She realized that if she focused on the future, she’d never be able to address the past, at least not adequately. So she was determined to focus solely on their past interactions, including his rudeness and condescension this semester. He needed to explain himself, and she needed to listen without jumping to conclusions. Then she would tell him exactly what she thought about him.
Yes, it was going to be painful for both of them. It saddened her to realize that she had never had a healthy romantic relationship, when one of the things she wanted most in life was to enjoy affection and love. And Gabriel, despite the fact that he came from a good albeit adopted family and was intelligent, handsome, and wealthy, was probably incapable of having a healthy romantic relationship at all.
Her mother’s relationships were far from healthy or normal, and Julia had seen too many of them from an early age, an endless parade of myriad dysfunctions. In contrast, her father’s relationship with Deb Lundy was normal enough, if not a little on the casual side. They cared for one another, Julia thought, but their care was cool and small, like a distant star.
Gabriel’s love would burn hot like the sun, if he was even capable of loving someone. It’s obvious he prefers sex to love, or maybe he just conflates the two. What’s worse—thinking sex is love, or thinking that the two can be separated from one another and preferring sex?
Julia allowed the warm water of the shower to pour over her, trying to take her mind away from the inexplicable draw she felt toward him. What I would not give to have even a part of the happiness that Grace and Richard had. They had the ideal marriage. They always spoke kindly to one another. And they were so much in love…
Julia exited the shower and was soon clad only in Gabriel’s bathrobe with a thick, white towel wrapped around her curling hair. At least, she thought it was Gabriel’s bathrobe. It didn’t smell like him. She pulled on the slippers and went hunting in the bedroom for some clothes. She found a pair of socks, a white undershirt, and a pair of Princeton boxer shorts in his dresser, all of which looked like they would fit her somewhat. Walking over to Gabriel’s large and immaculate walk-in closet, she flipped on the light switch. Row upon row of meticulously organized clothes met her on three sides.
She moved to the far wall and began going through a pile of sweaters and cardigans, almost all cashmere by Loro Piana, neatly arranged between wooden dividers on a shelf. She quickly found the British-racing-green sweater that she’d borrowed before and noticed with satisfaction that it had apparently been returned to its formerly pristine condition. She boldly held the sweater to her nose and inhaled, smiling with pleasure as she realized that it smelled of Aramis and Gabriel. He must have worn it after it had come back from the dry cleaner.
Just then, something shiny caught her eye. Leaning up against the wall and half-hidden behind the hangers of sports coats and suit jackets were Gabriel’s black-and-white framed photographs. She recognized the top photograph as the fifth one, the one that had been over the bed. It was gently erotic and almost tender.
He shouldn’t have been ashamed of this one. Julia wished her back was that beautiful. And part of her wished that Gabriel would look at her the way the man in the photograph looked at the woman. Just once.
She quickly returned to the bathroom and regarded her face in the mirror. She looked tired. She was pale, as usual, with dark circles under her eyes. Those eyes were glassy, and her veins showed at her neck. She looked ill, actually, after a couple of weeks of drama and lack of sleep, and the contrast between her pale skin and her dark hair wasn’t helping matters. Nor was the fact that Rachel had not thought to leave cosmetics behind for Gabriel’s overnight guests. Clearly, it was an oversight on her part.
After dressing, Julia ventured into the kitchen. Gabriel was nowhere to be found. She stuffed her dirty clothes into her knapsack and pulled out her phone and the padded envelope. Plopping herself on one of the bar stools she quickly checked her voice mail. Five messages from Paul were waiting, each more urgent than the last, culminating with a message in which he said he was standing outside her building on Madison Avenue and ringing her doorbell.
Scheisse. There was no way she could explain what had happened. But she couldn’t ignore Paul either, so she quickly manufactured an excuse and texted it to him:
Paul, hi. Sorry. Didn’t hear doorbell.
Broken? Emerson scolded me
but won’t have to drop class (phew).
Have to find new advisor.
Working on it.
Chat later & thanks, Julia
She hoped her message would be enough to occupy him until she constructed a better explanation. She supposed she would have to speak to Gabriel about that so that they could get their story straight.
Something Gabriel had said yesterday made her curious about the contents of the envelope he’d left for her in her mailbox. Opening it, in addition to her black lace bra she found her iPod. She pulled it out, placed the ear buds in her ears, and scrolled through the music to the Recently Added Song section, where she discovered that Gabriel had made two additions.
The first song was Prospero’s Speech by Loreena McKennitt. With surprise, Julia listened to the haunting female voice sing words from Shakespeare’s The Tempest:
But release me from my bands
With the help of your good hands:
Gentle breath of yours my sails
Must fill, or else my project fails,
Which was to please. Now I want
Spirits to enforce, art to enchant,
And my ending is despair,
Unless I be relieved by prayer,
Which pierces so that it assaults
Mercy itself and frees all faults.
As you from your crimes would pardon’d be,
Let your indulgence set me free.
Julia listened to the song twice more, stunned by both the language and the music. She had known long ago that Gabriel was intense; Grace had said so. And Julia had experienced his intensity during their first encounter, when he’d gazed into her eyes as if she was the first woman he had ever seen.
