Gabriel's Rapture (Gabriel's Inferno #2)(17)

“I won’t be. And stop calling yourself names. It upsets me.”

He conceded her point with a nod of the head. “I think it would help if you had someone to talk to—about everything. Tom, your mother, him, and me.” He gave her a pained look. “I am a difficult man. I know that. I think if you had someone to talk to, it would help.”

She closed her eyes. “I will, but only if you agree to do the same thing.”

He stiffened.

She opened her eyes, speaking quickly. “I know that you don’t want to, and believe me, I understand. But if I’m going to do this, you need to do it too. You were really angry last night, and even though I know you weren’t angry with me, I had to bear the brunt of it.”

“I tried to make up for it afterward.” He gritted his teeth.

She reached up to stroke his agitated jaw. “Of course. But it bothered me that you were so upset over an unsolicited pass from a stranger. And that you thought that sex would relieve your anger and mark me as yours.”

Gabriel’s face registered shock, for he had never interpreted his actions in that way.

“I would never hurt you.” He squeezed her hand.

“I know.”

Gabriel looked upset, and the panic in his eyes didn’t abate when Julia reached up to pet his hair a little.

“We’re quite a pair, aren’t we? With our scars and histories and all our problems. A tragic romance, I suppose.” She smiled and tried to make light of their situation.

“The only tragedy would be losing you,” he said, kissing her lightly.

“You’ll only lose me if you stop loving me.”

“I’m a lucky man then. I’ll be able to keep you forever.”

He kissed her once more before wrapping his arms around her.

“Therapy was required when I went into rehab. I continued meeting with a therapist for a year or so afterward, in addition to going to weekly self-help meetings. It isn’t as if I haven’t gone down that road.”

Julia frowned. “You’re in recovery and you don’t go to meetings. I haven’t said much about it before, but that’s a serious problem. On top of that, you still drink.”

“I was a cocaine addict, not an alcoholic.”

She paused, searching his eyes. It was as if she’d uncovered an old medieval map that outlined the edge of the world with the words here there be dragons.

“We both know that Narcotics Anonymous strongly suggests that addicts don’t drink.” She sighed. “As much as I will try to help, some things are beyond me. As much as sex with you pleases me, I don’t want to become your new drug of choice. I can’t fix things.”

“Is that what you think? That I use sex to fix things?” His question was in earnest, and so Julia resisted the urge to respond with sarcasm.

“I think that you used to use sex to fix things. You said as much to me once, remember? You used sex to combat your loneliness. Or to punish yourself.”

A dark shadow passed over Gabriel’s features. “It isn’t like that with you.”

“But when a person is upset, old patterns of behavior emerge. It’s true of me too, except my coping mechanisms are different.” She kissed him softly but long enough for his panic to recede and for him to kiss her back.

When they pulled apart they stood wrapped around one another until Julia decided to break the silence. “Your lecture last night reminded me of something.” She pulled her phone from her purse and quickly scrolled through some pictures. “Here.”

He took the phone from her hand and gazed at an exquisite painting. In it, St. Francesca Romana cradled an infant child with the assistance of the Virgin Mary, while an angel looked on.

“It’s beautiful.” He returned her phone.

“Gabriel,” she said softly. “Look at the painting.”

He did. And the strangest feeling passed over him.

She began to speak in a low voice. “I’ve always loved this painting. I thought it was because there are similarities between Gentileschi and Caravaggio. But it’s more than that. St. Frances lost some of her children to the plague. This painting is supposed to portray one of her visions of what happened to those children.”

She searched Gabriel’s eyes to see if he grasped her meaning. But he hadn’t.

“When I look at this painting, I think of your baby, Maia. Grace is holding her, surrounded by angels.” Julia pointed to the figures in the painting. “See? The baby is safe and loved. That’s what Paradise is like. You don’t have worry.”

Julia looked up into his face. His pained, beautiful face. Gabriel had tears in his eyes.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I was trying to comfort you.” She wrapped her arms around his neck, gripping him tightly.

Eventually, he wiped at his eyes. He hid his face in her hair, feeling grateful and relieved.

The following afternoon, the rain stopped. So the couple took a taxi up to the Piazzale Michelangelo, which provided a sweeping view of the city. They could have taken a city bus like regular people, but Gabriel was not like regular people.

(Few Dante specialists are.)

“What did Rachel say in her email?” he asked as they admired the tiled roof of the Duomo.

Julia fidgeted with her fingernails. “She and Aaron said hello. They wanted to know if we were happy.”