Gabriel's Rapture - Chapter 44

Julia’s eyes were shut tightly. She could hear noises and the distant hum of his voice, but she couldn’t make out any words. Droplets of rain fell on her bare arms and legs, and a solid chest pressed against her face as a warm, masculine body wrapped around her like a blanket.
She opened her eyes.
Gabriel’s handsome face was lined with worry, his eyes shimmering with hope. He placed a hesitant hand against the curve of her cheek, brushing under her eye with the pad of his thumb.
For a few moments, at least, they said nothing.
“Are you all right?” he breathed.
She stared up at him, speechless.
“I didn’t mean to shock you. I came as soon as I could.”
His words broke through the haze that froze her. Julia wriggled out of his grasp. “What are you doing here?”
He frowned. “I would have thought it was obvious.”
“Not to me.”
Gabriel huffed in frustration. “It’s July first. I came as soon as I could.”
Julia shook her head, taking a cautious step back. “What?”
His voice took on a conciliatory tone. “I wish I could have returned earlier.”
Her expression said it all — the narrowed, suspicious eyes, the ruby lips pressed tightly together, the clenched jaw.
“You knew I resigned. Surely you must have known I’d come back.”
Julia clutched her laptop to her chest. “Why would I think that?”
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His eyes widened. For a moment, he was too stunned to speak.
“Did you think that I wouldn’t come back, even after I’d resigned?”
“That’s what a person tends to think when her lover flees the city without so much as a phone call. And sends her an impersonal email saying that it’s over.”
Gabriel’s expression hardened. “Sarcasm does not become you, Julianne.”
“Lying does not become you, Professor.” Her eyes flashed.
He took a step toward her, then stopped. “So we’re back to that, are we? Julianne and the Professor?”
“According to what you told the hearing officers, we never got past it. You’re the professor, I’m the student. You seduced and dumped me. The hearing officers didn’t tell me if you said that you enjoyed it.”
He swore under his breath. “I sent you messages. You simply chose not to believe them.”
“What messages? The telephone calls you never made? The letters you never wrote? Apart from that email, I’ve heard nothing from you since you called me Héloise. Absolutely nothing.
“And what about the messages I left you? Maybe you deleted them without bothering to listen — just like you left without bothering to tell me. Do you know how humiliating that was? That the man who was supposed to love me fled the city in order to break up with me?”
Gabriel pressed a hand to his forehead, as if to help his mind focus. “What about the letter from Abelard to Héloise and the photograph of our orchard? I put the book in your mailbox myself.”
“I didn’t know the textbook was from you. I only looked at it a few minutes ago.”
“But I told you to read Abelard’s letter! I told you myself,” he sputtered, a horrified expression on his face.
Julia clutched her laptop more tightly. “No, you said read my sixth letter. I did. You told me to choose a sweater because the weather had turned cold.” She eyed him furiously. “You were right.”
“I called you Héloise. Wasn’t it obvious?”
“It was crushingly obvious,” she snapped. “Héloise was seduced and abandoned by her professor. Your message was crystal clear!”
“But the textbook…” he began. He searched her eyes. “The photograph.”
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“I found it tonight when I was unpacking my books.” Her expression softened. “Before this, I thought you were telling me that you’d tired of me.”
“Forgive me,” he managed. His words were woefully inadequate, but they came from the heart. “I…Julianne, I need to expl — ”
“We should go inside,” she interrupted, peering up at the windows of her apartment.
He reached out to take her hand but thought better of it, letting his arm drop to his side.
The thunder and lightning continued as they climbed the stairs. By the time they entered the studio apartment, the lights had flickered and gone out.
“I wonder if it’s just this building,” Julia mused. “Or if it’s the whole street.”
Gabriel murmured his response, watching impotently as she felt her way across the room. She pulled back the blinds to let in as much light as possible. Mount Auburn Street was dark.
“We could go somewhere with electricity.” His voice sounded at her elbow, and she jumped.
“Sorry.” He placed a hand on her arm.
“I’d rather stay here.”
Gabriel resisted the urge to insist, realizing that he was in no position to demand that Julia do anything. He looked around the room.
