Gabriel's Rapture (Gabriel's Inferno #2)(119)

“You were talking about our conversation in the hallway after the hearing,” she prompted, eager to change the subject. “I don’t understand how they could have forced you to leave the city.”

“They couldn’t, really. Jeremy simply wanted my word that I’d stop seeing you.”

She folded her arms in front of her. “Then why did you leave?”

“Jeremy discovered I broke my promise before we exited the building. He demanded I break things off with you and swear on my honor that I would stay away from you. I’d already told him I’d do anything if he helped us. I had no choice.”

Julia thought back to her exit interview with the Dean and Professor Martin, just before graduation. “Why did Jeremy think you broke your promise? You wouldn’t talk to me or answer my messages. You sent me an email telling me it was over.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I’d hoped you’d read between the lines and realize it was just for the administration. I’d sent you another email before that from my Gmail account, saying it was only temporary.”

“No, you didn’t.”

He retrieved his phone. Scrolling through a few screens, he settled on something. Then he fixed distressed and haunted eyes on hers.

“After the hearing, I ducked into the men’s room and quickly sent you an email.” He gently took her hand. “Here,” he said, giving her the phone.

Julia quickly glanced at the screen.

Beatrice, I love you. Never doubt that. Trust me, please. G.

She blinked several times, trying to assimilate what she saw typed in black and white with what she’d experienced. “I don’t understand. I didn’t receive this.”

Gabriel gave her a tortured expression. “I know.”

She looked at the screen again and saw that the date and time of the email corresponded with Gabriel’s story. But the addressee of the email was not her. In fact, the actual recipient was someone entirely different.

J.H. Martin.

Julia’s eyes widened as the magnitude of Gabriel’s error suddenly became very, very clear. Instead of sending the email to Julianne H. Mitchell, he’d sent it to Jeremy H. Martin, the Chair of the Department of Italian Studies.

“Oh my God,” she breathed.

He plucked the phone from her hand, muttering curses. “Every time I tried to do something for you, it backfired. I tried to save you, and the hearing officers were suspicious. I tried to give you a clue in conversation, and I made you feel like I’d abandoned you. I tried to email you, and I sent the email to the very person who’d forbidden me to contact you. Honestly, Julia, were it not for the fact that I hoped that someday we would be having this conversation, I would have stepped out into rush hour traffic on Bloor Street and ended it.”

“Don’t say things like that. Don’t even think it.”

Julia’s sudden show of fierceness pleased him, but he found himself back-pedaling quickly. “Losing you was a low point for me. But suicide isn’t an option I’d entertain again.” He gave her a look that seemed to signify much more than he could say at that moment.

“Jeremy was furious. He’d put his career and his department on the line to help me and I’d gone behind his back two minutes later. Now he had proof, in writing, that I was breaking my agreement with the committee. I had no choice but to do whatever he said. If he sent my email to the Dean, the repercussions would have been devastating for both of us.”

At that moment, Gabriel and Julia were interrupted by Rebecca, who joined them on the patio, carrying a pitcher of homemade lemonade garnished with a few frozen raspberries that floated delicately in the cloud of yellow. She served their drinks with an encouraging smile and vanished back into the house.

Gabriel drank greedily, enjoying his reprieve.

“So?” prompted Julia, sipping her lemonade.

“Jeremy told me to stay away from you. I had no choice. He held Damocles’s sword in his hand.”

“He let you go?”

“With a handshake and a promise.” Gabriel grimaced as the memory of that dreadful conversation haunted him. “He showed me mercy. Then more than ever I felt obligated to keep my word. I resolved not to contact you directly until you were already assured your place at Harvard.”

Julia shook her head stubbornly. “But what about me, Gabriel? You made a lot of promises to me. Didn’t you think about keeping them?”

“Of course. Before I left Toronto, I put the textbook in your mailbox. I thought you’d find the passage in Abelard’s letter and read what I wrote on the back of the photograph.”

“But I didn’t realize it was from you. I didn’t even look at it until the night you came to see me. That’s why I was running outside. I didn’t have an internet connection in my apartment and I wanted to email you.”

“What would you have said?”

“I don’t know. You have to understand that I thought you’d had enough of me. That you’d decided I wasn’t worth the trouble.” Tears sprang to Julia’s dark eyes, and she brushed them aside.

“I’m the only one in this relationship who was never worth the trouble. I knew I’d put myself in a situation in which I was careless with your heart. But it wasn’t done to hurt you. It was pride and bad judgment and mistake after mistake.” He looked down at his hands and began to turn the wedding ring around his finger.