Gabriel's Rapture (Gabriel's Inferno #2)(103)

He had two women on his mind. Allison, his former girlfriend, had been visiting when he arrived with Julia two days earlier. They were still friends, so the gesture was well meant, but Paul knew that part of her reason for being there was to size Julia up. He’d told Allison about Julia at Christmas, so she was more than aware of Julia’s presence in his life and his attachment to her. An attachment that he had to admit was unrequited, at least, at that time.

Still, Allison was friendly to Julia, and of course, Julia was her own shy but charming self. It was awkward for Paul as he watched his past and his potential future make small talk while he fumbled for something to say.

When Allison called his cell phone before bed that evening and said that Julia was lovely, he didn’t know how to respond. Of course he had feelings for Allison. They had a long and good history as friends before they began dating. He loved her still. But she’d broken things off with him. He’d moved on and met Julia. Why should he feel guilty?

While Paul was contemplating his very complex (yet simultaneously non-existent) love life, Julia was wrestling with insomnia. When she finally grew weary of tossing and turning she decided to creep from the third floor garret she was occupying to the kitchen to get a glass of milk.

She found Paul sitting alone at the large, harvest table, eating a rather expansive dish of ice cream.

“Hi.” He took in her appearance with a swift but appreciative look.

Julia walked over to him wearing an old Selinsgrove High School T-shirt and a pair of running shorts that had St. Joe’s cheekily sewn onto the seat.

(To Paul’s eyes, she was Helen of Troy in leisurewear.)

“You can’t sleep, either?” She pulled out a chair to sit next to him.

“Dad had a problem with one of the cows. Heath Bar Crunch?” He dished up a large spoonful of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream and held it out to her.

It was her favorite flavor. She gently took the spoon out of his hand.

“Mmmmm,” she groaned, eyes closed. She opened her eyes and handed back the spoon, resisting the urge to lick it clean.

Paul put the spoon in the bowl and stood up. She blinked at him and instinctively moved back in her chair.

“Julia,” he whispered, pulling her to her feet. He pushed her hair behind her shoulders, noting that she didn’t flinch when he did so. Their upper bodies grazed one another. He looked into her eyes with an expression of heated intensity. “I don’t want to say good-bye.”

Her face crinkled up into a smile. “We won’t be saying good-bye. We’ll email and talk on the phone. If you come to Boston, we’ll see each other.”

“I don’t think you understand.”

Julia freed her wrist from Paul’s hand, stepping back. “It’s because of Allison, isn’t it? I don’t want to create trouble for you. Dad and I can make the trip by ourselves.”

She waited patiently for his response, but instead of looking relieved, he looked conflicted.

“This isn’t about Allison.”

“It isn’t?”

“Do you really have to ask me that?” He took another step toward her. “Don’t you know?”

Leery of rejection, he raised his hands slowly and cupped her face. Her fine features were engulfed by his large hands. He held her tenderly, worried about such fragility underneath his grasp, and slowly began to stroke her face with his thumbs.

Julia tore her eyes away from his. “Paul, I—”

“Let me say this,” he interrupted forcefully. “Just once, let me tell you how I feel.” He inhaled and waited until she met his gaze again before he spoke.

“I’m in love with you. I don’t want to be apart from you because I love you. The thought of having to leave you in Cambridge is tearing me up.”

Julia inhaled slowly and began to shake her head.

“Just hear me out. I know that you aren’t in love with me. I know it’s too soon. But do you think that you could be—in time?”

She closed her eyes. Her mind raced ahead to envision a future she hadn’t previously considered—a crossroads of possibilities. She thought of what it would be like to love Paul, to be held and kissed by him, to have him take her to his bed upstairs and make love to her, gently and sweetly. For she knew above all things that Paul would be sweet.

He would want marriage, of course, and children. But he would be proud of her academic career and support her in it.

She found herself unrepulsed by these images, for they were good. She could have a contented life with a decent man who had never done her ill and who, she knew, would probably never so much as hurt her feelings as long as he lived. She could have a good life with him.

He lifted her chin and she opened her eyes.

“There won’t be drama and fights and exes like Professor Pain. I will treat you respectfully, and I will never, ever leave you.

“Choose me,” he whispered, his eyes deep and intense. “Choose me and I will give you a happy life. You’ll never have to cry yourself to sleep again.”

Tears began to stream down her face. She knew that what he was saying was true. But knowing the truth and wanting the truth are two very different things.

“I’m not like him. I’m not an inferno that blazes and dies out. I’m constant. I’ve held back because I knew that you only wanted to be friends. But just once, I’d like to be able to show you what I feel without holding back.”