Her mouth was open, her eyes wide. Then she closed her mouth.
“We were involved for years, Gabriel, and you never once said you were sorry. Why now?”
He didn’t answer, just leveled his eyes, the muscle in his jaw the only movement in his face.
“It’s because of her, isn’t it?”
Gabriel said nothing. Facing Paulina was difficult enough. He couldn’t speak of what Julianne meant to him—of how much she’d changed him, and of how much he feared the possibility that she wouldn’t forgive him when he returned to her.
He accepted Paulina’s censure without argument. In his current state, he craved punishment and disapproval, for he was all too conscious of his own sin.
She watched his reaction, the emotions that moved across his face. He was in evident distress, something she’d not seen for some time.
“I moved home,” she volunteered, quietly. “I enrolled in a treatment program and I’m going to meetings. I’ve even been seeing a counselor.”
She looked at him carefully. “But you knew that, didn’t you? I’ve been sending reports to Carson’s secretary.”
“I knew, yes.”
“She changed you.”
“Sorry?”
“She’s changed you. She’s—tamed you.”
“This isn’t about her.”
“Oh, yes, it is. How long have we known each other? How long were we sleeping together? Never once did you ask me to forgive you for anything. Not even for—”
He interrupted her quickly. “I should have. I tried to make up for things with money. By taking care of you.”
Gabriel winced, even as he said the words. He was familiar, all too familiar, with the type of man who would act in such a way so as to cover up his sexual indiscretions.
Paulina picked up her coffee mug once again. “Yes, you should have. But I was a fool to settle for what we were. I couldn’t see my way out of it. But now I can. And I swear to God, Gabriel, I’m not going back.”
She pressed her lips together, as if she were trying not to say any more. Then, unexpectedly, she continued.
“All these years, I was worried that my parents would slam the door in my face. I made sure that the taxi waited in the driveway while I rang the doorbell.” She looked down at the table. “I didn’t make it that far. I was trying to navigate through the snow in my high heels when the front door opened and my mother came outside. She was still in her slippers.” Paulina’s voice caught and her eyes welled up with tears. “She ran to me, Gabriel. She ran to me and wrapped her arms around me. I realized before I even entered the house that I could have come home years ago and she would have greeted me exactly the same way.”
“The prodigal daughter,” Gabriel murmured.
“Yes.”
“Then you can understand my desire for forgiveness.”
She regarded him, his eyes, his expression. There was nothing about him that seemed insincere.
“Yes,” she said slowly. “I’m just wondering why you’re asking for this now.”
He retreated back into his chair, his hands clutching his mug.
“You were my friend,” he whispered. “And look at how I treated you.”
Paulina wiped at her eyes.
Gabriel leaned forward.
“And there’s Maia.”
An involuntary cry escaped Paulina’s lips.
She was like him, in this respect. The mention of their child’s name caused immediate anguish. When the name was used without warning, the pain was especially sharp.
“I can’t talk about her.” Paulina closed her eyes.
“She’s happy now.”
“You know I don’t believe that. When you’re dead, you’re dead. You go to sleep and never wake up.”
“I know that isn’t true.”
At Gabriel’s tone, Paulina’s eyes snapped open. There was something in his eyes. Something he was trying to hide, but that he clung to with more conviction than she’d ever seen him manifest before.
“I know I have no right to ask you. I know that I’m troubling you by being here.” He cleared his throat. “But I had to say these things in person. I wronged you. I was monstrous. I’m sorry. Please forgive me.”
Now she was crying, tears slipping from her eyes and down her perfect face.
“Stop.”
“Paulina. We did this one, beautiful thing together. Let’s not mourn her by living empty, wasted lives.”
“How dare you! You come to me to ease your conscience and say something like that!”
Gabriel ground his teeth together.
“I’m not here to ease my conscience. I’m here to make amends.”
“My baby is dead and I can’t have another. Make amends for that.”
He tensed. “I can’t.”
“You never loved me. I wasted my life on a man who merely tolerated me. And only because I was good in bed.”
A muscle jumped in Gabriel’s jaw.
“Paulina, you have many admirable qualities, not least of which are your intelligence, your generosity, and your sense of humor. Don’t sell yourself short.”
She laughed mirthlessly. “In the end, it didn’t matter. No matter how smart I am, I was dumb enough to try to change you. I failed.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I moved on with my life and you come here to dredge it all up.”
“That wasn’t my intent.”
“But you did it just the same.” She wiped her eyes with her hands, shifting her body away from him. “You get to go home to your young, pretty girlfriend knowing that she could give you a child, if that’s what you want. Vasectomies are easily reversed, but what happened to me can never be undone.”
Gabriel hung his head.
“I’m sorry. For everything.”
Reluctantly, he stood to his feet. He moved to walk past her, but she caught his hand.