“Do you have a flashlight or some candles?”
“Both, I think.” She found a flashlight and handed Gabriel a towel while she retreated to the bathroom to change into dry clothes. By the time she’d returned, he was seated on the futon, surrounded by a half-dozen tea lights, which were spread artfully on the furniture and across the floor.
Julia watched the shadows flicker on the wall behind him. Unearthly shapes seemed to hover around him, as if he were trapped in Dante’s Inferno. The lines on his forehead had deepened, it seemed, and his eyes appeared larger. He hadn’t shaved recently, the scruff of his beard covering the planes of his face. He’d smoothed his damp hair back with his fingers, but a single curl had rebelled, clinging stubbornly to his forehead.
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Julia had forgotten how attractive he was. How, with just a glance or a word he could make her blood heat. He was as dangerous as he was beautiful.
Gabriel reached out to pull her to sit next to him, but she curled into the opposite corner.
“I found a corkscrew and a bottle of wine. I hope you don’t mind.” He handed her a glass that was half-full of an inexpensive Shiraz. She was surprised he’d bothered, for it was the kind of wine he would have disdained in the past.
She took several long sips, savoring the wine on her tongue. She waited for him to cough, sputter, and complain about the appalling bathwater. But he didn’t. In fact, he didn’t drink at all. Instead, he stared at her, his eyes coming to rest unapologetically on the swell of her breasts.
“Are you changing schools?” His voice sounded husky.
“What?”
He gestured to her sweatshirt.
She looked down. Boston College.
“No, Paul gave this to me. He went there for his master’s, remember?”
Gabriel stiffened. “I gave you a sweatshirt once,” he observed, more to himself than to her.
Julia took another long sip of wine, wishing there was more of it.
He watched her drink, his eyes resting on her mouth and throat. “Do you still have my Harvard sweatshirt?”
“Let’s talk about something else.”
He shifted uncomfortably but couldn’t drag his gaze away from her. He longed to run his hands up and down her body and press their mouths together. “What do you think about Boston University?”
She looked over at him warily. In response to her suspicion, the bravado seemed to leak out of his gaze and he chewed at the edge of his mouth.
“Katherine Picton told me to introduce myself to the Dante specialist in the Department of Romance Studies. But I haven’t gotten around to it. I’ve been busy.”
“Then I need to thank her.”
“Why?”
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He hesitated.
“I’m the new Dante specialist at Boston University.”
He searched her eyes for a reaction. But there wasn’t one. She sat very still, the candlelight flickering over her fine features.
He chuckled mirthlessly, pouring more wine into her glass. “That isn’t the response I was hoping for.”
She muttered her annoyance, tasting the wine again. “So you’re — here to stay?”
“That depends.” He looked at her sweatshirt significantly.
The heat of his gaze seemed to scorch her. She resisted the urge to hide her breasts from him, keeping her arms at her sides.
“I’m a full professor now. Romance Studies doesn’t have a graduate program in Italian. The university wanted to be able to attract graduate students in Dante studies, so they cross-appointed me with Religion. They have a graduate program.”
He gazed at the shadows that surrounded them, shaking his head. “Surprising, isn’t it? That a man who spent his life running from God should become a professor of Religion.”
“I’ve seen stranger things.”
“Yes,” Gabriel whispered, “I think you have. I would have resigned from Toronto sooner, but it would have caused a scandal. Once you’d graduated, I was free to accept the job here.”
Julia turned away, and Gabriel noticed the nakedness of her ear lobes. She wasn’t wearing Grace’s earrings anymore. The thought gutted him.
Her brow wrinkled as she contemplated what he’d just said.
“What’s so significant about July first?”
“Today is the day my contract in Toronto ends. It’s the day my resignation takes effect.” He cleared his throat. “I read your emails and listened to your voice mails — all of them. But I hoped you’d seen the book. I placed it in your mailbox myself.”
Julia was still processing his words. She wasn’t accepting his excuses; she simply wasn’t arguing with him. At least, not yet.