“Julianne?”
She let out a small cry and clapped a hand over her mouth. Gabriel was standing in front of her with three small bags in one hand and a bouquet of purple irises in the other. Staring, she removed the ear buds from her ears. He eyed her iPod curiously and smiled.
Julia smiled back. In response, he leaned toward her, his eyes locked on hers, and lightly pressed his lips to her left cheek and then to her right. She thought he was approaching her mouth, so when he touched her cheek she felt disappointed. Nevertheless, a spark surged from his lips, causing her heart to speed. She blushed and looked down at her hands.
“Good morning, Julianne. I’m glad you stayed. How did you sleep?” Gabriel’s voice was gentle.
“I slept well—later on.”
He reached behind her to place the groceries and flowers on the breakfast bar.
“As did I.” He made no move to touch her but followed her gaze to her fingers.
Julia shivered slightly as she thought of what he had done to her fingers the night before.
“Are you cold?”
“No.”
“You’re quivering.” Gabriel’s eyebrows knit together, creating a furrow in between them. “Am I making you nervous?”
“A little.”
He withdrew to the kitchen and began unpacking the groceries.
“What did you buy?” she asked, gesturing to the bags.
“Pastries and a baguette. There’s a French bakery around the corner that makes the best pain au chocolat in the city. Also, some cheese from the cheese shop downstairs, fruit, and a surprise.”
“A surprise?”
“Yes.” He smiled and waited.
She wrinkled her nose. “Will you tell me what the surprise is?”
“If I tell you, it won’t be a surprise.”
She rolled her eyes, and he laughed at her.
“Baci,” he said.
>
Julia paused. Kisses?
Gabriel saw her reaction and realized the double entendre had not been understood. He pulled something from one of the grocery bags and placed it in the center of his right palm, holding it out to her as one might hold out an apple to tempt a horse.
The similarity was not lost on Julia, who looked at the small, foil-wrapped chocolate with an upturned nose.
“I thought you liked them,” he said, a tinge of hurt coloring his voice. “When Antonio gave you one, you said they were your favorite.”
“They are. But I’m not supposed to take chocolates from men, remember? I think you gave me an order to that effect when we were at Lobby with Rachel.” Julia took the proffered chocolate and eagerly unwrapped it, popping it into her mouth.
“I don’t order you around.”
She gaped at him while she chewed and swallowed her chocolate. “Are you kidding?”
“No.”
“What planet are you from? Hello, my name is Gabriel, and I’m from the planet of bossy-no-self-awareness.”
He frowned. “Very amusing, Julianne.” He cleared his throat and searched her eyes. “Be serious for a moment. You think I order you around?”
“Gabriel, you do nothing but. You only have one form of direct address, and it’s the imperative; do this, do that, come here. On top of all that, like Paul, you seem to think I belong in a zoo. Or a children’s book.”
At the mere mention of Paul’s name Gabriel’s frown deepened into a scowl. “Someone had to attend to our situation yesterday. I was trying to protect both of us. And I asked you to talk to me, Julianne. I tried to talk to you for days, but you spurned me.”
“What was I supposed to do? You’re an emotional rollercoaster, and I wanted to climb off. I never know whether you’re going to be sweet and whisper something that takes my breath away or say something so fucking mean it breaks my…” She stopped herself.
Gabriel cleared his throat. “I apologize for being mean. There’s no excuse for that.”
She muttered something under her breath as he stared at her.
“I find you—difficult to talk to sometimes. I never know what you’re thinking, and you’re only forthcoming when you’re furious. Like now.”
She sniffed. “I’m not furious.”
“Then I need you to talk to me a little.” His voice was soft again.
He took a risk and began running his fingers through her long, damp curls. “You smell like vanilla,” he whispered.
“It’s your shampoo.”
“So you think I’m bossy?”
“Yes.”
Gabriel sighed. “It’s habit, I suppose. Years of living alone have made me boorish, and I’m out of practice with being considerate. But I’ll try to watch how I speak to you in future. As for Paul and the pet names, it’s insulting that he refers to you as a rabbit. Rabbits end up as entrées, so that needs to stop. But what about kitten? I thought that was rather…sweet.”
“Not when you’re twenty-three and petite and trying to be taken seriously in Academia.”
“What about when you’re twenty-three and beautiful and someone who’s thirty-three and a professional academic says it to you because actually, he thinks you’re seriously sexy?”
Julia pulled away. “Don’t make fun of me, Gabriel. That’s mean.”
“I would never make fun of you.” He gave her a serious look. “Julianne, look at me.”
She kept her eyes on the floor.
He waited somewhat impatiently until she met his gaze again. “I would never make fun of you. And certainly not about something like that.”
She grimaced and looked away.
“But perhaps kitten is a lover’s word.”
Julia reddened as he continued unpacking the groceries. At length, he turned to her. “It meant a great deal to me to fall asleep with you in my arms last night. Thank you.”
She avoided his eyes.
“Look at me, please,” he breathed.
Their eyes met, and Julia was surprised at Gabriel’s expression. He looked worried. “Are you ashamed of coming to my bed?”
She shook her head.