“Wait.”
Gabriel looked down at her, his eyes wary.
“I met someone. He’s a professor. He helped me get a job teaching English literature while I finish my PhD by extension.”
“I’m glad.”
“I don’t need your money. I won’t be withdrawing from the trust fund again.
“Keith is a widower with two little girls. One is seven and the other is five. Can you imagine? They call me Auntie Paulina. I get to dress them and do their hair and have tea parties with their dolls. I met someone who loves me. And his girls need me. So even though I can’t have a child, I’m still going to be a mother. Or at the very least, an auntie. I forgive you, Gabriel. But I won’t have this conversation again. I made my peace with the past, as much as I can.”
“Agreed.”
She gave him a genuine smile, and he brushed his lips against the top of her head.
“Good-bye, Paulina. Be happy.”
He released her hand and walked away.
Chapter Forty
August 2011
Cambridge, Massachusetts
Going for a run?” Julia glanced up from the breakfast table to see Gabriel clad in his jogging clothes and shoes. He was wearing a crimson Harvard T-shirt and black shorts that hung loosely from his hips.
“That’s right.” He crossed the room in order to kiss her.
“So—are we going to talk soon?”
Gabriel turned away and began disentangling the earphones that connected with his iPhone. “About what?”
“About what’s bothering you?”
“Not right now, no.” He removed his sunglasses from their case and quickly cleaned them with the fabric of his shirt.
Julia bit her tongue, for her patience was almost at an end.
“Have you made an appointment to see your doctor?”
“Here we go,” he muttered, placing his palms
flat on the kitchen island and leaning into them, head bent and eyes closed.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” She crossed her arms over her chest.
He didn’t move.
“No, I haven’t called the doctor.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t need to see him.”
She uncrossed her arms. “But what about the vasectomy reversal? You’ll need to speak with him about that.”
“No, I won’t.” He straightened, nonchalantly picking up his sunglasses and placing them on his face.
“Why not?”
“I’m not having my vasectomy reversed. I’d like us to pursue adoption. I know we can’t adopt Maria, but I’d like us to look into adopting a child when you graduate.”
“You’ve decided,” she breathed.
A muscle jumped in his jaw.
“I’m protecting you.”
“But what about all our conversations? What about what we talked about in the orchard?”
“I was wrong.”
“You were wrong?” She scrambled to her feet. “Gabriel, what the hell is going on?”
“Can we please not do this right now?” He began walking toward the door.
“Gabriel, I—”
“When I get back,” he interrupted. “Give me thirty minutes.”
She bit back an angry response.
“Just tell me one thing.”
He paused, looking at her through his sunglasses.
“What’s that?”
“Do you still love me?”
His expression grew pained. “I’ve never loved you more.”
And with that, he opened the door and fled into the warm morning air.
“How was your run?” Julia greeted a hot and sweaty Gabriel as he entered the kitchen.
“Good. I’m just going to take a shower.”
“Care for some company?”
He gave her a half-smile. “After you.”
Julia preceded him up the stairs and they entered the master bedroom together.
He sat on a chair, pulling off his shoes and socks and peeling away his shirt.
“Did running clear your head?” She studied him intently. The sheen of perspiration was visible on his tanned skin, his muscles rippling with every movement.
“Somewhat.”
“Tell me what’s troubling you.”
He sighed loudly, squeezing his eyes shut. Then he nodded and she sat on the edge of the bed, waiting.
He placed his forearms on his knees, leaning forward. “My whole life I’ve been self-centered. I don’t know how anyone could stand to be near me.”
“Gabriel,” she reproached him. “You’re eminently lovable. That’s why women fall at your feet.”
“I don’t care about that. It’s all based on appearances. They wouldn’t care if I was selfish so long as I gave them a good fuck.”
Julia grimaced.
“I know you. I know all of you and I don’t think you’re selfish.”
“I pursued you when you were my student. I was terrible to my family and to Paulina,” he countered.
Julia looked over into darkened, tortured eyes.
“That’s in the past. We don’t need to speak of it.”
“Of course we need to speak of it.” He placed his head in his hands, gripping his hair. “Don’t you understand? I’m still being selfish. I could hurt you.”
“How?”
“What if Paulina’s miscarriage was my fault?”
Julia’s stomach lurched.
“Gabriel, we talked about this. It wasn’t anyone’s fault.”
“It was my fault I was out on a bender all weekend. If I’d been home to care for her, I could have taken her to the hospital.”
“Please don’t go down that road again. You know where it leads.”
He kept his eyes on the floor. “It leads to the conversation we had in the orchard.”
“The orchard?”
“I’ve been talking to you about having a baby. But I never stopped to think about it in light of what happened with Paulina.”
“Gabriel, please. I—”
He interrupted her. “What if her miscarriage was the result of a genetic abnormality? Something I contributed?”