“I’m sorry I missed your graduation.” He sipped a glass of water. “Katherine sent me a few photographs.” He cleared his throat, hesitating. “You looked beautiful. You are beautiful.”
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He dug into his trouser pocket and produced his iPhone. Curious, she took it, setting her wine aside. As his wallpaper, Gabriel had a photograph of Julia in her graduation gown, shaking Katherine Picton’s hand.
“From Katherine,” he explained, noting her confusion.
She scrolled through his photo album determinedly, her stomach queasy. There were pictures from their trip to Italy and photos from Christmas, but Paulina was not to be found. There were no compromising pictures of Gabriel, no images of other women. In fact, almost all the pictures were of her, including a series of very provocative shots that he’d taken in Belize.
She was surprised. After being so convinced he wanted nothing to do with her, the sight of his apparent regard was disorienting.
She returned his phone. “The picture that you used to keep on your dresser, the one of us at Lobby, did you take it with you?”
His eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Yes. How did you know?”
Julia paused for a moment as the revelation sunk in. “I noticed it was missing when I went looking for you.”
He reached out to take her hand but once again, she withdrew.
“When I went back to my condo, I saw your clothes. Why you didn’t take them?”
“They weren’t really mine.”
Gabriel’s eyebrows knitted together. “Of course they were yours. They still are, if you want them.”
She shook her head.
“Believe me, Julianne, I wanted you with me. The photograph was a poor substitute.”
“You wanted me?”
Gabriel couldn’t help himself. He gently stroked the curve of her cheek with his thumb, inwardly relieved that she didn’t flinch. “I never stopped wanting you.”
She moved away, leaving his hand to touch only air. Her tone grew harsh. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to be left by the person you love, not once, but twice?”
Gabriel pressed his lips together. “No, I don’t. Forgive me.”
He waited to see if she would answer him, but she didn’t.
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“So Paul gave you that sweatshirt.” He toyed with his glass. “How is he?”
“He’s fine. Why do you care?”
“He’s my student.” Professor Emerson sounded prim.
“So was I, once,” she said bitterly. “You should email him. He said he hasn’t heard from you.”
“So you’ve spoken with him?”
“Yes, Gabriel. I’ve spoken with him.”
Julia pulled her wet hair out of its ponytail, running her fingers delicately through the tangles.
Gabriel watched, entranced, as a cascade of dark, shiny strands fell across her thin shoulders.
“My hair hurts,” she explained.
The corners of his mouth turned up in amusement. “I didn’t know hair could hurt.”
He ran his fingers through her hair, and his expression changed instantly to one of concern. “You could have been seriously injured, standing in the middle of the street.”
“I’m lucky I didn’t drop my laptop. It has all my research on it.”
“It’s my fault for surprising you. I’m sure I looked like a ghost, skulking about behind that tree.”
“I don’t think you’ve ever skulked a day in your life. And you didn’t look like a ghost. You looked like something else.”
“Like what?”
Suddenly, Julia felt her skin flame.
He watched her cheeks take on the shade of pink he was most familiar with. He ached to feel her blush beneath his fingers. But he was wary of pushing her.
She gestured vaguely. “Paul suggested I back up my files on a flash drive, so if something happened to my computer I’d still have everything. But I haven’t updated it recently.”
At the second mention of his former research assistant, Gabriel suppressed a growl and the urge to mutter a favored expletive that involved copulating carnally with celestial creatures.
He turned to her. “I thought you’d expect me to get in touch with you once you graduated.”
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“What if I did, Gabriel? Graduation came and went with no word from you.”
“As I said, I had to wait until my resignation took effect. My contract didn’t end until July first.”
“I don’t want to talk about that right now.”
“Why not?”
“Because I can’t say the things I need to say while you’re sitting on my futon.”
“I see,” he said slowly.
She shifted her feet, actively resisting the overwhelming urge to throw herself into his arms and tell him that everything was fine. Things between them weren’t fine. And she owed it to herself, if not to him, to be honest.
“I’ve taken up enough of your evening.” He sounded defeated.
He stood, glancing at the door, then back at Julia. “I understand if you don’t want to talk to me. But I hope you’ll give me one more conversation before you say good-bye.”
