his concerns regarding our potential separation. This job opportunity seemed both a practical solution and a symbolic gesture—a way of saying he wasn't willing to surrender what we'd built.
After Ryan left, the kitchen fell quiet. Each of us absorbed in our thoughts, calculating what these developments might mean for our future.
"Well," Dorian said finally. "It seems our rehearsal schedule might need adjustment. I propose we focus on Braden's pieces this morning, then perhaps reconvene this afternoon after Ryan returns?"
"Good idea," Nadia agreed. "I need to rest my voice before tonight's performance anyway."
"I'll meet you in the library in thirty minutes," I told Dorian. "I want to review the score first."
He nodded knowingly. "Take your time. Artistic revelation shouldn't be rushed."