“It reminded me of our first night together.”
“Me too,” she whispered.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you woke up this morning. I was awake at dawn. The sight of you sound asleep reminded me of da Vinci’s La Scapigliata. You looked very serene with your head resting on my shoulder. And very, very beautiful.” He reached across the breakfast bar and tenderly pressed a kiss to her forehead. “So you slept—well?”
“Too well. Why did you light candles in your bedroom?”
He ran his thumb across one of her eyebrows. “You’d already told me what you thought about the darkness. I wanted you to see Holiday’s painting and me. I didn’t know how you’d feel about staying the night. I was worried you’d run.”
“That was, um, considerate of you. Thank you.”
His hand stilled against her cheek as his blue eyes pierced into hers, scorching her. “I am a good lover, Julianne, in all senses of the word.”
When he withdrew, she tried, almost in vain, to catch her breath. “Tell me why you disliked me so much.”
“I didn’t dislike you. I was distracted and short-tempered during the first seminar. You seemed familiar to me. I asked you a question so you’d show me your face. When you ignored me, I lost my temper. I’m not used to being ignored.”
She chewed her lip slightly.
“I realize that isn’t an excuse—I’m just offering an explanation. Simply looking at you elicited very strong feelings. I didn’t know where they were coming from, and I resented them. My resentment quickly spiraled into something vicious. But my rudeness to you was absolutely inexcusable.” Gabriel reached over to free her lip from her teeth. “I was punished for it afterward. Scott telephoned to tell me Grace had died, and that she died whispering my name because I wasn’t there. He told me her deathbed distress was my fault…”
Julia took his hand in hers and without thinking, kissed it. “I’m so sorry.”
Now he brought his lips to hers and pressed them together tightly. They remained still for a few moments until he began shifting his weight from foot to foot.
“I’m hungry,” she murmured, interpreting his signal.
“Shall I feed you?”
Julia nodded, growing a good deal too warm as she recalled how he had fed her the night before.
“Latté or espresso?” He turned to the espresso machine.
“Latté, please.”
She stood for a moment, watching him, before taking a closer look at the irises he’d purchased.
“Could you put those in water, please? There’s a crystal vase on top of the sideboard in the dining room. You can move the hyacinths from last night or leave them where they are.”
She walked over to the buffet, admiring its ebony beauty once again, and fetched the empty vase. “I heard your music last night. It was beautiful.”
“I find classical music soothing. I hope I didn’t disturb you.”
“You didn’t. Why did you choose irises?”
“Fleur-de-lis,” he said simply, placing her latté, which he had poured into a bowl in the Parisian style, in front of her. “And I know your favorite color is purple.”
“They’re my favorite flower,” she remarked shyly, more to herself than to him.
“Mine too, probably because they symbolize Florence. But for you, I think the association has a deeper meaning.” He winked at her impertinently and began preparing breakfast.
Julia huffed slightly. She knew what he was referring to: the iris was a symbol of Mary in the Middle Ages and so it became associated with virginity. In giving her irises, Gabriel was saluting her purity. Which was a strange thing for a would-be lover to do, she had to admit.
Maybe he was serious about being friends, after all.
Taking the flowers and her coffee with her, she went to the dining room. She sat
down and sipped her drink, trying to plan what to say to him.
He joined her shortly, bringing her breakfast and seating himself in the chair next to her at the head of the table.
“Buon appetito.”
Julia quickly concluded that she was eating better at Gabriel’s than she had ever eaten, outside of Italy. In front of her sat a plate of fresh fruit, pain au chocolat, and sliced baguette and cheese, most notably Brie, Mimolette, and Gorgonzola. He’d even decorated their plates with parsley and orange sections.
He held up his champagne flute and waited until she did the same. “These are Bellinis, not Mimosas. I thought you’d prefer it.”
They clinked their glasses together, and Julia took a sip. It tastes like a sparkling peach, she thought. It was so much better than orange juice. Although she wondered why he’d decided to drink again.
“You’re very good at this,” she said.
“Good at what?”
“Seductive food play. I’m sure your overnight guests don’t want to leave.”
Gabriel placed his fork down somewhat roughly on his plate and wiped his lips with his linen napkin. “I am not in the habit of entertaining overnight guests. And certainly never like this.” He glared at her. “I thought it would be obvious that you are different—that I’m treating you differently.” He shook his head. “Perhaps not.”
“You said we’d talk,” she injected, changing the subject.
“Yes.” He gazed at her for a moment. “I have some questions I would like to ask, and I have some things to say.”
“I didn’t agree to an inquisition.”
“This is hardly an inquisition. A few questions, primarily because when I first met you I was not entirely lucid. So forgive me if I wish to have a clearer idea of what actually happened.” Gabriel’s tone was slightly sarcastic.
She speared a strawberry with her fork and bolted it. Fine. Let him ask questions. I have a few to ask as well, and they won’t be pretty.
“Before we begin, I think we should agree to some ground rules. I’d like to speak to you about the past before we discuss the present or the future. Is that all right?”
“Agreed.”
“And I promise that what you say to me will be kept strictly confidential. I hope that you will extend the same courtesy to me.”