Julia straightened her shoulders. “You didn’t say good-bye with a conversation. You said it by fucking me against a door.”
He strode toward her quickly.
“Stop it. You know my opinion of that word. Never use it in reference to us again.”
Here was the old Professor Emerson, simmering beneath Gabriel’s chastened exterior. He’d been soft with her, so she found his change in tone jarring. But she’d been exposed to his ill temper before and discovered, at that moment, that it didn’t really trouble her. So she ignored him and stood up, prepared to escort him out.
“Don’t forget this.” She picked up his cell phone.
“Thank you. Julianne, please — ”
“How’s Paulina?”
Her question hung in the air like an arrow, poised in flight.
“Why do you ask?”
“I’m wondering how often you saw her while you were gone.”
Gabriel placed his phone in his pocket. “I saw her once. I asked for her forgiveness and wished her well.” His tone had the air of finality.
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“Is that all?”
“Why don’t you just come out and ask the question, Julianne?” His lips pressed into a thin, angry line. “Why don’t you ask me if I slept with her?”
“Did you?” She crossed her arms over her chest.
“Of course not!”
Gabriel’s answer was so swift, so vehement, Julia retreated slightly. He was righteously indignant, his fists clenched.
“Maybe I should have been more specific. There are a lot of things a man and woman can do short of sleeping together.” She raised her chin defiantly.
Gabriel glared, forcing himself to count to ten. It would not do for him to lose his temper now. Not when he had so far to go.
“I realize that you and I have very different views of my departure, but I assure you, I didn’t seek out other women.” His expression grew gentle. “I was alone with your pictures and my memories, Julianne. They were poor companions, but the only other companion I wanted was you.”
“So there wasn’t anyone else?”
“I was faithful the entire time. I swear it, on Grace’s memory.”
His oath stunned them both, and as their eyes met she saw his sincerity. She closed her eyes. Relief began to well up inside her.
He took her hand, cradling it gently in his. “There are a lot of things I should have told you. I’ll tell you now. Come with me.”
“I’d rather stay here,” she whispered, her voice taking on an eerie sound in the flickering darkness.
“The Julianne I remembered hated the dark.” He released her hand. “Paulina is in Minnesota. She reconciled with her family and met someone. We agreed that I would no longer be supporting her, and she wished us well.”
“She wished you well,” Julia muttered.
“No, she wished us well. Don’t you see? She assumed we were still together and I didn’t tell her otherwise. In my mind, you and I were still together.”
This was Gabriel’s own arrow, pointed back at her. He hadn’t told Paulina that he was single, because in his mind, he wasn’t. The realization washed over her.
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“There’s no one else.” His voice was the soul of sincerity.
She averted her eyes. “What were you doing in front of a closed coffee shop in the middle of the night?”
“I was working up the courage to ring your doorbell.” Gabriel began twisting the platinum band on his left hand. “I had to convince Rachel to give me your address. She was understandably hesitant.”
Julia’s eyes dropped to his left hand. “Why are you wearing a wedding ring?”
“Why do you think?” He pulled off the ring and held it out to her.
She recoiled.
“Read the inscription,” he urged.
Hesitantly, she took the ring and held it up to one of the candles. Julianne — my Beloved is mine and I am hers.
A sick feeling entered her stomach, and she quickly returned it to him. He replaced it on his left hand without a word.
“Why are you wearing a ring with my name on it?”
“You said that you didn’t want to talk.” His voice was gently reproving. “If you’re allowed to ask me questions, can I ask about Paul?”
She blushed and looked away. “He was there to pick up the pieces.”
Gabriel closed his eyes. He was perilously close to giving in to his temper and saying something cutting, but that would only succeed in pushing her further away.
He opened his eyes. “Forgive me. This ring has a mate, smaller in size. I purchased them at Tiffany in Toronto on the day I bought the silver frame for Maia’s picture.
“I still think of you as my other half. My bashert. Despite what happened, there was never any question of me pursuing someone else. I have been faithful to you since you told me who you were, back in October.”