Julia was stunned into silence.
“I told you I wanted a child. But I never stopped to think about the risks.”
“Miscarriages are common, Gabriel. It’s tragic, but it’s true. Have mercy on yourself. There’s a reason why you had that dream about Maia. Accept the peace she offered you and let it go.”
“What if the same thing happens to us?” His voice broke on the last word. “Look at what your father and Diane are going through.”
“It would be devastating. But this is the world we live in. There’s illness and death. We can’t pretend we’re immune.”
“We can avoid unacceptable risks.”
Julia’s eyes grew sad. “So now you don’t want a baby with me?”
He lifted his head to see tears in her eyes.
“All this talk of Paulina.” Julia swallowed hard. “I know I shouldn’t be jealous, but I envy her. You shared a life-changing experience with her that we might not be able to have.”
“I thought you’d be relieved.”
“Nothing in what you’ve said brings relief.” She searched his eyes. “And you certainly don’t look happy.”
“That’s because I want what I can’t have. I can’t go through what I went through with Paulina again. I can’t and I won’t. I won’t let that happen to you.”
“No children,” she whispered.
“We’ll adopt.”
“So that’s it.”
He nodded.
Julia closed her eyes, letting the implication of his words wash over her. She thought of their future, of the images she’d daydreamed about. She thought about telling Gabriel that she was pregnant, about carrying his child inside her body, about holding his hand while she gave birth to a son . . .
All the images vanished as if in a puff of smoke. Julia felt the loss immediately. She hadn’t realized how much she wanted to have those experiences and to share them with him. Now that he was telling her she couldn’t, she felt pain.
“No.”
“No?” His eyebrows lifted.
“You want to protect me, and that’s admirable. But let’s be clear, there’s something else.”
“I don’t want to see you hurt.”
“It goes deeper than that, doesn’t it? It’s wrapped up in what happened between your father and your mother.”
Gabriel stood up, dropping his shorts to the floor. He turned away, standing naked before her.
She cleared her throat. “Sweetheart, I know that you have scars. You can’t even look at the things in your desk drawer.”
“This isn’t about that. This is about choosing the risks I’m willing to take. Your father could lose Diane and the baby. I’m not prepared to take that risk.”
“Life is risk. I could get cancer. Or get hit by a car. You could wrap me in bubble wrap and keep me indoors and I could still get sick. I know that I could lose you too. And as much as I don’t want to say it, someday you’re going to die.” Her voice broke on the last word. “But I choose to love you now and I choose to build a life with you knowing I could lose you. I’m asking you to make that same choice. I’m asking you to take the risk, with me.”
She moved to him and took his hand in hers.
He looked down at their entwined fingers. “We don’t know what the risks might be. I have no idea what’s in my medical history.”
“We can be tested.”
He squeezed her hand before releasing it.
“That isn’t enough.”
“Some of your rel
atives are still alive. You could try to speak with them, find out about the medical history of your parents and grandparents.”
He scowled. “Do you think I would give them the satisfaction of crawling after them, begging for information? I’d rather burn in Hell.”
“Listen to yourself. You’re right back where you started—thinking that you aren’t good enough to reproduce. And refusing to find out if there are any obvious issues in your family tree. What about your dream about Maia? What about Assisi? What about me, Gabriel? We prayed for a child. We’ve been praying that God would give us our own child. Are you taking back that prayer?”
He clenched his fists at his sides but didn’t respond.
“All because you don’t think you’re good enough,” she whispered. “My beautiful, broken angel.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck.
Gabriel let out an anguished sound as he returned her embrace.
“I’m making you dirty,” he whispered, his sweat-slicked chest pressing against her blouse.
“You’ve never been cleaner.” She tenderly kissed his stubbled jaw.
They held one another before Julia led him to the bathroom. Without words, she turned on the shower and quickly divested herself of her clothing.
He followed her inside the shower.
The water was warm and it fell like rain, bouncing and dancing over their bodies and down to the floor. Julia poured soap into her hands and began to wash Gabriel’s chest, her palms gliding lightly over his pectorals.
He wrapped a hand around her wrist. “What are you doing?”
“I’m trying to show you how much I love you.” She pressed her lips to his tattoo and then continued, lathering his abdomen with her hands. “I seem to remember a beautiful man doing this for me once. It was like a baptism.”
They were silent as she explored the steel and sinew of his arms and legs, the firmness of his backside and the bumps of his spine. She took her time, gently touching him until all the suds had rinsed away.
His eyes pierced hers. “I’ve hurt you, again and again. Yet you’re so giving. Why?”
“Because I love you. Because I have compassion for you. Because I forgive you.”
He closed his eyes and shook his head.
Gabriel's Redemption (Gabriel's Inferno Trilogy) Page 27