Julia suddenly found it very difficult to speak. “Gabriel — these past few months, without a word, then tonight…”
He looked at her with compassion, his arms aching to hold her. But she was too far away. “We don’t have to have this conversation now. Just — if you can stand it, please let me see you tomorrow.” He gave her a look filled with longing.
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She met his gaze briefly. “Okay.”
He exhaled loudly. “Good. I’ll speak to you tomorrow, then. Rest well.”
She nodded, opening the door.
“Julianne?”
He stood in front of her, far too close. She looked up at him.
“Will you — let me kiss your hand?” His voice was wistful and small, like a young boy.
She waited for him to kiss the back of her hand, then without thinking she reached up and pressed her lips to his forehead. Suddenly, his arms were around her back, pulling her flush against him.
Although he had trouble thinking of anything other than Julianne when he was kissing her, Gabriel focused his attention on trying to communicate with lips and mouth that he hadn’t betrayed her. That he loved her.
When she kissed him back with equal passion, he moaned.
He made sure to be gentle, if not intense, and as her own movements slowed, he began to nibble slightly at the fullness of her lower lip, before pressing closed mouthed kisses to both cheeks and finally, the end of her nose.
When he opened his eyes he saw a flood of emotions pass over Julia’s pretty face.
He ran his fingers through her damp hair, once, twice, and gazed down at her longingly. “I love you.”
She was silent as he walked through the door.
P
Gabriel’s kiss did nothing to strengthen Julia’s resolve, but she would not consider it a mistake. She’d been curious about what it would be like to kiss him again and was surprised at how familiar it was. In mere seconds he succeeded in causing her pulse to race and her throat to constrict.
She couldn’t deny that he loved her. She’d felt it. Even Gabriel, with his polished manners and charm, couldn’t lie with his kiss.
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There was something different about him. He seemed softer, somehow, more vulnerable. Yes, there was the occasional show of temper and the old Professor Emerson, but she knew that Gabriel had changed. She just didn’t know why.
By the following morning the power had been restored and Julia was able to recharge her phone. She called the manager at Peet’s and explained that she was under the weather and would be taking the weekend off. He wasn’t happy about it since it was the fourth of July weekend, but there was little he could do.
After a long hot shower, (a shower spent dreaming about Gabriel’s lips and old, suppressed memories of the two of them together), Julia felt much, much better. And only a little worse. She sent a quick email to Rachel, explaining that Gabriel had returned and declared his love for her. An hour later, her phone rang. She expected that it would be Rachel. Surprisingly, it was Dante Alighieri.
“How did you sleep?” Gabriel sounded cheerful.
“Well. And you?”
He paused. “Not as well as I used to — tolerably, I suppose.”
Julia laughed. This was the Professor Emerson she remembered.
“I want to show you my house,” he said.
“What, now?”
“Today, if you’re willing.” He sounded worried she might refuse.
“Where is it?”
“It’s on Foster Place, near Longfellow’s house. Ideal for a commute to Harvard. Not so convenient for BU.”
Julia was puzzled. “If it’s inconvenient for BU, then why did you buy it?”
Gabriel cleared his throat. “I was thinking that — I was hoping that…” He struggled to find the right words. “It’s small but it has a beautiful garden. I’d like to know what you think of it.” He cleared his throat again, and she swore she could hear him tugging at his shirt collar. “Of course, I could always move.”
She hummed in response, not sure what to say.
“Now that you’ve had a good night’s sleep, will you talk to me a little?”
Julia had never heard Gabriel sound so nervous. “Of course. But it isn’t something we can do over the phone.”
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“I need to pay a visit to campus to see my new office. It won’t take long.”
“There’s no rush.”
“Yes, there is.” Now Gabriel’s voice was heated.
She sighed heavily. “I could come over later.”
“Come for dinner. I’ll pick you up at six thirty.”
“I’ll take a cab.”
Julia broke the awkward pause that followed with an explanation that she needed to go.
“Fine,” said Gabriel stiffly. “If you wish to take a cab, that’s your prerogative.”
“I’m going to keep an open mind until we talk, and I’d like to ask you to do that too.” Her tone was conciliatory.
Gabriel felt as if he were hanging on to his hopes by a very thin thread. He was far from certain that she would take him back. And even if she did, the old specter of jealously taunted him. He didn’t know how he would react if she revealed that she’d turned to Paul in her grief and shared his bed.
God damned Angelfucker.
“Of course,” Gabriel said, his voice strained.
“I’m surprised you called me. Why didn’t you call me while you were away?”
He was silent for a moment. “That’s a long story.”
“I’m sure it is. I’ll see you tonight.”
She hung up the phone, wondering what his story would include.
P
When Julia arrived at Gabriel’s new home, she surveyed it with no little puzzlement. It was a two-story frame house with a simple, unadorned front, and it was painted a charcoal gray with darker trim. There was almost no front yard to speak of and a small, paved car pad to the house’s right.
In an email that included directions, Gabriel had sent Julia a link to the original real estate listing for the property. The asking price
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had been over a million dollars. The house had been built prior to World War II. In fact, the entire street had been a neighborhood of Italian immigrants who built the small, two bedroom houses in the nineteen twenties. Now the street was populated with old-moneyed yuppies, Harvard professors, and Gabriel.
As she took in the tidy simplicity of the building, Julia shook her head. So this is what a million dollars can buy you in Harvard Square.
As she prepared to knock on the front door, she was surprised to find a note on it in Gabriel’s hand.
Julianne,
Please meet me in the garden.
G.
She sighed, and just like that she knew that tonight was going to be very, very difficult. She walked around the side of the house and down the little paved driveway, gasping when she rounded the corner.
There were flowers and greenery, wisps of sea grass and elegantly trimmed boxwood, and in the very center of the garden stood what looked like a Sultan’s tent. A fountain sat on the right side of the green space, featuring a marble statue of Venus. Underneath the fountain was a small pond filled with white and red Koi.
Julia walked toward the tent so she could peer inside. And what she saw pained her.
In the tent was a low, square bed, exactly like the futon that graced the terrace of the suite she’d shared with Gabriel in Florence. In the suite where they’d made love for the first time. On the terrace where he fed her chocolates and strawberries and danced with her to Diana Krall under the Tuscan sky. The futon where he made love to her the following morning. Gabriel had tried to reproduce the ambience of that terrace down to the very color scheme of the bedclothes.
The voice of Frank Sinatra seemed to float from somewhere closer to the house, while almost every flat, fireproof surface held a tall, pillar candle. Ornate Moroccan lanterns were suspended from crisscrossed wires overhead.
It was a fairy tale. It was Florence, and their apple orchard, and the wonders of an Arabian night. Unfortunately for Gabriel, the extravagant gesture begged the question: if he was resourceful enough
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to construct a Moroccan caravan in his garden, why couldn’t he have told her he planned to return?
Gabriel saw her standing in his garden, and his heart leapt. He wanted to pull her into his arms and press their lips together. But he could see from the set of her shoulders and the stiffness of her spine that such an act would be unwelcome. So he approached her carefully.
“Good evening, Julianne.” A silky voice caressed her ear as Gabriel leaned in from behind her.
She hadn’t heard him approach, so she shivered slightly. He rubbed one arm and then the other, up and down, in an act that was supposed to be comforting but in reality caused a deep erotic flush to dance across the surface of her skin.
“I like the music,” she said, pulling away from him.
He extended his palm as an invitation. Cautiously, she placed her hand in his. He pressed an unhurried kiss to her knuckles before releasing her.
“You’re stunning, as always.”
Gabriel’s eyes slowly drank in the sight of Julia in her plain black dress, her pale, shapely legs in a pair of black ballet flats, and the way the gentle whisper of wind blew a few strands of hair across her glossy, reddish lips as she turned to face him.
“Thank you.” She waited for him to comment on her shoes, for his eyes rested on them a little longer than was polite. She’d worn the flats because they were comfortable and because she wished to assert her independence. She knew he wouldn’t like them. Surprisingly, however, he smiled.
Gabriel was a little more casually dressed in a white linen shirt and khaki pants, with a navy linen jacket. His smile was perhaps his most decorative asset.
“The tent is beautiful.”
“Does it please you?” he whispered.
“You always ask me that.”
Gabriel’s smile faded slightly, but he resisted the urge to frown. “You used to like the fact that I am a considerate lover.”
Their eyes met and Julia looked away. “It’s a lovely gesture, but I would rather have had a letter from you or a telephone call three months ago.”
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It appeared as if he wanted to argue with her, but in an instant his expression changed.
“Where are my manners,” he muttered. He offered his elbow, escorting her to a small bistro table that was set up in a corner of the stone patio.
Small white lights shone down on the patio from the branches of an obliging maple. Julia wondered if Gabriel had hired an exterior decorator just for the occasion. He pulled out her chair, and when she was seated, gently eased it closer to the table. She noticed that the centerpiece on the table was filled with orange and red gerbera daisies.
“How did you manage all of this?” Julia unfolded her napkin and placed it in her lap.
“Rebecca is a wonder of New England industriousness.”
Julia gave him a questioning look, but her question was soon answered when Gabriel’s housekeeper served dinner. Rebecca was tall and plain and wore her salt and pepper hair in a short bob. Her eyes, which were large and dark, sparkled with amusement. Julia divined quickly that Gabriel had taken Rebecca into part of his confidence, at least as far as this evening was concerned.
Despite the elaborate décor and the perfect music, dinner was a simple affair by Gabriel’s standards: lobster bisque; a pear, walnut, and Gorgonzola salad; steamed mussels with frites; and then finally and most gloriously, a blueberry tart with sour lemon ice cream. Gabriel served her champagne, the same Veuve Clicquot he’d served the first time she dined at his apartment. That evening seemed so long ago, even though it was less than a year.
They made small talk during their meal, discussing Rachel’s wedding and Scott’s girlfriend and her son. Gabriel described the things he liked about his house and those he didn’t, promising Julia a tour. Neither of them were in a hurry to begin discussing the events leading up to their separation.
“You aren’t drinking?” She noticed that he’d imbibed only Perrier with his meal.
“I quit.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “Why?”
“Because I was drinking too much.”
“Not when you were with me. You pledged not to get drunk anymore.”
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“Precisely,” he said.
She looked at him carefully, at the way his eyes indicated there was a very unpleasant experience behind his words. “But you enjoyed drinking.”
“I have an addictive personality, Julianne. You know this.” He smoothly changed the subject to something more pleasant.
When Rebecca served dessert, he and Julia exchanged a look.
“No chocolate cake tonight?”
“Non, mon ange,” Gabriel breathed. “Although I’d love nothing more than to feed you again.”
Julia felt her cheeks grow red, and she knew it would be a poor decision to go down that road with him before they had their conversation, but as he gazed at her with undisguised passion, she couldn’t bring herself to care.
“I’d like that,” she said, quietly.
Gabriel smiled as if the sun had just returned to the sky after a protracted absence and quickly shifted his chair so he was seated next to her. Close. Very close. So close that she could feel his warm breath on her neck, which goose pimpled in anticipation.
Gabriel picked up Julia’s dessert fork and placed some pie and ice cream on it and turned to face her.
As she gazed at him with longing, his breath caught in his throat.
“What is it?” She looked at him in alarm.
“I’d almost forgotten how lovely you are.” He traced the curve of her cheekbone with his unencumbered hand and brought the fork to her lips.
She closed her eyes and opened her mouth, and at that moment, Gabriel’s heart soared. Yes, it was a little thing — almost inconsequential if one were to consider what tales to tell a confidante. But Julia didn’t trust quickly or easily. The ease with which she made herself vulnerable to him made his heart beat quick and his blood pump fast.
She hummed at the mixture of flavors, opening her eyes.
He couldn’t help himself. He leaned closer so their mouths were parted by mere inches and whispered, “May I?”
She nodded, and he pressed his lips to hers. She was sweetness and light, gentleness and goodness, and the burning and searing goal
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of all of his earthly hunts and fascinations. But she didn’t belong to him. So he kissed her gently, like he first kissed her in the orchard, with both hands tangling in her long, curled hair. Then he pulled back to watch her face.
A contented sigh escaped her ruby lips as she sat with eyes closed, floating.
“I love you,” he said.
Now her eyes were open. Her expression reflected an unnamed emotion, but she didn’t say it back.
When dessert was well and truly over, Gabriel suggested they take their espressos to the tent, dismissing Rebecca for the evening. Night had fallen on this little patch of Eden, and like Adam himself, Gabriel led a blushing Eve to his bower.
She kicked off her shoes and curled up on the futon against the cushions, nervously chewing her fingernails while Gabriel lit the candles in the Moroccan lanterns. He took his time, adjusting them so their light flickered over the futon seductively. Then he lit the other candles that were scattered throughout the tent. Finally, he lay on his back next to her, hands behind his head, angled so he could see her face.
“I’d like to talk about what happened,” she initiated.
Gabriel gave her his full attention.
“When you showed up outside my apartment I didn’t know whether to hit you or kiss you.” Her voice was low.
“Didn’t you?” he whispered.
“I didn’t do either.”
“It was never your nature to be vindictive. Or cruel.”
She took a deep breath and began. She told him how it broke her heart to have left message after message with him, only to have them unacknowledged. She told him about her surprise at finding his apartment abandoned. She told him about the kindness of his neighbor, and Paul, and Katherine Picton. She spoke of her continued sessions with Nicole.
Julia was too busy fussing with her espresso to notice how unsettled he’d become. When she mentioned how the textbook he’d passed to her had ended up on her shelf unopened, Gabriel cursed Paul.
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“You aren’t allowed to curse him.” Her tone was sharp. “It wasn’t his fault that you put your message in a textbook. Why didn’t you choose a volume out of your personal library? I might have recognized it.”
“I’d been ordered to stay away from you. If I’d put a volume from my library in your mailbox, Jeremy would have noticed it. As it was, I chose a textbook and I placed it in your mailbox after hours.” He huffed in frustration. “Didn’t the title mean anything to you?”
“What title?”
“The title of the textbook: Marriage in the Middle Ages: Love, Sex, and the Sacred.”
“What should it have meant, Gabriel? For all I knew, you’d labeled me as your Héloise and left me. I didn’t have any reason to think otherwise and you didn’t leave me with one.”
He leaned forward, eyes flashing. “The textbook was the reason. The title, the photo from the orchard, the image of St. Francis trying to save Guido da Montefeltro…” His voice cracked, and he paused, in agony. “Didn’t you remember our conversation in Belize? I told you I’d go to Hell to save you. And believe me, I did.”
“I didn’t know you’d sent me messages. I overlooked the textbook because I didn’t know it was from you. Why didn’t you call me?”
“I couldn’t talk to you,” he whispered. “I was told that the Dean would interview you prior to your graduation and that he would ask if you’d heard from me. You’re a lovely woman, Julianne, but a terrible liar. I had to send messages in code.”
Julia’s surprise registered immediately on her face. “You knew about the interview?”
“I knew about a great many things,” he said stoically. “But I couldn’t tell. That’s the point.”
“Rachel told me not to despair.” She captured his gaze for a moment. “But I needed to hear those words from you. Our last night together, you had sex with me, but you wouldn’t talk to me. What was I supposed to think?”
Tears overflowed her eyes. But before she could wipe them away with her hand, Gabriel’s tugged her from her safe corner into his outstretched arms. He pressed her to his chest and kissed her head, before wrapping his arms around her back.
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Somehow, the feel of his arms around her made her cry harder. He squeezed her gently.
“My pride was my downfall. I thought I could court you while you were my student and get away with it. I was wrong.”
“I thought you chose your job instead of me.” Julia’s voice was filled with hurt. “When I discovered you’d moved out of your apartment…Why didn’t you tell me you were leaving?”
“I couldn’t.”
“Why not?”
“Forgive me, Julianne. My goal was not to hurt you, I promise. I regret everything that you described.” He kissed her forehead once again. “I need to tell you what happened. It’s a long story. And only you can tell me how it ends…”

Categories: Gabriel's Rapture